11/30/20 11/30/20

Blog Count blessings during this holiday season

We could hardly see out the front window. Snow obliterated everything. We were snug in our house, but our daughter, scarcely more than a toddler, was very ill. Her temperature had zoomed to scary levels,

We needed to get her to the doctor, but our car would never make it in the blizzard. We had to do something. We called my brother who lived a few blocks south of us. His car might get through.

Paul didn’t hesitate. He said he’d come. I remember Keith holding Cassie on his lap, both of them dressed for the weather. As soon as Paul pulled up, Keith carried her out to the SUV. Paul got them through to the doctor. A good thing. Cassie had pneumonia and needed medicine. She was sick for quite a while, but thanks to Paul, Cassie got the diagnosis and medication she needed.

When Chris and Cassie were in elementary school both of them came home with the flu. It was nasty and they weren’t making it to the bathroom to throw up. I knew I couldn’t be going room to room so had them snuggle down in our bed. By then the hallway didn’t look or smell so pretty good. I could give the kids water and have them take large doses of vitamin C, but I knew, with my disabilities, I would not be able to clean up the hallway or bathroom.

I called Paul’s wife Lorene. Like Paul, she did not hesitate. She grabbed what she had from home and came over. Once she scoped things out, she called Paul. She had him bring orange juice and 7-Up for the kids and more cleaning products.

Meanwhile, she got paper towels, rags, and cleaning supplies together. To handle the smell, she actually clipped a clothespin on her nose. With the help of Lorene and Paul, the house got cleaned up and we got the kids resting comfortably. By the time Keith was able to leave work, the kids were asleep. So many times, my brother and wife have been there—ready, willing, and without complaint.

They aren’t the only ones. Others, too, have been there when I fell, needed a ride to the doctor or to take the kids someplace. We have been blessed by caring family and friends.

This Thanksgiving I was thankful not just for a day in which to give thanks, but also a day to be grateful God put such special people in our lives. Real relationships aren’t about selfishness or all-about-me, but about reaching out in God’s love to those around us. For that I give thanks.

Friendships a Matter of Gratitude

I am thankful for family and friends
The kind who rally round
In times of trouble or need
Who don’t expect a return for their effort and time,
Who give with a hug and a smile,
And give again without complaint
Who cry when you cry,
And laugh when you laugh
And make you want to give back in turn
In their time and need
Reaching out as family and friends we
Make the world a better place to be
Because, like Jesus taught and lived, we
Are sacrificial friends.

Especially during times like this year when it is easier to complain, we need to have an attitude of gratitude, not just at Thanksgiving time and on into the Christmas season, but also on every day of the year.

10/20/20 10/20/20

Blog Saying goodbye not a one-step process

Saying goodbye to a loved one may seem like something we can capture like a snapshot in our memories. We know the last time we saw or spoke to that person. We may even be present when our loved one takes that last breath. But there is so much more to death than a simple goodbye.

When we lost my husband Keith’s dad earlier this year in the midst of Covid-19, and though the virus wasn’t the cause of his death, it did change the situation. When he went to the hospital the family could not be with him to encourage, hug or pray with him. At least one family member could be there--until he chose Comfort Care rather than aggressive care. It meant family could be with him.

It meant our two children who’d come for a visit with our daughter’s two little ones were able to see their grandfather one last time. They didn’t know how quickly he would be gone, but knew since they did not live here, they probably wouldn’t see him again. He was gone a day later. A goodbye. A memory.

Shock turned into planning the funeral, which we were able to hold in his church and with guests--family and friends who loved him. We filed by the casket, stopping, swallowing hard, and wondering how could a fall so quickly deteriorate to this?

Yet there we were, suffering and encouraging each other at the same time. We said our face-to-face goodbye. After the service, we said goodbye once more at the cemetery where he was laid to rest four years after the death of his wife, my husband’s mother. We heard the pastor’s words of comfort, and heard the 21-gun salute to a former WWII veteran.

