Blog Bio As siblings, we debated with fun, respect
When we were kids my younger brother and I often started arguing over nothing. One of us would say, “No.” The other would say, “Yes.” and off we’d go. At times, we might even switch sides. We did it for fun. As we grew up we debated all sorts of things going on in our lives from chores to things we learned in school or church. Our older sister sometimes joined our “discussions.”
My dad had been a medic close behind the front lines in WW 11. Mom had an accounting degree and managed a firm of doctors or lawyers (I never remember which) in Minneapolis. They married after years of living on their own. Our parents were strong independent individuals who were not afraid to stand up for their point of view. Dad became a pastor and mom became his helpmate. Dad preached. Mom was a musician who played piano autoharp and accordion. We served small churches that took the abilities of both of our folks.
We grew up understanding the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. We also knew God’s love and the care of our parents who listened to us, spent time with us, read to us, and loved us. They also expected us to use our minds.
We learned if we wanted to present a case when we got into hot water, we’d better have a good argument and points to back up our side. If we truly were in the wrong, we might have been heard respectfully, but there were still consequences. Most of the time, we really couldn’t talk ourselves out of serious trouble.
When I was in elementary school in Wyoming, we had one TV channel and our time watching was limited. We didn’t have a telephone until a year before we moved to Kansas. Instead, we played board games, spent time with friends, and read--we all became readers and enjoyed debating.
Even as adults, Karin, Paul, and I would debate--each convinced the opinion held was correct. These weren’t physical fights, there was no name-calling or seething with anger. We enjoyed debating, discovering where our siblings were coming from, and, maybe, even scoring a point or two in our favor.
We have always been very different individuals, raised to think for ourselves. Sometimes one of us would play devil’s advocate. My brother’s wife would leave us alone when we got into it. She’d shake her head, saying if her family did this, they’d never talk to each other again.
Of course, we discussed politics, which was rather amusing since, as conservatives, we were pretty much on the same page. We just had different ideas of how to accomplish what we felt needed doing.
Today many don’t read. They do more interacting on their cell phone than in person. Few know how to interact without anger. We learned and grew from our discussions because we stayed on a topic, not on personal attacks. We also actually enjoyed the time spent together.
My brother is gone now. While my sister and I talk about different topics, political or otherwise, we don’t get into debates. It isn’t fun anymore. With a generation who seems bent on allowing anger to drive their actions, explode whenever someone disagrees with them and seek to stifle open and honest debate/discussion, I wish they could learn that tolerance for different points of view shouldn’t be stifled.
America is supposed to be a place of freedom of speech. I’d like to see others enjoy interacting with ideas without put-downs, anger, or seeking to cancel out the opposing point of view. Maybe then we’d become a more unified and caring country once again.
(c) 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Scheidies column published 6/13/2022 in the Kearney Hub
Feel free to share
Blog Bio Time for a Different car
Little did we know, in an accident, this car helped protect us.
After Keith retired several years ago, we were able to purchase the car of our dreams. Most of our married life we had old cars that didn’t stress out our extremely tight budget. It felt good to be able to purchase something better. We found a car both of us could get in and out of fairly easily. Though, of course, we cared about what was under the hood, we were excited that we found a car that worked in “our” color—a deep burgundy red. I also loved the heated seats.
That car gave us good service and we never stopped liking that car. However, we are older, we don’t bend as easily. Also, we needed to keep our front seats back. That meant we basically had very little room in the back seat. Certainly, it wasn’t comfortable for adults. Keith needed a car that was easier to get in and out of without pain. Further, we planned to vacation with friends in August, now that they are also retired. Our car would not do.
Finally, we headed to Midway after lunch. Keith made it clear to the salesman assisting us that we weren’t planning to buy that day. We were simply in the looking stage. In his office, he brought up a car meeting our requirements. And it was red. You bet we’d take a look.
The more he talked about the car, the better it seemed to meet our expectations. Yes, getting in and out went well. The sticker price was a surprise for that much car, which was only couple years old. Wow! Our drive was great.
Who knew God would make sure the very car we needed was on the lot—let go by a couple who, after buying it, sold it back because they had been assigned to go overseas as missionaries. So, instead of looking at other cars, we found ourselves back in the office filling out a pile of paperwork to purchase the car.
