Bio First Real Snow

Unsplash: Martina De Marchena@letstakeapicture

During the night the wind howled. We woke up to a thin covering of snow on the ground this morning. It is not only cold outside, it looks and feels cold even inside. Part of that is knowing what cold feels like. After all, I was born in Minnesota and lived my first few years in Canada, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. These places had very long winters with deep snow and short summers with lots of irritating mosquitoes.

My sister’s birthday is in September. She was always disappointed if the first snow didn’t hit before her birthday. Karin loves snow. She wasn’t happy when we moved to eastern Wyoming where there wasn’t much snow. To her horror, we didn’t even always have snow for Christmas. When we did have a good amount of snow, it didn’t stay. Warm chinook winds swept down and melted the snow away. Which was OK by me.

It’s not that I minded the snow. I liked having some around in the Winter. I didn’t like having to bundle up in heavy coat, mittens, hat, and scarf, not to mention boots. I could scarcely move all bundled up. I did enjoy sledding down steep hills, creating snowpersons, and lying down to make snow angels.

I like the layer of snow we have today. It will be gone soon. But when real deep snow comes, I’ll leave playing in it, even walking in it, up to the younger set. I’m not the fan of snow my sister is, but I can enjoy it from behind my large front window. Then I am thankful I can stay unbundled, inside—and warm.

© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

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Blog Bio Energy, age and learning what's important

As a child, I had endless energy. I wooshed through my days. In Siren, Wisconsin, I walked from one end of our small town to the other, though I was only in first and second grades. I visited friends, played with pets, and told imaginative stories.

At home, I had chores, such as making my bed and helping to keep things clean. Dad patiently showed us, kids, the proper way to make a bed with the covers smooth, and corners just so. That meant I needed to learn to slow down and not just tug my covers up and forget them.

In Wyoming, I was allowed to wander the hills behind and around our home, in daylight hours only. I carried a pocket knife and my father taught me how to stay clear of rattlesnakes and what to do if I could not.

In Kansas, as a young teen, I contracted Rheumatoid Arthritis. Pain and exhaustion became my companions for years. But thanks to prayer and effort, I entered a more healing phase and regained some of that energy. In college, even from a wheelchair, I actively entered into going places and doing things with friends. After college, extensive surgery got me back on my feet. I married my husband I started my married life.

While I continued to have surgery and I often needed to rest in the afternoon, I was involved in home, church, and community activities. This only increased when our children arrived. Sometimes I was incredibly tired, but I still kept up a schedule of home, writing, and everything else. When my books sold to publishers and were available everywhere, organizations began asking me to speak, adding another layer of activities. I got very good at making and keeping schedules. Sometimes I got stressed out, but I also enjoyed my life.

After the kids left home for college and to start their own families, I settled down to writing and speaking and church activities. My career was going well. I landed a good contract with Harlequin’s Love Inspired brand that’s sold at most book and department stores. Yet, I needed more effort to get everything done on my list each day. I realized I needed to pare down that list. Still, my days were full.

The big change came with a bad fall that put me in the hospital for 2 ½ months, with a trach and feeding tube. While I was eventually able to lose the trach and feeding tube, it took me over a year to fully recover. Now things were different. My aggressive edge was gone. My energy was quickly depleted each day.

Each year, I find it more difficult to complete a long list of things. In fact, it seems to take more and more time to get less and less done. My list is often things that I need to do as well as things I don’t want to forget.

I realized my writing would pass away as would most everything else I did. What mattered was my relationships with Keith, our kids, grandkids, other family and friends. Now, a phone call from family or friends takes precedence over my daily list. I am thankful we are relatively healthy. I am thankful I am still writing and selling. I also still find the energy for those things that matter most. my faith, my family, and the freedom to honor both. I am blessed.

(c) 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

Kearney Hub Column 5/30/2022

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Blog Bio Rain, Rain, and More Rain

Photo by Nick Nice on Unsplash

I was a preschooler when we lived in Clitherall, Minnesota. (My father was a minister.) After it rained, I’d plop down and play in the large puddles lining the dirt roads by our house. I had a great time splashing until, one day, my older sister Karin spoiled it all by pointing out I shared those puddles with worms that rose to the surface. Yuck! So ended my puddle splashing.

I remember dancing on the lawn during a gentle rain shower in Siren Wisconsin. I preferred being outside, even in the rain. Other times, I splashed through puddles secure in my rain boots.

Wyoming was different. It didn’t rain much. Only one creek ran most of the year. The others only filled and swirled with water during a long, hard rainfall or during Spring thaw. They were mostly dry creek beds suitable for exploring. It wasn’t fun being out in the rain that turned the ground into muck, ripping shoes off feet as it sucked and tried to drag the wearer down. The ground became almost, but not quite, quicksand consistency. A person needs to take care. Once while down by the rushing Lance Creek, I got stuck and lost a boot before my friend help me to safety.