As the oldest sibling, Keith who received the flag was overwhelmed and honored. Another goodbye, but goodbyes do not end with a funeral.

Instead, it has become a new chapter of grieving and goodbye’s as the siblings deal with a lifetime lived well. I lost my dad to a heart attack in 1988. He’d been my dad since my birth in 1950. He left a hole in my life and heart. But I also had another father I respected and was glad to share Keith’s dad for the next 32 years. I’d rather have Jiggs back than his inheritance.

But that was not to be, God called him home and I am sure he would not wish to return. It was a goodbye for who knows how long. But one of the hardest goodbyes was getting together with family to go through Dad’s things left in his home.

He hadn’t changed much of anything after Keith’s mom died in 2016, so we had her as well as Dad’s material possessions to go through. Before going to Minden, I’d asked our kids what they wanted from the house. Chris and his children wanted books. I went through boxes and boxes of books, pulling out those our family would enjoy or appreciate. I got recipes for Chris, an amateur chef. It was so hard.

No one fought. What needed to be saved simply needed to go to some family member. Saying yes to another item and packing it away seemed like another goodbye.

Before long what was left in the house would be turned over to the auctioneer. Soon the house that rang with so much laughter from family get-togethers would also be gone. Death isn’t one goodbye. It is a series of goodbyes.

Maybe we need the time in order to grieve. All I know is that I am thankful for life today--even if that means I’ll be saying goodbye again and again as something comes to mind and grief overwhelms.

It happened with my folks and still, though less often now, with my brother who died in 2019. Through it all, I can say goodbye because I know God’s comfort and care through His Word, prayer and through the love of family and friends. Though I know grieving has not ended, I am thankful for today, for the memories and for the knowledge that this life is not all there is.

8/31/20 8/31/20

Blog Bio Before the KSC/UNK campus was accessible

Recently my oldest grandson and I exchanged emails. I asked him if he would be able to attend his college courses in person this fall or still have to attend online. He answered that he would be able to physically attend classes, but he preferred online.

I told him I hadn’t had such choices which led to some interesting stories. He wanted to hear them and that got me remembering. Back in the early 1970s, my parents were looking for a college for me to attend. At the time, my father had no church so we were free to move to any place with a suitable college, one with a journalistic program and one where I could get around on campus. (I had one year at a community college all on flat ground.)

Getting around to classes was no small thing as I was in a wheelchair I couldn’t even wheel myself, though I could peddle a bit with my feet. Also, there were no ADA laws making it clear that colleges and businesses needed to accommodate those with disabilities.

After visiting what was then KSC (UNK), we were told they would help me get to my classes. Obviously, no one really considered what this meant. Nevertheless, my parents, my younger brother Paul and I moved to Kearney, which felt like home right away. (My older sister was married and lived in Kansas.)

After we settled in Kearney, my pastor father was once more called to serve a church—this one in Canada. Since we all loved Kearney and Dad would soon retire, Mom and Dad decided only Dad would leave to serve the church, while the rest of us stayed here in Kearney.

That created an interesting problem since my mother did not drive, leaving my high school brother as our only driver. He took me to college on my first day and got me to my first class. Somehow, I did get from class to class that day. At the end of the day the person wheeling my chair left me outside a building that is no longer on campus. I wore a warm cape, but the skies were threatening and mist threatened to become rain.

Paul was supposed to pick me up, but he didn’t. I tried to turn around. I saw he and two friends entering a building too far away to hear if I called. Obviously, they were looking for me. I was getting cold, praying, and wondering what to do. A woman saw me out of the window and took me back inside.

We tried to call my home but got no one. There were no cell phones. She knew who I was from church and decided to take me home. I was so grateful. On the way home we passed Paul who’d gone home to check if I were there. When I wasn’t, he headed back to the college.

He saw us and, thanks to the kindness of a stranger I was OK. When he got home, Paul added to the story. After unsuccessfully searching, he contacted the security office—campus cops.