The car now sits in our garage, and we can’t believe the speed with which this went down. We expected a drawn out process, but God knows our abilities and energy. While I doubted we’d find a car we liked and in our color, God smiled and blessed us anyway. How can I not trust He cares.
I am thankful for our new-to-us car.
(C) 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog Abortion, the Bible and Guns
Some cherry-pick passages in order to claim the Bible allows for abortion. The question is, do passages such as Numbers 3:15 and Leviticus 27:6 really support abortion—the taking of a preborn baby’s life? Is a child of less than one month in the womb of less value?
Numbers 3:15 “Number the children of Levi after the house of their fathers, by their families: every male from a month old and upward shalt thou number them.” -KJV
Leviticus 27:6 “And if it be from a month old even unto five years old, then thy estimation shall be of the male five shekels of silver, and for the female thy estimation shall be three shekels of silver. –KJV
Actually, one has to force a meaning on these passages to assume they refer to abortion. According to the WELS Center for Mission and Ministry, these passages refer to “…the amount of money a person would pay the priests in order to redeem, to buy back, an infant who had been dedicated to the Lord in a solemn vow (Leviticus 27:6) and the minimum age for the census of the Levites that Moses was going to undertake (Number 3:15).”
Another passage used is Exodus 21:22-25. If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her, and yet no mischief follow: he shall be surely punished, according as the woman's husband will lay upon him; and he shall pay as the judges determine. --KJV
Some Bible versions translate the passage as miscarriage and is used by the pro-abortion crowd. Other versions translate the phrase as premature birth. There is a word used for miscarrying, but the word here is not that word, but the word used refers to a live birth. Either way, when taken within the text and original word uses, this passage has nothing to do with abortion.
Even if the first translation is correct, the passage does not support abortion. This is about an accident. Abortion is a deliberate act. Because a penalty is attached, this shows the value of the child. In this and other passages, an accidental death engenders lesser consequences than a deliberate killing. This affirms not destroys the humanity of preborn children and human life itself. Further, many who seek to twist Scripture to prove abortion don’t even believe in the Bible as God’s Word. The sole intent is to harm not deal honestly with the issue.
The overall message of Scripture is about a Creator who loves and acknowledges and values His creation even in the womb. Scripture backs up the value of life even for the preborn. "Now the word of the Lord came to me, saying, 'Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.'" --Jeremiah 1:4-5
"The Lord called me from the womb, from the body of my mother he named my name."--Isaiah 49:1b
“For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother’s womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works…. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret” --Psalm 139:13-15, NASB
In the New Testament, Jesus has bad things to say about those who harm His little ones. The Bible is not a book that promotes abortion. Instead, the Bible affirms life from a caring, deliberate Creator, and Jesus who came to heal and set free those in bondage, to the Savior who chose to give up his life to save His human creations, offering life in Him. Jesus is about life and love.
Abortion, on the other hand, is about torture and violence against the most innocent among us. Too many abortions, which is the deliberate killing of a preborn child, are done when that child could survive with medical care.
Planned Parenthood likes to abort in a way, when possible, to produce an intact child with a still-beating heart. These living babies are cut up, with no anesthesia, to sell for parts to be used for experimentation or for cell lines. There is big money in the sale of baby parts. Why? Because these babies are living and are fully human.
Abortion is a basic outcome of not believing in the preciousness of each human life. It discounts the value of life itself. This comes from pretending knowable truth doesn’t exist and there is no higher being who values life.
This affects the gun argument. Again, guns don’t kill, people do. It is a choice. When our young people are taught that life doesn’t matter, that it is ok to kill unborn babies, the sick, the elderly, why should they value life? What difference if society or they kill? Murder becomes simply another outlet. After all, those killed might legally have been killed before, and now in some states, even after birth.