Every place we lived had differences. Kearney Nebraska has long dry spells. It also may have days and days of almost freezing rain even in the last of May. After several hot days, we turned off the heat only to turn it on again when the temperatures inside were more like January than May.

I like rain—for a day. Too many days of gloom and rain drag down my mood. I need sunshine and light. If the ceiling light doesn’t give off enough, I turn on lanterns and flashlights. After days of rain, I remind myself the farmers need rain. I pray the rain will soak into the ground and not runoff. I pray for good crops. And, I hope the rain will stop for a while and come again another day.

© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

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Blog Ugh! DST

I really do not look forward to Daylight savings Time (DST). It is humans seeking to change the natural order of time to suit the perceived wants of some. Whatever the truth, I remember as a kid learning about this change in time in the spring.

I heard that DST was passed to give wealthy golfers more time to play golf in the daylight. Now, I realize this was probably a sarcastic viewpoint. But I understand the sentiment.

We lived in Wisconsin when I became aware of DST. Wisconsin is the dairy state with herds and herds of dairy cows. From time to time, I had the privilege of staying with an aunt who lived on a very small farm. She milked several cows. Those cows had a milking schedule.

When their udders were heavy with milk, they were anxious to enter the barn where my aunt milked them. At times, I even got to holler at them to come—and they came.

DST meant twice a year, herds and herds of Wisconsin milk-ready cows had to be milked an hour earlier or later, depending on the time of year. Like that was going to happen. Instead, it was the farmer who had to completely change his/her schedule to match a nature-bending schedule.

We’ve grown up with DST. Other than when we must change the clocks Spring or Fall, most of us groan, lose sleep, get a bit confused and simply grumble. I wish DST would disappear.

But in light of all the other serious situations we’ve been facing, DST is down the list. Meanwhile, I’ll suck in a breath and hope my aging body and mind will adjust once again. Welcome to DST.

© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
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Blog Bio My house, my home--wherever it is

Our Kearney home

My father was a pastor. For us that meant we didn’t stay in one location for more than two to four years. How long we stayed and how often we moved depended on when another church would ask Dad to candidate and whether or not my folks felt God leading them to a different church.

My childhood was spent in Canada (my folks drove across a frozen lake in January so I could be born in the US), Minnesota, Wisconsin, Wyoming, Kansas and Iowa. In Clitheral, MN we lived in two places: a small house with very little room and a former red brick bank building that stood on mainstreet and still had a working vault. It also had a path out back.

Our Siren, Wisconsin residence was next to the church and held secret passageways. In Wyoming, Dad doubled the size of our home by adding on the old rectangular church building when the church bought the facility of a shop that went out of business and remodeled it for a church. The only way to get from one part of our house to the other was through a connecting back porch.

The Kansas Country church provided a large farmhouse on a farm worked by the members.

Iowa also had a farm-style house next to the church. But none of these houses were ours. In fact, since the church owned the buildings, my folks had to ask permission for changes--sometimes large changes, sometimes to simply add a nail on which to hang a picture.

We moved to Kearney, not for a church, but so I could attend college. My disabilities meant I needed to have family close. After renting, my folks bought a house and I could understand Mom’s joy at being in charge of her own home.

My parents planned to retire in Kearney, but then  Mom died suddenly of a stroke. At the time, Dad had been called back to a church in Canada. When Mom died so did their dream. Dad stayed with his church in northern Minnesota, met and eventually married a widow.

When Keith and I married, we rented apartments and then a house. We prayed for a house of our own, but didn’t have the resources until a government program was announced--and we qualified. My contractor brother Paul had wanted to build us a house, only neither he nor we had the financial resources.

But with the government approved loan, Paul was able to build a house specially designed for my disabilities. It is a one level plan with no basement, no stairs, and easy accessibility.

Friends helped us move in in 1979, just before the new year. It was just in time. I finally had a home that was ours. We brought our first child home from the hospital early April.

Today, I look around my home. The design hasn’t changed though it has been repainted, recarpeted, re-sided, had two new roofs--thanks to the weather--and had assorted other repairs.

We raised our children here, our grandchildren have spent countless hours with us on visits. This house has seen us through illnesses, surgeries, birthdays, and too many holidays and celebrations to count. Every nook and cranny holds memories.

I look back with gratitude for those who pushed us to apply for the loan and walked with us through all that entailed. And we still use the heated front walk Paul added as a Christmas surprise. I was also glad when not long after Keith retired, we were able to finally pay off the mortgage and make the house truly ours.

Now that we’re geezers and slowing down, that one-level plan is a blessing. After living in so many places, I am far from moving on from a place that has been a real home for so long. I also look forward to making many more memories in this, a home of our own.

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published Kearney Hub 2/23/2020
Read more of my life in my bio The Day Secretariat Won the Triple Crown
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