He explained the situation. “My sister’s in a wheelchair and I need to find her.”

The officer on duty appeared bored. He glanced at his watch. “I’m going off duty now. If you haven’t found her by morning, let us know.”

Thankfully, unlike Campus Security, a stranger cared enough to get me home.

The old administration building consisted of three or four floors with no elevator. When I had classes in the ad building, I’d call my professor and explain I was in a wheelchair and couldn’t do stairs. Most professors assigned young men to wait at the bottom of the stairs and carry me up chair and all. Those were some wild rides.

These guys were kind and treated me with respect.The problem came during test time. As soon as someone finished the test they were to leave. No one thought—including the teacher—how that affected me. It left me at the end of the day stuck on a top floor of the ad building, mostly emptied of teachers, students and almost everyone else.

Paul would never find me, though by then he pretty much knew where I’d usually be for pickup. I had one option—prayer. It was frightening to be stuck with no options. Suddenly, up the stairs came someone I knew.

For some reason, she had business up there that afternoon. She was surprised to see me and shocked at my situation. It didn’t take her long to find some strong arms to carry me back downstairs. I was so grateful!

I can’t say how many times I needed a ride and how thankful I was for the kindness of complete strangers who helped me get around when I “got stuck.”. That was especially true in Winter when sidewalks were cleared with only a narrow path for walking.

I graduated with many good and some scary memories and a heart of gratitude that I would remain in the town that, for the most part, welcomed me—Kearney NE.

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published in Kearney Hub 8/31/2020
Read my autobiography The Day Secretariat Won the Triple Crown

8/4/20 8/4/20

Blog Bio Jiggs a Special Father-in-law

My father-in-law was a quiet, but strong man. He was the only father in my life since my own father died in 1988. While LaVern (Jiggs) Scheidies was not a loud, boisterous person, his quiet presence drew attention.

He was intelligent and a conversation with him was never boring. His family loved him. Since losing my mother-in-law in 2016, we, as much as he’d allow, pampered Him.

Dad was a farmer, an honorable profession. But he was so much more. In WWII he was a tail gunner. He attended Hastings College when he returned home, before joining his family in farming. He grew corn including some of the best popcorn around. He clerked sales and auctions. He bought property and houses that he rented out.

If you needed a part or some equipment, he’d know where to find what you needed. He was an entrepreneur. In their later years, after Jiggs and Bert left the farm and moved to Minden, I remember once when Keith and I visited. His folks were so excited as they shared the news. They’d purchased a post office of all things. I didn’t even know a private person could own a post office, but it proved to be a good investment.

Keith’s folks loved their five kids of which my husband Keith was the eldest—Keith, Mark, Randy, Rhonda and Tim. They welcomed spouses once their children married. And, they loved their grandkids. Our two enjoyed spending a week or two each summer at the farm. Chris even got to assist with irrigating.

Keith’s folks drove into Kearney to attend games, school and church plays, programs, and other events in which Chris and Cassie were involved. They were the ones who started the tradition of going out for ice cream afterward.

Eventually, the grandkids married and there were great grandkids to spoil. In 2016, we lost my mother-in-law. Two years later, Dad entered Bethany's Home with a staff that took good care of him. He kept his home.

Periodically, Keith and I bought Kentucky Fried Chicken, brought Dad to his home, and enjoyed dinner with him. We loved these special times with Dad. We thought we’d have many more of these times together.Then Covid19 hit and Bethany Home, like other homes for senior citizens, locked down.

No longer could we visit with Dad, except via phone—and he was hard of hearing. It was a hardship for us, but even more so for Dad. It got worse when April 30th Dad’s son Mark died of a freak accident and we could not hug and comfort Dad.

Bethany's staff did facilitate Keith and his siblings visiting Dad through an entry door where he could see them and communicate via a cell. Keith said he smiled the entire time they were there. Maybe we’d get through this.