The problem is not owning guns nor is it about abortion per se. It is what we feed our and our children’s minds and hearts. Why not instead, teach our children they are precious and special— because they are. Why not lift up a God who loves and cares for them, cares about life, and cares enough to be there for those who follow Him? Why not promote a culture that treats every person born or preborn, disabled or elderly with care and respect? Allow our culture a foundation of faith and the mental and physical health of the nation will rise. We’ll once more become a nation of life instead of death.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
https://wels.net/faq/bible-passages-used-to-support-abortion/
https://abort73.com/abortion/exodus_2122_25/
https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-misuse-of-exodus-21-22-25-by-pro-choice-advocates
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
Feel free to share
Remembering—Memorial Day 2022
The first Memorial Day I remember was as a first or second grader in Siren, Wisconsin. We were given flags and taken to the cemetery. We watched as the uniformed veterans stood proud and brave for a 21 gun salute. My dad Rev. William Fredrickson, a WW II vet, stood with the other vets. He’d explained why. Back then our people and culture understood the sacrifice. We honored those lost.
While we don’t worship our ancestors, as some cultures do, Memorial Day has expanded to include all our departed loved ones—not only our veterans.
My brother was the youngest of we three siblings. Paul Fredrickson always felt he had to watch over his older sisters. Yet, January 8, 2019, God took him home first. Suddenly Karin and I were two instead of three. We, his wife and our families were devastated at the unexpected loss.
Friday, hubby Keith and I bought a basket of red and white flowers to put on his grave. Yes, my brother and I would argue, sometimes even yell at each other. But we loved each other. He was there in so many ways when I or our family needed him. Flowers seem a small remembrance for a life time of memories.
Miss you, Paul.
Carolyn R Scheidies
Blog Bio Rain, Rain, and More Rain
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
Feel free to share
Blog Bio Girl's Weekend Out
Recently Keith drove me to York on a Friday where we met our daughter Cassie who drove from the Omaha area. We ate lunch together, transferred me and my “stuff” to Cassie’s car, and said goodbye to Keith who headed back home to Kearney. Cassie and I headed south to McPherson Kansas where my sister Karin lives.
The sun was out, the weather chill and I was glad I wore long sleeves under my lightweight jacket. Cassie and I talked all the way to Karin’s house. Out came Karin and her daughter Kelly who’d also come for the weekend. After a round of hugs, they helped me up the stairs to the front door. My stuff was brought into Karin’s bedroom. (Karin slept on a blow-up mattress in her office. I needed the high bed with the firm mattress.)
That evening, after supper we relaxed on Karin’s back patio. It has always felt so peaceful back there and still did. We talked and laughed until after midnight. No one slept really well that night, but in the morning we shared breakfast and hit every subject imaginable. Karin had planned to take us to visit her son and family, but Deanna said a couple of the girls weren’t up to par, colds, etc. We were tired, didn’t want to catch anything, and decided to stay put at Karin’s though Kelly and Cassie went for a 5-mile walk later.
Jim, Karin’s ex, stopped by to say “hi!.” Good to see him for a bit, though I gently scolded him for not having his phone—a safety precaution for those with health issues. Both Karin and I took short naps in the afternoon to get us through the rest of the day. Karin’s supper was delicious. We planned to sit on the porch again, but winter wear and me bundled up in a quilt still didn’t keep the cold at bay and we settled into the living room.
We did spend time going through another box of things that belonged to Karin and my dad, each taking what we wished to keep. I saved some things for son Chris and his family. I was excited because we finally found dad’s slides and early home movies. I’m hoping Chris can put them in a form we can watch and keep.
That night we all slept pretty well and kept up our conversations over breakfast. Cassie and I took time to pack up our stuff, which was taken to her car. Then we settled once more in the living room remembering experiences from our past and memories our folks told Karin and me as we grew up. No subject was off base. We left with hugs and some reluctance. But once Cassie and I headed north, we were anxious to get to our homes. We had a nice drive back to York where we transferred me and my stuff to our car. Keith and I said our goodbyes to Cassie, and we were on our way home.
It was a wonderful weekend, but it felt so good to be home. Even better that Keith said he missed me. Home is good, but I am glad we took the time to make memories with family.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog Bio Celebrations worth effort to make positive memories
From the time we kids started school, birthdays meant having friends over for games, presents, and cake. There was the year in Wisconsin my older sister Karin was sick on her September birthday and in bed, she couldn’t have her friends over. But Mom still managed to make her birthday special. We all went upstairs to her bedroom. Karin had already gotten her first wish, which she could see out the window--snow. My parents also made sure she got her second wish--ice skates.
