Tonight found me watching a friend take a belt test in Kung Fu. His parents could not be there and I gladly filled in. I'm nice that way -- sometimes. I'm used to sporting events that involve clapping, screaming, shouting, yelling, whistling, and throwing hands in the air. This was nothing like that. The room was beautifully painted in relaxing colors and calming music washed over us. Everything was very pleasing to the senses, except for that really sweaty guy, but he was working hard. In fact, he down right scared me a few times. I kept thinking, "he does know I'm just two feet from him," as he spun and kicked. When he brought out his bamboo pole I got really worried. Not knowing anything about Kung Fu, or any martial arts for that matter, mess-ups were hard for me to spot. It helped when the person would pause with a "deer caught in headlights" look or said "Chihuahua" under their breath or just had the panic-stricken "I'm gonna throw up" face. My friend did a wonderful job. At least, he told me that he had accomplished what he had set out to do. So, in my book that makes it wonderful. At the end of the testing came the tea ceremony. That would have been very lovely except that they lit incense. I do not like the smell of incense. I never have, but now that I have been to China three times, it brings sad memories of people bowing to huge statues after purchasing packages of incense to light and offer. I'm so thankful that my God does not require that of me. He requires all of me, but I don't have to bring incense along.
