Advent: Let There Be Light.

Posted by janellrardon

“How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.”
― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

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This past weekend in Corolla, NC, fourteen high school girls + a Youth Minister + a Youth Ministry Intern + two seriously good cooks/chaperones and I spent the weekend studying Luke 11:33-36, asking God for more of His Light to shine in our lives. This short passage delivers a powerful punch of truth:

³³You need a light to see. Only an idiot would light a lamp and then put it beneath the floor or under a bucket. No, any intelligent person would put the lamp on a table so everyone who comes in the house can see. ³⁴Listen, your eye, your outlook, the way you see is your lamp. If your way of seeing is functioning well, then your whole life will be enlightened. But if your way of seeing is darkened, then your life will be a dark, dark place. ³⁵So be careful, people, because your light may be malfunctioning. ³⁶If your outlook is good, then your whole life will be bright, with no shadowy corners, as when a radiant lamp brightens your home.

This new version, The Voice, doesn’t mince words.

In light of Advent, which means “coming,” I’d love to share a few beautiful moments from our very special weekend.

“Only an idiot” puts their lamp under a bucket. Ouch. The author of this passage compares and contrasts “an idiot” (most versions refer to this person as a foolish person) and an “intelligent” (referred to as “wise” in most versions) person. As we read between the lines of this first verse, we discovered how easy it is to actually put our light under a bucket. As I lit a small lamp (the one pictured above) and put a bucket (actually a silver mixing bowl) over it, the light went out. The lack of oxygen caused it to be extinguished.

From this little visual, we asked ourselves:

Is Jesus the Light of the World?
Is Jesus the Light of our world?
And then, on the way home, I thought more about these questions, adding one more: If I believe Jesus is the Light of the World and the Light of my world, then how am I doing with this very important Light? Am I hiding it under a basket or letting it shine brightly (Matthew 5:16)?
And even one step further (because you know I love taking things one step further)…how might I shine HIS light this Advent/Christmas season?

Will you join our conversation? I’d love to hear your stories of when you first believed in “The Light of the World.”

And, what simple ways do you shine HIS light, i.e., your light, during this oftentimes frustrating, hustle-bustle, oh-my-light-is-dimming-with-exhaustion time?

Let’s make this season even brighter by shining HIS light . . .

Opening the Door to 54: Basking in the Gloam

Posted by janellrardon

“The only way that we can live, is if we grow. The only way that we can grow is if we change. The only way that we can change is if we learn. The only way we can learn is if we are exposed. And the only way that we can become exposed is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself.”
― C. JoyBell C.

A beautiful Hungarian sunset taken by my sweet Candace Rose.

I have never been happier to say goodbye to one year and hello to another, even if I am one year older.

Yet, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Sometimes the best and worst times of your life can coincide. It is a talent of the soul to discover the joy in pain—-thinking of moments you long for, and knowing you’ll never have them again. The beautiful ghosts of our past haunt us and yet we still can’t decide if the pain they caused us out weighs the tender moments when they touched our soul. This is the irony of love (Shannon Alder).

I didn’t know it at the time, but this photo was taken in that late afternoon, yes, that time when gloaming happens. Can you see the golden glow?

Hindsight has a gentle way of helping us see the good in the bad. I officially allowed myself an entire “birthday week,” last week. I felt as if I deserved that. Heck, I might make all of October my birthday celebration. I’m not gonna lie, last year was quite possibly one of the most challenging of all years. Why? I honestly think it is layered in walking beside my mother in one of her most difficult passages in life (and believe me, this woman has walked through some stuff) and then walking beside my daughter in one of the most incredible passages of her life. Being sandwiched between the two really did a number on my brain (and I didn’t even have brain surgery) and hence, my thoughts and emotions. All in all, it was a year of transitions and as we all know, transitions can and will squeeze the life out of you, if you let them.

So, my birthday mantra this year was simple: Here’s to opening the door to 54! Cheers!

What exactly am I opening the door to, you might ask? Well, several things, I hope. First and foremost, I’m going to bask in the gloam.

Gloam?

My thoughts exactly.

About a month ago, now, Candace and I were on our maternal lineage adventure to Prague/Uhersky Brod. Late one afternoon, we left our hotel in search of something (I can’t remember at the moment.) Just twenty steps or more into our walk, she stops.

“Look! Look at that gloaming!” she said.

“What? Look at the what?” I asked.

“Gloaming. C’mon, Mom, you know what gloaming is, right?” (Don’t quote me. I can’t remember exactly what she said.)

“For the life of me, I have never ever heard of that word.”

“Well, gloaming is that golden light, late in the afternoon, that casts a beautiful glow on everything,” she smiled, raising her camera to catch all the glory.

“How have I missed that word?” I exclaimed. I’m such a logophile. Unbelievable.

“And, I’ve been writing and thinking about ‘the afternoon knows,’ for weeks now. How did I not catch this? It’s incredible!” I said, chastising myself as only I can do.

So, in typical Janell fashion, I oohed and aahed, snapped pictures, basked in this newfound sensation, and spent some time much later in the night, researching and reading all about it.

Defined, “gloaming is the latter part of the day (the period of decreasing daylight from late afternoon until nightfall), often referred to as poetic twilight or dusk.”