In Wisconsin, kids started ice skating at a very young age. Karin didn’t have her friends, but she had good wishes, cake, and skates. Mom saw birthdays as something to be celebrated. As we got older, we got to choose what we wanted for our birthday dinners. By our teens often we opted for a couple of close friends to do something special with as well as dinner and Mom’s delicious cake. In Iowa, we lived out in the country, so I opted for a friend and the family. My choice for dinner was sloppy joes and chips.
Mom loved birthdays but loved Christmas even more. She went all out baking a variety of cookies, etc. not only for our family but for an open house for those from church and from wherever we lived at any given time. She’d also make plates of cookies to give away to those unable to attend the open house. Mom provided positive memories. Once I contracted Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis and was in constant pain for several years, those memories helped me focus on something good. I learned we need milestones of positive memories to look back on when life isn’t always so nice or when we’re dealing with hurt, pain, or loss.
Celebrations bring people together. Sometimes we don’t realize how important those gatherings can be. When my niece Crystal got married the family gathered. It was a great and fun day. Crystal’s Mom Jenni, Jenni’s siblings and families were all there celebrating--making memories. No one had a clue those memories would have to last a lifetime. It wasn’t long before one of her brothers passed away. That time together, eased some of the grief.
When I turned 70 on January 24th, 2020, our kids, Cassie and Chris, threw me a party at the Mitzy Pavilion Center. Family and friends gathered for pizza, cupcakes, gifts, games, and I received a special hug from my grandson Dane--who doesn’t give hugs. (Of course, he made quite a production of it, and I got pictures.) I loved it.
Keith’s Dad Jiggs was also able to attend. It was good to see him. Keith had fallen on ice in early January and had seriously damaged his ankle. He wasn’t supposed to put any weight on it at all. It meant we couldn’t go visit Dad in the home in Minden. So, it was great getting to spend time with him.
What we didn’t realize was that Covid 19 was about to hit, and we’d all be isolated. I never got to see Jiggs alive in person again. In the summer he fell, was taken to the hospital in Kearney, and, for a time, it appeared he was improving. Then he lost ground and we ended up with a funeral. I am so glad I can look back and remember him smiling and enjoying himself at my birthday.
Don’t let opportunities for celebration go by. We need the encouragement of celebrations. Since we can’t see the future, we also don’t know how important those times may turn out to be. So, take the time, to lift someone up with a celebration.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Hub column published 5/16/22 titled “Celebrations put exclamation point on life”
Blog May, Flowers and Hope
We might expect warm weather by May. Yet warmer temperatures have been slow in arriving this year. Many turned off furnaces when we had a few very warm days, only to turn them on again when the temperatures dipped into the freezing range bringing high winds, rain, and even hail.
Nevertheless, the grass is starting to green, trees are budding, and flowers are hesitantly poking their heads through the ground. I recall one year when cold temperatures kept Spring on hold while cold prevailed.
Then one day, almost by magic everything changed. Temperatures warmed and suddenly, as though waiting for just the right time, the outdoors bloomed with color and enticing smells of flowers and grass and so much more.
That special moment is what happens when we give control of our lives to Jesus. He comes in and everything becomes new. We become new creations in Him. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” 2 Corinthians 5:17 NKJV
What better time than now to become the beautiful creation God has in mind for those who follow Him?
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog I don’t like snakes
Photo by Dean Scholten on Unsplash
I really don’t like snakes. I really didn’t like that starting several years ago, at least once each season, one would find its way into the house. Every time proved to be a unique experience. I never wished to repeat any of those experiences.
Somewhere along the line, I found out snakes hate salt. It stings their skin. I tried it out the back door one year. There is a fissure between the house and the sidewalk. I knew snakes hid down that crack. I poured salt all along that fissure. The snakes slithered out in both directions as fast as they could. After that, I used salt in front of our doorways and any place that I thought they might even try to enter.
(I also learned salt is a problem for pesky insects. The salt becomes more effective when mixed with Borax and pepper. Then without adding deadly sprays to your house, a simple mixture in the right places depletes the house of many creatures you didn’t invite inside and do not want dwelling in your house.)
