Crying Hearts

Tonight was my son’s belt testing ceremony. I was supposed to be out there with him doing my own test, but I couldn’t because of my knee. All day long, I have been emotional and upset at the prospect of not being able to test, especially after I’d worked so hard to be ready. But I wanted to keep the focus on my son tonight, not on me. I was doing pretty well to hold it together, even despite my son telling me that he wished I could be out there testing with him. But when the higher belts started sparring, I lost it.

I tried to fight back the tears welling up in my eyes, but they came spilling out anyway. Tears for not being able to test. Tears for not being able to spar. Tears for being hurt. Tears at having to watch my son go on without me, while I was left behind on the side of the road. My spousal unit missed my tears but saw the glum look on my face, and she said, “It’s okay.” All I could say was, “No, it’s not. It’s really not.” I still don’t think she quite understands what’s going on with me or how hard this was for me tonight. I’m incredibly proud of my son, and I would gladly support him even if it means my heart will break. But it was still hard. Tomorrow, I get to watch him get his next belt. It means that he’ll finally get to start sparring. Except it also means that I won’t be able to spar with him, which we’d both been looking forward to. Every time I turn around, it just makes me so angry again.

The Two Thousand Mile Love

Three male African wild dog brothers walked 2564 miles across Zambia for eight months just to find mates. They left Kafue National Park in mid-2025 and finished their trek in early-2026. The distance traveled was the longest distance ever recorded for an African land mammal. The brothers had to cross busy roads, rivers, and human-dominated areas while avoiding poachers and traps. And they endured all of this for love!

It gives new meaning to the song I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers:

“But I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more. Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door.”

Or A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton:

“'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles, if I could just see you tonight.”

Some people sing about love, but these three lived it!

Tearing Hearts

Two days ago, I returned to my martial arts class after an almost two-week absence. I’d been dealing with multiple viruses that had kept me physically unable to perform the exercises. Needless to say, I was very excited to finally be back at it. I had missed it. But that joy was short-lived. Less than thirty minutes in, during my first sparring match, I was trying to execute a kick when my opponent shifted to my left. I twisted to follow his movement, still perched on my right leg, when all of a sudden I felt a pop in my right knee. It felt like the bones slid out and back into the socket. The pain was excruciating. I crumpled to the floor in agony.

I was finally able to see my orthopedic doctor today, and the news wasn’t encouraging. I’m still pending an MRI, but he believes that I tore my ACL. If so, I’ll require surgery, and I’ll be out of martial arts for 7-9 months. I think that news more than anything was the hardest to hear. I understand the injury, and I’m willing to put in the work to get through it. But to have the thing taken away that I love so much is devastating. I’m sad beyond consoling. I cried all the way back from the doctor’s office.

And this always happens to me. I find something that I enjoy, and I get injured. And then I find it hard to get back into it again later. The same thing happened with yoga. But it’s even more so with martial arts. I desperately needed to find something that I could do just for me…something to bring me joy. And I have never taken to something so much or been so good at it. And now, to have it ripped away from me, it leaves me wondering why? And it’s even worse, because it was something that I shared with my son. And now, I don’t have that either. And what’s left in its place? Nine months of pain, difficulty, and stress. Not a fair trade-off.

But the saddest part is that people don’t seem to understand how traumatic this is for me. They’re focused on the recovery from the injury, or they’re making jokes about my son getting ahead of me with his belt colors. But their remarks are off the mark and insensitive. This was one of the few things that I looked forward to every week, and now my life will go back to having no joy. The thing that I loved doing is gone for a very long period of time. And I wonder…have they ever had something that they loved doing that much taken away from them? Have they felt my loss and the emptiness left behind?

Circle...Triangle...Line

My men’s group only has six guys in it. And since my group is rogue and unrecognized by the church, we don’t get an infusion of men from there. Honestly, the only way we grow is to invite guys ourselves. The smallness and intimacy of the group is one of its most appealing features. We’ve been together so long that we know each other well. We trust each other to be able to share deep stuff and not have it shared outside the group. We can depend on each other for support, prayer, and wisdom.

But the size does become a problem if several of us have to miss group at the same time, like tonight. Four of us were out for various reasons, so we just cancelled. The de facto leader made a quip in our group chat that when our circle becomes a line, it’s time to call it. Geometry humor is always appreciated by me!