Then blood clots sent Dad to Good Samaritan Hospital in Kearney. We expected he’d recover. He didn’t. Once in Comfort Care more family could visit. It meant our two who’d come to visit us with Cassie’s little ones (who stayed with us), were able to visit and say goodbye to the Grandfather that they loved and who loved them.

The next day, he passed away. Two huge losses and so close together—neither from the virus. Thankfully, we could hold a funeral and have time to remember, visit those who came and be thankful for a man who honored God, his country, and his family.

I am sad. My heart grieves and yet, I also feel blessed. I am thankful for having two wonderful fathers who loved and influenced me and who left an example of caring and integrity.

7/5/20 7/5/20

Blog Bio My Way-or God’s

LISTEN! WHO ME?

Read: Proverbs 1:1-7

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.--Proverbs 1:7 (KJV)

I remember my dad trying to replace the plug on a lamp cord. Dad was very handy, always able to fix anything around the house that needed fixing. This simple job had him stumped. He struggled and struggled with a job he thought he understood, growing more and more frustrated by the minute.

Again and again, he stripped the wires, shortening the cord a bit each time. Finally, totally exasperated, Dad picked up the plug box and found the directions. He read them. To his chagrin, he discovered this particular plug was a new “easy” install type.

All he needed to do was lay the cord, as it was, in the groove and snap on the cover--no stripping, no connecting tiny wires. How foolish I could see he felt as he completed a five-minute job in about an hour. How much needless frustration he caused himself.

How often could this be you or me?

“No one is going to tell me what to do?” That includes listening to good advice or reading directions. Who makes these claims? The tough kid who skips school. The teenage girl sneaking out to meet her boyfriend. The young marrieds in the throes of their first big disagreement. The employee who doesn’t like a new, common-sense regulation.

How often do we, in essence, use this phrase in our Christian life? When we ignore God’s Word, ignore communicating with him, ignore the fellowship with His people, we are telling God, “I don’t want to do things Your way. I’ll do it MY way.”

Because we’re “saved”, because we claim the name of Jesus, we think we’ll escape the consequences of our rebellion, but rebellion is still rebellion. We go our way and end up with disaster, depression, chaos, and emptiness in our lives.

How much pain and hurt and frustration do we need to go through before we’re willing to come back to Jesus for forgiveness, read His instructions, and follow His directions for our lives? He’s not there to kill our “fun,” but to help us find the richest life possible--a life meant only for those who follow Christ in His will and way. Time to commit to read and study God’s Word and to talk to Him.

Dear Lord, forgive me for trying to do life my way, not yours. Help me take the time to read Your directions each day and to listen when You speak to my heart and mind. Amen.

Meditations:
Monday: II Timothy 3:16-17
Tuesday: II Samuel 12:1-14; Psalm 51
Wednesday: Proverbs 2
Thursday: Psalm 113
Friday: James 4
Saturday: Proverbs 3

6/23/20 6/23/20

Blog Bio Snakes, summer and surprises

I have had quite a history with snakes. I am not talking about snakes in our front and back yard. I am talking about adventures with snakes that somehow manage to sneak into our house and surprise me at the most inopportune times.

I’ve dealt with a huge sake inside the front door and half under the baseboard that looked about ready to deliver who knows how many wiggly baby snakes. I screamed. The only person I could think of in the vicinity was our pastor at his office at the church. I called.

Pastor Dave came with a rake and had that snake out and dispatched before I could take a breath. That was the beginning of my adventure. My contractor brother had his crew fill in the crack between the sidewalk and the front of the house. Nothing coming in that way!

One year a snake suddenly appeared out of the baseboard in the kitchen and slithered behind the refrigerator. I knew snakes hate salt. Out the back door, I’d I poured salt down the opening between the sidewalk and the house and had snakes escaping right and left.