This year the day before Mother’s Day, I got a post from my daughter. She asked if I’d received her flowers. I said, “not yet.”
Then I went outside to check if something had been left. A box leaned against the house. My flowers! Curled around the box was, you guessed it, a snake. When I screamed for Keith, the snake slithered off into the grass.
While Keith picked up the box, opened it, and prepared the flowers for display on the table, I grabbed the salt. There is now a wide white band of it across the front door. Next, I duplicated that salt band outside the kitchen door leading to the garage. I do not want a snake in my house. Not this year. Not ever.
The red roses are beautiful, and I look up from my laptop to take in the sight of them on the dining room table. I am enjoying my flowers. I only wish I also didn’t flashback to a box at the front door greeting me with a 15-inch snake. At least it wasn’t poisonous. At least it crawled away not toward me and the open door. I appreciate the flowers and am grateful that, so far, there is no snake in the house.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog Bio The Joke’s on Me
Keith bought way too many bananas. He commented about how improbable that we’d be able to eat all those bananas before they went bad. I got the idea to make banana muffins the next morning. I wanted to get the muffins done early so I could focus on the rest of lunch.
I started putting the ingredients together, but I had a whole lot of things on my to-do list. I did part of the process and got distracted by other list items. I was about ready to return to my muffins when the phone rang.
Son Chris often calls when he is headed somewhere. This morning, he was headed to work. We talked until he got to work—maybe 15-20 minutes. By then the morning was getting away from me. I hurried to finish the muffins and get them in the oven.
Only when I was ready to take them out did the truth hit. I’d never added the banana. When I shared my goof with Keith at dinner, while we enjoyed those muffins, we laughed, The mind is a strange thing. I do get easily distracted. Guess I’ll simply slice up a banana, add yogurt and make that unused banana a part of supper.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog Changing Plans and Gratitude
Applebees
Ever since we got married a whole lot of years ago September 2nd, we’ve tried to eat out the second of each month to celebrate. Even when our finances were stretched beyond reason, we’d try to budget eating out one time during the month—the second.
We’ve been consistent, though things don’t always work out as planned. Hospital stays and surgery recoveries interfered, among other things—like Covid. At such times, we’re grateful that some places deliver or do carry-out. More now since Covid. Another problem now is my many sensitivities. Not every eating establishment is suitable, as we have discovered.
May 2022, we planned to eat at Applebees. It is May! We expect decent weather by May. In fact, a few days earlier we’d turned on the AC—only to switch it back to heat when the weather turned cold, windy, rainy and just plain nasty for several days.
By the time we were ready to head out for supper, we really didn’t want to go out. I checked the allergen menu and chose what I wanted. Keith tried to order online, but some of my sensitivities aren’t listed. We hoped for home delivery, but when I called, the best we could do was carry out. Well, they did bring it out, so Keith wouldn’t have to get out of the car. Calling meant I could tailor my food for my sensitivities so I wouldn’t have any nasty reactions.
So, we celebrated another monthly anniversary in the security and warmth of our own home, at our own table with good food I didn’t have to fix. Once more we gave thanks for another month of life, another month of being together. Thankful for our many blessings. Hopefully though, next month we can go out.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Photo by Loija Nguyen on Unsplash
Blog Bio Good Memories of Growing Up with Dogs
When we moved to Wyoming, Skipper, a large yellow dog, was already waiting for us. He refused to leave with the last pastor’s family. Though he scared those feeding him, he took right to our family and was our companion until he died.
Topper was a small, short-haired lovable mutt. Together, we explored the creeks, valleys and tunnels behind the parsonage in Wyoming. I had a freedom to wonder we can seldom afford kids today. I had to carry my pocket knife and be home by dusk when the night creatures, like bobcats, started hunting. Topper had a litter of puppies. One survived. Cutie was a long, curly-haired, black and white puppy—rather like a dusty mop.
We took Topper and Cutie with us when we moved to northern Kansas for the Lund Covenant Church. Six months later Topper died in trying to have another litter of puppies. I mourned my dog. Then we only had Cutie. He would have been but a mouthful for the ever-present coyotes. But somehow, he identified with them and his coyote howl would send chills down the back. Cutie loved wondering as far as thirty miles away. Eventually, everyone got to know him and would bring him back, letting him off in the driveway. He loved the car rides and loved getting home. Strangely enough, the coyotes never bothered our little dust mop.
