The Afternoon Knows: The Importance of Being Still

I could never in a million years imagined what lay ahead of me
on this providential journey.

And to experience it alongside my first born daughter,
who teaches me how to live life with eyes wide open.

Solitude is the soil in which genius is planted, creativity grows, and legends bloom; faith in oneself is the rain that cultivates a hero to endure the storm,
and bare the genesis of a new world, a new forest.

-Mike Norton

“Still water or sparkling?” asked the waitress. Since being in Europe, I’ve been asked this question a million times. I take for granted that water is brought to the table routinely at restaurants back home.

It wasn’t until I sat alone in the park behind the Dominican Monastery in Uhersky Brod, CZ, that I stilled myself to reflect on all that has happened while traveling back in time, metaphorically speaking, to the home country of my maternal lineage.

The very history of this monastery speaks to the rigors of walking a life of faith. Fires. Ruins. Rebuilding. More on this to come!

Monastery Garden

While Candace Rose was off sketching the beautiful Uhersky Brod Observatory we visited on Saturday evening (stay tuned to http://www.candaceroserardon.com for that lovely sketch), I wandered. Today’s thought came while visiting this historic monastery. Please join me.

The words of the waitress wafted back.

“Still or Sparkling?”

I always answered the same.

“Still, please.”

I need still water. The still water promised in Psalm 23.

On a daily basis I need a deep well from which to draw Rivers of Living Water. It seems easier when I’m away from home. From responsibilities. From the cares of life. It isn’t as though I don’t have cares here, quite the contrary.

Four days into this journey, at around midnight or so, Candace says, “Well…….” with a sullen tone lingering in the air, “I just got a Facebook message from Grant.”

The rest of her sentence is a blur. All I heard was, “Grandma’s in the ER, again, having possibly suffered a stroke. She took a nap around 4 pm and woke up disoriented, unable to process or speak intelligible words, and she is very, very confused. One minute she knows who we are, the next minute she thinks it is 1930. Sometimes it sounds like she’s speaking German.”

Immediately I called my son from our Skype account….phone to phone.

” Hey Mom,” he said. “First, I want you to enjoy your trip. I don’t think you need to come home.”

“Okay, tell me what’s happening,” I hesitantly asked.

The rest of our conversation(s) were filled with a minutia of details, as I had been primary caregiver for the past year. I asked to speak to my mom, hoping to hear her voice one more time, just in case.

“Hello,” she said, with a crackle in her weak voice.

“Hi Mom, it’s Janell,” I said.

“Where are you?” she responded. “I’m back in the hospital….I don’t want to be here.”

“I know, but it’s all going to be okay. I want you to know we are all here and we are looking out for you. It’s going to be okay.”

My sister got on the phone next. She later told me the minute my mom got off the phone with me, she didn’t remember who I was.

After helping them know where the Living Will and all other necessary paper work was, we ended our conversation.

At this time it was about 2am where I was, so I tried desperately to sleep, knowing the next day entailed moving from Prague to Uhersky Brod.

Immediately, Candace and I prayed. Tears fell softly as I wasn’t sure what the next morning would hold.

Would she make it through the night? Was it a stroke?

My heart raced as I felt my momma’s anxiety and fear. I knew she was so scared. Confused.

Sandwiched, yet again, between desiring to hold my weak momma’s hand and proceed onward with my own daughter on the journey towards understanding our lineage. Torn between the past and the present. I sincerely believe this was a pivotal moment for me. For my family.

God crafts the details. Carefully. Intentionally.

My sister retired from her teaching career of 33 years in June. She is now available to share in the caregiving. Her strength at this time was now something I could lean on. Something I could depend on. I can now live a little more life. This will require me letting go and letting her. Not an easy task, I must honestly confess. Grant is home from college and from his soccer career. He was present and stepped up to the plate. In my absence, he calmed my momma and held her hand. And, to be honest, I think she may have liked that even more (smile).

As I closed my eyes, I remembered Psalm 23 and whispered, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul.”

I need still water. Water that restores my soul. Keeps me calm during all the chaotic, confusing times in life. Times when I am torn in two.

The still water promised in Psalm 23.

My prayer for you today is found in this restorative video I found. May each word sung and spoken be a cup of still water for your soul.

The Afternoon Knows: We must savor every second we’re given.

Posted by janellrardon

Standing in front of The John Lennon Wall in Old Town Prague, or Praha 1, meditating on all the words written on this vast cement canvas, four words stood out.

“No Day But Today.”

After the past year and almost losing my own mother on several occasions, I’ve come to realize at the end of our lives, what really matters? Our accolades, our status, our accomplishments, our __________? They are important, but at the end of the day, I want to be able to say that I’ve savored all 86,400 seconds of this day. Today’s thought, “No Day But Today.” What second are you savoring? Please share with us.

The Afternoon Knows: Everybody needs rest.

Posted by janellrardon

Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge. -Eckhart Tolle

I realized this morning that the timeline of these “The Afternoon Knows” blogs is definitely not sequential, but are definitely ordered in my mind according to specifics.

Specific memories of specific events and the specific time they happened.