So that’s why this particular moment on the St. Charles Bridge in Prague took my breath away….it was the gloaming….the golden glow resting on Prague Castle. I guess Candace wasn’t near me when I snapped this shot and had a little conversation with myself about its’ grandeur…or she would have taught me that vocabulary word right then and there.

Once again, Nature spoke. Not only does gloaming happen in the transition between afternoon and night—gloaming happens in the difficult transitions of life, too. Sometimes we need to stop in the middle of our difficult circumstances and look up. Notice the golden glow. Let it sweep us away and leave us breathless. Teach us something new. Help us discover the unknown, about life and about ourselves.

There it is again! Little did I know at the time…but I know now. I wait all day for signs of gloaming. It makes me smile!

And yet again. These pictures taken several years ago. Love that gloamin’ feelin’!

Join me, will you? Let’s open the door to basking in the gloam. Maybe you’ve experienced the golden glow and would like to share that with us. Please, we’d really like to hear all about it. Share your pictures, too. Maybe you’re like me and didn’t even know there was a word, gloaming, for such magic. And, I’m going to say a special prayer that the golden glow of gloaming breaks through the dreary days of rain in your life.

P.S. We’ve had at least 7 days of straight rain…dreary, blustery, and downright depressing (okay, I know there is beauty in all weather), but while I was writing this…yes, the sun broke through! I’m on the lookout for some gloaming later today!

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!

May I offer a prayer before I go?

God in Heaven,

You see absolutely everything.

It astounds me that you care so deeply for your children.

Yes, there are times when you feel so far away.

Yes, there are times when you feel so close.

Right now I pray that you send a great big hug to my dear friends,

so they will know and feel and experience your presence, just like I did

that day in April. Your timing is perfect.

Help each one of us trust YOU, because YOU are trustworthy.

Help us open our hearts, our minds, our eyes and our ears, so that we don’t miss

what you have for us. In Jesus’s name. Amen.

The Afternoon Knows: You are Stronger than you Know.

Posted by janellrardon

“Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

The afternoon knows one very important thing: You are stronger than you know.

If anyone had told me what the last eleven months had in store, I wouldn’t have believed them.

You know. You’ve been there, too. Life takes that “blind corner,” and well, the rest is history.

It is during these very tough times that we must have a deep-rooted faith. Why? Because you and I have to have something to stand on when it feels like the entire world around us is caving in.

Monday, June 4, 2013 was one of those exact moments for me.

Mom had been moved from Mary Immaculate Hospital (where her hip replacement took place) to Maryview Acute Rehabilitation Unit (where she would rehab her new hip). Post hip replacement her vitals plummeted (while I was in Kansas at my son’s college graduation) and after many tests and several blood transfusions, she was diagnosed with C-Diff. Little did I know, then, what would come forth as a result of this serious bacterial infection. I tried so hard to be present and celebrate my son’s great achievement, but the emotional tug-of-war ensued.

It seemed as though everything was under control.

The Sunday before. Everything seemed just great!

But early Monday morning, as I was recovering from the flight home and trying to prepare for the day, Mom called…frantic.

“Something is very wrong,” I heard from the other end of the phone.

“Okay, I’m on my way,” I assured her.

She was losing blood again. Lots. I finished dressing and quickly made my way to the hospital. When I arrived, Dr. M assured me everything was stable and that I didn’t need to call anyone.

Within the hour, everything changed. Dr. M approached me, “Janell, I would go ahead and call your family. I’ve called for Rapid Response Team, so don’t panic. It’s protocol. I need to move her to ICU..her condition is worsening fast.”

The dear psychologist, Dr. G., was right outside the door. Because of my mom’s C-Diff, everyone who entered the room could be at risk and therefore had to “suit up.” He kept eye contact with me the entire time.

“I’m here,” he said. “If you need me. Let me know what I can do.”

Trying not to panic, I took a deep breath. Then, I made those calls.

What happened next was a big yellow and blue blur, as everyone (I want to say 15-20 doctors/nurses) on the RRT had to put on those yellow coverings and blue latex gloves.

This dear nurse kept assuring me, “I’ve got this little spring that goes off inside when…you know…it’s only going off a little bit right now…” She kept assuring me all throughout the ordeal. A few days later, she came up to ICU. She said, “I haven’t been wrong yet.” All I could do was give her a big hug.

As they swarmed around my momma, she grew more and more anxious. I stood at the foot of the bed in the midst of it all. My eyes didn’t leave her eyes.

“What’s happening to me?” she cried out to me.

“I’m not sure, but I’m here. Everyone is on their way.”

She grew even more anxious. At that moment, I called out to the RRT team and asked them to please stop and explain what was happening to my mom.

“She doesn’t know what is happening. Please, please stop and let her know.”

Graciously, they did.

Still, I stood at the foot of the bed.

In that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. My knees weakened, my heart raced.

Flashing before my eyes were the last nine months. All I could think was, “Lord, not this way. Please don’t let her die this way. We’ve worked so hard to get her to this place. I don’t want this to be the end. Please, God, hear me.”

Soon my children arrived. Then, my sister.

I found myself facing my mother and then facing my children. Suddenly, I wasn’t only losing a mom, but my children were losing a grandmother.

At that moment, a strength washed over me that I didn’t know I had. Pushing aside my own fears, I summoned the courage to be there for my three children. They needed me. My mom needed me. My sister needed me. Doctors and nurses needed me. My brother needed me (via phone, as he lives in Japan).