I used that knowledge by opening the garage door (next to the refrigerator) and pouring salt on the kitchen floor to keep the snake out of the rest of the house while giving it a way out. Never saw that snake again.

I had a snake walk me down the hall at night. I sensed I was not alone. When I flipped on the light, there was this little, almost, cute baby snake looking up at me. Eventually, my fear dwindled and I‘d had enough.

Because of my limitations, I keep what I call “helper hooks” around the house. They help me reach, dress and pick things up. Finally, I found one more reptile just inside the front door.

This time I noticed one of my hooks hanging up nearby. My mind flashed to the place I’d been with my family many years earlier in the Black Hills where they handled snakes with hooks. After managing to open the front door, I grabbed my hook, hooked that snake, and threw it outside. I felt a sense of satisfaction.

For a while, I thought I’d seen the end of snakes entering our house. I stopped checking out corners and the doors. All was well. Not quite. So much has happened this year, I really didn’t need one more thing. But, we can’t always control circumstances.

We’ve been pretty much staying home and self-distancing until lately. Instead of shopping, we ordered groceries to be delivered. That morning I saw the vehicle pull up and headed to the door to open it so the delivery person could bring our groceries inside.

Oh no! There was a snake right inside the door—again. I was startled. I screamed for Keith. Even using a cane he responded quickly and, using his cane, had that snake out the door by the time the lady got to the door with our order.

Is my adventure beginning all over again? I hope not, but I am pouring salt around the places these creatures may sneak in. I really don’t like snakes, but considering everything else going on, snakes in the house is, by comparison, creepy, but not earth-shaking.

They aren’t poisonous snakes after all. Besides, I am reminded that they, as are we, God’s creations and whatever snakes are in my house or life, I can be thankful that He’s got this.

6/9/20 6/9/20

Blog Bio Mark Scheidies—friend, family and loss

2018 Dad Jiggs Scheidies with his kids—Rhonda, Tim, Randy, Keith and Mark

Kearney Hub title: Mark special brother-in-law

April 30, 2020 we lost my husband’s brother Mark to a freak accident. To say the least, it was a shock.

I didn’t know my husband Keith’s family very well when we married over a year after I graduated from what was then KSC, now UNK. We married after I had major surgeries to straighten my legs and year-long therapy to help me relearn to walk again after being in a wheelchair for almost 10 years.

To say I was nervous when I met his parents doesn’t begin to explain how I felt. After all, Keith was their oldest of five siblings—Keith, Mark, Randy, Rhonda and Tim. And he brought me home. Yet the whole family was gracious and accepting.

While Mark was one of Keith’s groomsmen, it took time to really get to know him. I remember being at their parent’s home for a meal after which the family members pulled out board and card games. I was asked to join the group who played Risk. It had to be the shortest game on record.

When asked to play it again another time, I was so emphatic about my refusal I caught his sister’s attention. “Did you play Risk with Mark?”

“Yes,” I said.

I got a head shake. “You never play strategy games with Mark.”

I quickly learned you needed your wits about you when playing games with him. In fact as his obituary stated He earned an expert ranking in tournament chess and was Colorado Postal Chess Champion. He played in over 1,000 Trivia competitions and made it into the Jeopardy contestant pool six times.

When the siblings married and we started having kids, the uncles did not back away. They were very involved in the lives of their nieces and nephews. One favorite picture is of a protective Mark in the barn loft with our son, his nephew, Chris, and his daughter Tiffany and niece Anne.

I really got to know Mark once my writing career took off. I began attending the large Colorado Christian Writer’s Conference. When it was held in Boulder, I stayed with Mark and Jenni. Jenni usually went with me to hold my “stuff” and to see I got to my seminars. But as a working dentist, she wasn’t always available.

I remember once when Jenni had to work, Mark willingly came to the conference with me and helped me get around. Not only that, but he agreed to critique one of my early manuscripts. He took his work seriously and his suggestions may have made the difference in being offered a book contract.