April 15, 2013 at 2:03 p.m.

The day unfolded quite normally. Remember, “The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”

That’s my momma. One of the first women marines to train at Parris Island, 1949. I’m guessing that is where I get my ability to push through hard times.

As my little black notebook (which is MY LIFE) shows, the day was filled to the brim: take mom to the doctor, call administrator of local assisted living residence, attend an online training for the online college course I teach, visit the Assisted Living Residence with momma (for the first time), and draft a letter to the Veteran Administration Office to begin the process of getting my mom a pension called, “VA AIDS & ASSISTANCE.” Through a series of very fortunate events, this pension was brought to my brother’s attention and then to my attention, by two Assisted Living Administrators. Because my momma is a retired veteran (she was one of the first women marines, Parris Island 1949), and was married to a Marine, both who served during a war (The Korean War), she was qualified to receive this pension, which would give her the necessary funds to actually transition to an assisted living facility. At the time, she was in dire pain because the screw from her initial hip repair (December 2012), had bore a hole through the wing of her hip. She couldn’t take one step without excruciating pain. We weren’t quite sure what to do (which is a whole other story), but I knew one thing: we needed a plan because it was becoming obvious that she was going to need daily care.

So at 2:00 pm on an ordinary Monday afternoon in April (which actually was the day of the Boston bombings, so sadly, not so ordinary), Momma and I sat on a lovely bench in the foyer of Emily Green Shores, waiting to meet with the Administrator. That moment, for me, was quite possibly one of the most difficult moments of my life. Never in a million years did I ever imagine being in such a place. My grandmother, Josephine, a strong Bohemian woman whose family immigrated from Czechoslovakia (now, the Czech Republic) in 1902, lived to be a hearty 95 years old. I never fathomed that my momma would experience anything different.

I felt faint, actually, and very anxious. How can this be happening? Torn between my own emotional state and that of my momma’s, I sat. We sat.

Suddenly, at 2:03pm, my phone rang.

“Washington” and a strange number showed up.

I didn’t recognize the number and was going to let it go to voice mail, but then thought it might be one of my momma’s doctors, so I answered it.

“Hello, is this the mother of Candace Rose Rardon?” a man’s gruff voice spoke.

Immediately, my heart became even more anxious. Knowing Candace was off on a Japanese pilgrimage some thousands of miles away, my thoughts raced. No need to record them, I bet you know exactly what I thought.

“Yes,” I hesitantly spoke. “It is.”

“Well, this is so and so from the New York Travel Fest and Candace Rose has won our story contest and a trip to Prague for two!” he said.

“What!!?” I screamed, as my loud voice alarmed the elderly men and women sitting in the foyer with my momma and me. Oops!

“Yes, her story has been selected. I’ve left her several emails and need her to reply by tomorrow night at midnight or we will be forced to give the prize to the runner-up.”

“Oh, no..that’s not happening,” I said. “I’ll get a message to her somehow.”

The next few hours were a blur. Momma and I had our interview with the Administrator. I tried to stay focused on this monumental decision, but all I could think about was Candace answering that email.

You see, the prize was two roundtrip tickets to Prague…my maternal lineage…, two nights in a 5-star right (located in the heart of Prague City Center), a special tour, and more.

All I could think about was getting on a plane, watching endless movies, staying in a 5-star, and doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but rest, eat, sleep, and BE WITH MY DAUGHTER.

That moment personified where life has taken me…sandwiched between my momma and my family.

The rest of the day was one big PRAYER to Jesus (and any other saint in my cloud of witnesses, Hebrews 12:1) that Candace Rose would get to a WiFi spot where she could check her email. I tweeted. I facebooked. I emailed. I did it all again.

I even became so desperate that I tried to call hostels all along the temple circuit, asking Japanese caretakers if they had “tall, blonde American” staying at their hostel.

One particular caretaker responded with, “No, no American, only 4 Italian,” in very, very broken English.

At approximately 10:30 pm, I surrendered. Breathing one final prayer, I left it in God’s hands.

“Lord, please make Candace check her email. Amen.”

At 3 am, I woke up. I rushed to my computer to see if Candace had responded.

“MOM, WE’RE GOING TO PRAGUE!”

Once again, I screamed. Only this time, not out loud. I screamed and twirled and whirled right there in my living room.

You see, the afternoon knows we all need rest. We all need something to look forward to. We all need a little light when the darkness falls.

It doesn’t always come when we expect it. Never in a million years would I have anticipated heading to Prague, CZ. It is something my daughter and I have talked about for years. She has traced her lineage and even created a beautiful scrapbook for my momma with her findings. It is now a family treasure.

After a very long arduous journey this past year, where I’ve come to know my momma in a whole new way, my daughter and I are now heading to trace our lineage together. I’m not sure what the afternoons in the Czech Republic, the Land of Stories, has in store, but I am heading out in a few hours to see. If you’d like to follow my journey…our journey…I’d love to have you along. I’ll definitely be posting once or twice (unless I get so rested, I decide to just sip hot black CZ tea and do nothing), and will be tweeting, facebooking, and instagramming, for sure!