After I got sick, Cutie would leap on my bed and snuggle with me. He lifted my spirits. Cutie was my brother’s dog until Paul got a “real”—a larger black dog. Cutie was too much a wanderer to take with us to the church in Iowa. We left him with a farm family who let him wonder.
In Iowa, we had an adult cat who thought she was all that. When Paul got a Golden Retriever puppy, the cat baited him, jumped on him, and made his life miserable. Then the dog grew up.
Usually, we made sure our dogs and cats got along. This was a whole other situation. The dog knew he wasn’t supposed to hurt the cat. Instead, he’d wait until no one was looking, grab the cat at the neck, and shake until, at times, he broke the skin. He never tried to kill the cat,, just bully her as though getting revenge. We had to be vigilant.
When Keith and I raised our kids, each of them chose a pet when they were seven years old and proved they would handle caring for a pet. Our older son chose a Black Lab. Our daughter, two years later, chose a feisty black cat with a white snip across her nose. They were part of our family until they died of old age—the cat at 19 years old.
Since then, we spoil the pets of our friends and family, leaving us free to visit our kids and grandkids in Lincoln and Omaha. Once on her own, Cassie took in a rescued dog who was a sweet little dog. Melvin dog accepted into their home Kurt when he married Cassie and then their two children. It was hard when he died since he’d been so much a part of the family.
More recently our son added to his family of three almost-grown kids. With his daughter leading the charge, they added a beautiful Husky named Bear and then, as a companion, a white dog nicknamed Candy.
Dogs are wonderful companions. They give unconditional love, listen when you share secrets, and simply want to be loved in return. I’m thankful for my memories and glad our kids and grandkids can make memories with loving pets as well.
Many of our dogs were rescued animals. They make wonderful companions. Looking for a dog (or cat)? Check out the nearest shelter. You’ll be glad you did.
(c) 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Hub Column published 05/02/2022
Feel free to share
Blog Miss those grandkids
When our son Chris’ kids were young, the family moved to Indiana for a job. We were used to seeing them once a week. Now, they were far away. That was before video was built into most computers and cell phones were for more than phone calls. We would so miss the three grandkids, but Chris had a video camera, and the plan was to make regular videos as well as phone calls.
What we didn’t realize was that the kids absolutely hated talking on the phone. Then Chris’ video camera went down. I had no idea the actual grief I would go through having our grandkids so far away. We were thrilled when they moved back to Nebraska a few years later. Every summer they came to stay with us for a week or two until they became teenagers with jobs and other activities. I missed those weeks, but we still got to see them periodically.
Chris’ kids are now young adults and on our way to or from Omaha to visit our daughter and family, we usually stop in Lincoln and go out to eat. Love talking to our grandkids. They are kind and intelligent and I learn from them. We usually find it difficult to say goodbye and head on home.
Our daughter married much later than Chris. Her kids are (in early2022) five and three—a whole different generation from Chris’ kids. But so much fun. We love their smiles. Chris’ kids are almost like an aunt and uncles to Cassie’s kids. We’ve visited for events, holidays, etc. as well to help out with the kids.
During Covid and even now at times, we stay in touch with Cassie’s kids using FaceTime. Ellery puts her hands on her hips. “Mom, we want to talk to Grampa and Gramma.” We get a call and open FaceTime. Our older grandkids and I stay in touch through email.
We also are all close enough to share holidays—usually in Cassie & Kurt’s home in Papillion. High school graduations and Chris’ kids’ birthdays we celebrate in Lincoln in Chris’ home.
As we get older, the trip east seems longer, but so worth the effort. It was so hard having our older grandkids far away years ago and such a blessing when they moved back. Work and school might mean our grandkids will eventually move further away, but right now I am thankful they are all within three hours of Kearney. We can go there, and they can come here to visit. I am already looking forward to that next visit.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog Hats, Hats, Hats
Photo by Stephen Hocking on Unsplash
I like hats. I don’t have a lot of hats, but one or the other of the few I do have are on my head during the winter. As a child, I didn’t want to go anyplace without my cowboy hat. Of course, my mother would not allow me to wear it to church or other functions. That went for my boots as well.