Though we often differed politically and theologically, we could talk for hours. I loved hearing his insights and he seemed to appreciate my insights as well. Mark was not only very intelligent but also unfailingly gentle, kind, and thoughtful.

Even as he lay in the hospital after his accident not knowing his future, he was more concerned about his family and about who was going to deliver the Meals on Wheels when he couldn’t.

He was, as are his brothers, what is hard to find these days—a true gentleman. In losing him, especially so unexpectedly and so suddenly, my husband lost a dear brother, I lost a brother-in-law and friend.

During this time of social distancing, what is really hard was not to be with his family to give hugs to his wife Jenni and his children and grandchildren. Hard not to be together to remember and grieve the loss of a good man, a beloved husband, father and grandfather.

But I can purposely remember and I give thanks for all the good memories made from family get-togethers of a close family. We reach out with cards, calls, and even Zoom. And I can pray for his family. That’s something we all can do for each other.

Mark thanks for making my life better for knowing you. Rest In peace.

5/19/20 5/19/20

Blog Bio Spring, Virus and Relief

My 70th birthday. January 2020. Keith in the wheelchair.

It has been a long year for Keith and I. January 2019 began with the death of my brother Paul. The rest of the year centered around dealing with all the aspects of his loss. This year was a new beginning. We got one, but not what we expected. Early January, Keith slipped on a patch of ice and down he went.

Thankfully there were individuals who helped him. After a visit to a specialist, Keith got the news. He’d broken his ankle which would take 6-8 weeks to heal. During that time he wore a huge boot for protection and was told to absolutely stay off of it.

For the first several weeks he used a wheelchair, then a walker, and finally a cane and a brace instead of the boot. He’s still using the cane. If walking on uneven ground, he is still supposed to wear his brace for extra protection. It was exciting when he could drive again. We could go shopping, could go out to eat--and we could attend church services again. (I don’t drive.)

That lasted maybe 3 weeks or so. Then the nation was immersed in trying to stop the pandemic of Covid19. Social distancing and staying home became the new watchwords. Who were the most vulnerable? We were. Not only are Keith and I in the target age group for getting the virus, our immune systems are compromised.

After spending the first part of the year at home due to Keith’s injury, now we stayed home to stay safe and well. While Keith is an introvert and is fine with his books, iPad, and computer, I have discovered I’m not the introvert I thought I might be.

Yes, I like alone time. Yes, my work is a solitary pursuit. But as much as I enjoy alone time, I also need interaction with people. I also do better with sunny skies rather than with overcast skies, gloom, and rain. With the warming weather, just going outside, standing in the sunlight, and breathing in deeply helps.

I am thankful warm weather is arriving. I am also thankful this happened at a time technology can help us keep connected. Our church started pre-recording services for Sunday worship. Wednesdays, Zoom helps us stay in touch with our church Fellowship and Prayer time. Phone calls continue from family and friends. Email also helps us keep in touch. We can even meet, with caution, in small groups.

I really covet FaceTime with our daughter and two youngest grandkids--Ellery (3) and Ezekiel (1). Like our daughter, Ellery is more of an extrovert and misses time with friends. Now, she asks her mom to talk with Gramma and Grampa via video. It is wonderful to be able to see and hear them.

It also makes me long for the day we can get into our car and drive to Omaha and give long hugs. Meanwhile, restrictions are slowly being relaxed. Even that leads to frustration and the urge to complain. Instead, we can do something different. We can count our blessings and reach out to those who need a word of encouragement.

We can pray for those making decisions that they will make wise ones. We can pray for the safety of medical personnel and we can pray virus cases will continue to decrease. Further, we can love and continue to spend quality time with our families. Finally, we can give thanks that this, too, shall pass. Use wisdom and stay safe.

5/5/20 5/5/20

Blog bio Surprise on Mother’s Day

My family moved to Kearney in 1969 for one reason—so I could continue my college education. Though my father was a pastor and there was no church of our denomination in Kearney, my parents chose to move here. That must have been rather scary.

