The knob to the bathroom door rattled, signaling a sense of urgency.

"I'll be right out!" I hollered.

Silence hung in the air.

I carefully rinsed my hands and toweled them dry.

A slight breeze brushed my hair, causing the door to creep open and leaving it faintly ajar.

I shuddered. Uneasiness shrouded me like a finely-woven makaloa mat.

"Who is it?" I asked tentatively.

Silence greeted me.

My cardiovascular system leaped into action. The hairs on my neck bristled.

I cut the bathroom lights. My pupils dilated, becoming accustomed to the dark.

My respiratory system went into overdrive. Breathing was labored.

I slammed my back flush against the door.

I practiced my breathing techniques — in through the nose, out through the mouth.

The palms of my hands were clammy as I balled them into meaty fists.

I pivoted, facing the door.

In one swift move, I yanked it open, and poised myself in a kick-boxing stance.

No one was in sight.

Cautiously, I left the refuge of the bathroom and crept into the hallway, fists raised, senses on high alert.

In ancient Hawaiian times, major conflicts were resolved through battle.

But there were still places of refuge called pu'uhonua. Losing warriors who managed to reach a pu'uhonua were safe from attack.

Leaving the safety of my pu'uhonua left me vulnerable. But I knew that I needed to face my attacker.

In a split second, the intruder jumped in front of me.

His 5-foot-11, 240-pound muscular frame overpowered me.

I tried a quick jab to his chest followed by a snap kick with my right leg.

He grabbed it, leaving me off balance to wobble on my left.

"OK, OK, I give up," I conceded. "You win."

My 15-year-old laughed. "Wow, Mom, you got your kick boxing moves down, huh? Did you know I saw your shadow on the wall as you tried to sneak out of the bathroom?"

"Uh, that was my intention," I lied. "In fact, I am training you to meet the challenges in life."

There is an 'olelo no'eau that defines this:

I ka hale no pau ke a'o ana. Translated, it means: Do all your teachings at home.

Then they are on their own.

Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Hono-lulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055.