The Mirror

By Mr. Mike, Championship Martial Arts – Table Rock Lake

A Story About Gratitude, Perspective, and Being Thankful for the Chance to Be Me

I was cleaning the studio the other day — just doing the usual end-of-day reset. Straightening shields, lining up paddles, turning off speakers, picking up the handful of shoes and jackets that always seem to wander away from their owners. When I got to the big mirrors across the front wall, I grabbed my glass cleaner and started wiping away the little dragon handprints smudged across the lower panels. And if you’ve ever had a 4- to 7-year-old in your life, you already know the prints I’m talking about — tiny fingerprints from students who somehow always manage to touch the mirror right after I tell them not to.

I sprayed the glass, wiped once, wiped twice… and then something unexpected happened.

I froze.

Through those half-cleaned smudges, I caught a glimpse of myself. Not the usual quick glance I give when I’m checking my uniform, or making sure my belt hasn’t slipped sideways. No — this was different. Something about that reflection made me stop. Really stop.

In that quiet moment, with the smell of glass cleaner hanging in the air and the last echoes of class fading out behind me, a thought rose up:

I’ve looked in this mirror a thousand times…
but today, I actually saw me.

As I stood there, still holding the cleaning rag, it hit me how often I catch myself noticing what others have.

I’ll drive past a beautiful house and think,
“Wow… that sure must be nice.”

I’ll watch someone throw a smooth, head-level round kick and think,
“Man… must be great to have that kind of skill.”

I’ll see someone who looks put together — in life, finances, fitness, whatever — and quietly think,
“They’ve really got it figured out.”

And again, these aren’t jealous thoughts. They’re not negative.
They’re just moments of admiration — noticing good things in other people’s worlds.

But as I stood there staring at my own reflection, I realized I don’t often give myself that same kind of grace.
I’m quick to appreciate others… but slow to appreciate my own journey.
Quick to acknowledge someone else’s blessings… but slow to acknowledge the blessings right in front of me.

Then my eyes drifted to the Gratitude Jar — the one we filled throughout November. Dozens of notes from students and families: thankful for parents, pets, teachers, siblings, health, little joys, big wins. We filled that jar with so much outward gratitude that it overflowed.

But standing there in front of the mirror, I felt something I hadn’t expected:
All month long, we focused on what we were grateful for around us… but how often do we pause and say we’re grateful for who we are?

Grateful for the person who keeps showing up.
Grateful for the strength built from struggle.
Grateful for the heart that keeps giving.
Grateful for the journey that has shaped us — even the hard parts.

As I looked at that reflection — sweat drying from class, uniform a little wrinkled, tired eyes but a steady posture — I didn’t see flaws.

I saw a man who’s lived a real life.
A man who’s learned, stumbled, gotten back up, served, worked, grown.
A man who’s still trying, still improving, still following the path God laid out long before he realized it.

And in that moment, I felt something I don’t always allow myself to feel:

Gratitude… for me.

Because the truth is, I wouldn’t trade places with anyone else —
not the person with the beautiful house,
not the person with the perfect kick,
not the person whose life looks smoother from the outside.

At the end of the day, the thing I’m most grateful for…
is the opportunity to be me.

My story.
My blessings.
My purpose.
My reflection.
My calling.

And when I forget that, I come back to Jeremiah 29:11:

“For I know the plans I have for you” declares the Lord “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

God already knows the road ahead.
He knows the purpose behind every chapter.
He knows the man He’s shaping me into — even on the days I don’t see it clearly.

And for all of that, I am grateful.

Truly, deeply grateful…
for the opportunity to be me.

But as I took one last look at those tiny fingerprints smudged across the glass, I couldn’t help but smile.
Those little handprints — the ones I was grumbling about cleaning — they grounded me.
They reminded me why I do this, who I do it for, and how blessed I am to stand in this school every day.

Funny how a few messy little handprints can clean up your perspective.

And today, I’m grateful for them too.