What would a pastor with two kids do in Kearney? (My older sister was married and lived in another state.)

We settled on KSC, now the University of Nebraska at Kearney, because they had a journalism program and because, before the ADA regulations they were willing to see I made it to my classes. (I was in a wheelchair I could not wheel by myself.)

Dad found a job and we settled into living in Kearney. In fact, my folks fell in love with the area and were even talking about retiring here. Then something happened. My dad received a call from a church in, of all places Ontario, Canada. He was known in the area because his first churches were in Ontario, Minnesota, and Wisconsin.

My folks discussed the situation. I was doing well in college, my brother Paul was in high school. They decided Dad would go north on his own, though Mom and I went up the next summer to stay with him. (Paul stayed home to work.)

Dad came for visits when he could. Even though Mom missed Dad, she seldom complained about the situation. With Mother’s Day coming up, I knew her heart’s desire was to spend time with Dad. How could Paul and I make it special for Mom? Turns out, we didn’t have to.

At the time, we’d rented a large house south of the fairgrounds. Since I couldn’t do stairs, Mom fixed up the old laundry room for me, which had a bathroom off the room.

My parent’s bedroom was upstairs, but often Mom slept on the downstairs couch feeling uncomfortable leaving me downstairs alone. When someone knocked on the door in the middle of the night, she was sure of her decision.

She hurried into my room. “Carolyn, someone is at the door.”

She wrung her hands. “What do I do?” (There had been some weird stuff going on in our neighborhood.)

I told her to peek through the curtains. She sucked in a breath and headed for the living room. Silence. Had I given the wrong advice? Then I heard a loud scream. Usually a scary sound, but I could tell this wasn’t a scream of terror. It was a scream of surprise and joy.

I threw off the covers and struggled into my wheelchair. A moment later, I understood as Dad’s arms surrounded me. He’d come home for one reason—to surprise Mom for Mother’s Day. He certainly did that.

This year visits will be few, far between and careful because of the virus. The difference between then and now is that even safe at home we’ll be able to see and interact with family—grandkids—using FaceTime. Dad provided Mom a special memory. This year, I don’t expect a visit, surprise or otherwise. Instead, I’ll make memories online.

If not in person, let your mom know you care with a card, a phone call, or an online chat. Maybe you won’t match Dad’s surprise, but you can reach out to let your mom know the important thing—you are thinking about her and love her.

Happy Mother’s Day!

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published in Kearney Hub 5/4/2020
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For more on the author’s life read The Day Secretariat Won the Triple Crown

4/13/20 4/13/20

Blog Biographical The Secret Helper and a Lesson in quiet Generosity

This happened when our two children were still very young. They grew up knowing Mom might be laid up with another surgery, often a joint replacement surgery, that entailed months of recuperation.

Before my 3rd knee revision, Martha's* name and face scarcely registered. I expected the operation to be quick and fairly straightforward. After all, I'd been through this type of surgery several times to repair the damage done to my joints due to Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis.

Instead, I ended up with a splint holding my leg straight for two months. Weak and easily tired, I realized getting back to normal was going to take a while. After I returned home from the hospital, Martha brought over a delicious chicken casserole.

"Cooking is not my thing,” she apologized. “I'd much rather clean and do housework. If you ever need help, give me a call."

Many times in the next weeks I thought of picking up the phone, but pride held me back. I hated asking for help. Sunday after Sunday Martha asked my husband how I was doing, adding, "Have your wife give me a call."

One day the house, my continued weakness, and my frustration became too much even for my stubborn pride. I couldn't keep up with the many household tasks required with two young children in the house. Hesitantly, I called Martha.

The very next morning she brought over her heavy-duty vacuum and a will to work. Within a short time, she turned my disaster area into a livable house again. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I thanked her--profusely.

