"After. After."

In the late 1980's, I must have watched The Karate Kid hundreds of times. Back then, my ceaseless viewing could partly be blamed on the fact I was a preteen, eager to learn fashion and ways to "woo" boys from "Ali- with an i" and one delighted with the chance to ogle Ralph Machicco... again. But, it could also be blamed on how mystified with Mr. Miyagi I was.

Mr. Miyagi came into my life at a crucial point, adolescence. In adolescence, one should be exposed to life's greatest lessons hardly recognizing that exposure. It is almost as if those life lessons lay dormant until needed.

After my husband was arrested, I greatly needed Mr. Miyagi's lessons.
I'm not exactly sure how long I sat at the top of my stairs after the police officer closed our door. That time was spent in utter disbelief. At some point, I remembered one of Mr. Miyagi's lessons.

"Breathe in, breathe out. And no scare fish."

With several deep cleansing breaths, I rose and went to tell our family and friends what had just happened. I had to chose my words to convey the events that had just played out very carefully because this was certainly a very scary situation.

No one I'd ever known had been arrested, taken from their home... led away with absolutely nothing said, other than, "You need to come with us." When I finally managed to start making phone calls, each voice on the other end of the line quaked and asked for everything to be repeated, twice.

My husband was an "All-American" type of guy. He'd never met a person who did not like him. He was handsome and charismatic and athletic. He had a smile that lit up a room. He was a husband, father, son, brother, teacher, coach, friend, and fraternity brother. To all those that knew him, he was the guy they liked to be around, the one that made them laugh, and the one who'd never do anything wrong.

His arrest stunned every single person told. Everyone was frightened, no matter what words I used, but my calmness and sensibility, thanks in part to much "breathe in, breathe out", evoked the same in others. I continued to make phone calls and proceeded to read everything I could on the Internet about being arrested.

By dark, my sister was with me. Soon, my parents would arrive with my children. They had no idea they were coming home to a home without Daddy. I discussed what to tell my four- year-old daughter and my very wise sister stated, "Well, you have two choices. You can lie or you can tell her the truth." Knowing lying had brought this entire mess upon us, I opted for the truth.  Finding the right words to explain a father's arrest to a four-year-old is nearly impossible. Smiling ever-so-slightly, I remembered Mr. Miyagi.

When, Daniel asked him, "Hey, where did all these cars come from?" He replied, "Detroit."

Keep it simple. 

She wasn't in the door long before she started asking where Daddy was. Sitting on the floor with her, I explained that Daddy had done something very bad, that adults aren't supposed to do. I explained he was going to have to live with the police for awhile. I kept it as simple as I could. 

As far as tears and heartache, it didn't matter. As far as how these carefully chosen, simple words would shape our future, it did matter.

Numerous people have asked me, "How did you do that? How did you tell everyone, how did you get the words out?"

I can only answer as Mr. Miyagi did when he karate chopped beer bottles off his truck, "Don't know, first time." Sometimes, what you need to do, you just do.

Hours went by, and I still knew very little about what he was to be charged with. I knew not the enormity of his crime. Late at night, his phone call finally came and out of this wonderful man's mouth, came the severity of what he'd done. I listened to him, but heard The Karate Kid.  At that point, my husband became two people to me. I heard Sense Kreese's words:

"Mercy is for the weak... An enemy deserves no mercy."

I wanted to slam the phone down. I wanted to scream and wail and punch walls. I wanted to lock my doors and never let him back in the house. I wanted him to sit in a cell and rot. I wanted to hate him.

But, I couldn't and I didn't. And, I won't.

It is also said in The Karate Kid, "You trust the quality of what you know, not the quantity." I knew my husband as a good man. I knew all his most wonderful qualities and they far outweighed this one terrible thing he'd done. And, I didn't really want an enemy. Enemies bring too much negativity into life. There was too much negativity in our lives. I could not allow it.

Late that night, not long after I'd finally fallen asleep, I awoke in a panic. I roused my sleeping parents and pleaded with my Dad to bring me to the police station. Begrudgingly, he did. I brought my husband clean clothes and a picture of our children.

Are you confused?

Mr. Miyagi said this:

"Better learn balance. Balance is key. Balance good, karate good. Everything good. Balance bad, better pack up, go home."

For the rest of my life, I was going to need to learn to balance the two people my husband had become. I was going to have to balance my life around this terrible thing that had happened. What I envisioned as we drove to the police station was the man I'd known, alone and terrified. In my mind, he still had duties and obligations to fulfill to myself and, most importantly, to his children. The clothes and picture, I wanted them to give him strength in order to do that.

That trip to the police station at one o'clock in the morning was the only time I put myself in the same place as his crime.

After that, we had a long, long road ahead of us. Trust me, there have been numerous times between now and then I have wanted nothing more than to "Sweep the leg". It is a gruelling journey, but one that has sincerely taught me Mr. Miyagi's most important lesson of all:

"First learn stand. Then learn fly. Nature rule, Daniel-san, not mine."

This post is dedicated to my mother. She is my Mr. Miyagi.