It didn't end there. A few days later, she returned carrying two baskets. Giving them to my then two and four-year-old she said, “These are for your toys.” She added a toy to each as an incentive. Then she cleaned my house again.

When dinner hour approached, Martha endeared herself to my children (and to their harried mother) by ordering a fast food meal for us. Martha's generosity and willingness to serve put me to shame. When I tried to pay her, she shook her head. "I'm not interested in money," she said. "Just promise one thing."

"Sure. What?""

Don't tell anyone what I've done." She hesitated. "This is one of those things my left hand is doing that I don't want my right hand to know about."

Smiling, she added, "Pass it on...just pass it on."

While I could not thank Martha publicly for all she'd done to encourage me during a lonely, frustrating time, I could do what she asked. And I do. Whenever I get the opportunity, I try to be a "Martha" to someone else who needs a secret or not-so-secret helper.

A version of this article first appeared in the now defunct magazine THE WITNESS, Summer 1987.
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3/23/20 3/23/20

Blog Bio My house, my home--wherever it is

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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3/20/20 3/20/20

Blog 2007 Minneapolis Bridge Collapse and What We Can learn from Tragedy

An aerial view shows the collapsed I-35W bridge Aug. 4, 2007.

Life goes off the rails of our plans often with little or no warning, Life happens. One of that horrifying and totally unexpected occurrences was the collapse of the 35W bridge in Minneapolis, MN.

After it happened and it made national news, most saw photos and viewed video clips of the massive 35W bridge that collapsed in Minneapolis and followed the search to account for all those who were traveling on the doomed bridge that afternoon. For all the tragedies, there were miracles as well.

My cousin Dwight Nelson lives in the Minneapolis area. He and his family regularly used what he called “perhaps one of the two most often traveled bridges in Minnesota.” August 1, 2007, the 35W bridge, with a 500 foot span that connected the downtown and southern areas of Minneapolis with the northern suburbs and the rest of the city, collapsed during heavy traffic. (The bridge was near where my Aunt Esther lived in a retirement situation.)

Dwight's son, Mark, regularly took that bridge home from work. About the time Mark should have been on the bridge, Dwight got the news of its collapse. For an hour, Dwight tried to raise Mark on his cell phone, but everything was jammed. To his great relief, he found a message on his computer when he reached home. "Heya, I'm alive." Because of road construction, Mark had taken a different route that afternoon.

That was just one of the miracles my cousin experienced that day. Dwight's cousin Dave should have been on that bridge. But that afternoon a co-worker dropped by and started chatting, and kept talking and talking. Dave missed the crossing and the collapse on a bridge he'd used earlier in the day.

Dwight wrote this about his own escape. “I just picked up Mandy, my daughter, at the airport. (She'd been on a mission's trip.) Since we were out looking for a quick snack, we ended up on a freeway connecting to 35W. I was tempted to take 35W home, which would have put us on the 35W bridge. At the last minute, I turned around and took a different freeway home, even though it was probably about 5 miles longer. I am not sure why I did that other than I knew traffic would be bad on 35W. Deep down, I also feel it was God's hand moving us to take a different route home.”

Mandy's friend escaped the collapse by a few minutes simply because she wanted to arrive at the Minnesota Twins ballgame early. Her friend, who realized she’d missed by minutes being on the bridge when it collapsed, was so shook up she left the game. Dwight also told of a stranger who stood behind him at the hardware store who said he would have been on the bridge. It was the way home. But last minute plans with his son took him another direction.

Dwight ended his post with, “I'm sure the stories will go on and on, so many people use that bridge. I am also sure that God leads and directs our lives in many different ways....” Sometimes miracles aren't huge. Sometimes God uses what might otherwise be everyday frustrations and circumstances to change our lives.

God is right here even during times of tragedy like the bridge collapse or dealing with a pandemic. He doesn’t promises roses all the time, but He does promise to be with us, comfort and guide us as we turn to, rather than away, from Him when we go through difficult circumstances.

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