For years, as an adult, I had a knit black hat. I loved that hat. I couldn’t destroy it or crush it. My, at the time, young grandson absolutely loved that hat. After I entered the house, he reached up for my hat and played with it, and wore it during our visit. Eventually, that hat was no longer wearable. A friend did find me a similar hat that I wear though it is blue so doesn’t go with everything. Still, I am grateful for that hat. It is so easy to wear and comfortable.
My husband bought four hats that differ only in the color schemes. He looks great in them. When we visited our younger grandkids and their cousins, those kids reached for his hats. We have lots of pictures with them playing with and walking around with one or another of those hats falling over their eyes.
Keith and little Hannah played a game. One two three “go” and they switched hats, and again, and again. Hannah couldn’t stop laughing. Our youngest grandkids pick up the hats when they visit us here. Ellery over and over piled one after another on her head. Then started all over again.
Hats look good on our heads. They warm us in the winter. But the best has been the fun the kids have with them. It doesn’t take expensive toys to entertain kids. All it takes are hats. Now those make memories.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to pass on
Blog It Makes Me Sad My Peers are Catching up
I was a perfectly healthy child. In fact, while my brother and sister contracted the usual childhood illnesses, I never got sick. My mom even found I’d climbed into bed with my sister when she was recovering from chickenpox so we could play games. Mom freaked. I never got it. However, when I was 13, I contracted juvenile rheumatoid arthritis (JRA).
Within a short time, I was unable to walk, my joints drew up and I was in constant pain. I went from running to a wheelchair. I remained in that wheelchair for almost ten years. While God, eventually, provided a healing from the constant pain, the results of the disease left me depending on others and unable to walk. One rehab center helped me learn to take back some control, by helping me find ways to manage some care for myself—like dressing and pulling on socks. That assistance sparked my imagination, so I begin thinking of other ways to help myself.
Eventually, I had massive reconstructive surgery and relearned to walk, Still, my limitations meant many normal activities required new ways of doing things. My friends and family accepted me as I was, letting me do what I could and stepped in when I required assistance. I was thankful I could walk and do so many things, often with the aid of utensils, some of which I created myself or asked others to help me create.
I accepted who I was. I did not envy my friends for their health and had no wish for them to deal with my limitations. But time goes by. We’re older now. I don’t like to face the truth. Members of my family and friends now find themselves dealing with things I’ve dealt with most of my life. Some have had joint replacements. Many can’t walk as easily, don’t bend well, and worry about falling.
I can’t bend or stoop, can’t reach my hair, I have limitations with dexterity and strength. Early on I was given two sticks the physical therapist called “dressing sticks.” They had a large hook on one side and fashioners on the other end to help me pull up socks. The hooks helped me dress and pick things up. I took the idea further. I lengthened the sticks to three feet. Made sticks with different sizes of hooks. To everything not easy to pick up, including electronics, I added loops to make it easier to pick up with my utility stick hooks. (I drop things easily.) Those long sticks help me zip up boots—they, too, have added loops.
Before such things were available in stores, I added handles to dustpans. I could push things I dropped into the dustpan and pick them up. I bought grippers, the long-handled pinchers, in several different styles and have one in almost every room. I bought a super-duper one for Keith. I also have long-handled tongs and even use a back scratcher to pull things toward me.
I’ve learned that often I can figure out a way to do something by using implements I already have on hand. All it takes is thinking outside the box. I wish those I know weren’t catching up to me in developing physical disabilities but am glad I can share what I’ve learned to do with what I have. I can also encourage them—regardless of our physical limitations, to appreciate each day and give thanks.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog The Next Step
I was talking to a friend who’d stopped to pick up a couple of copies of my latest book. Neither of us are spring chickens anymore and we’ve both been through rough waters in our lives. We’ve dealt with loss and health issues and more. Those circumstances take a toll on a person, not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well.
She spoke of her last health issues that left her drowning in hurt and sadness, especially considering she still deeply grieved the loss of her dear husband. I am thankful I still have my husband, but in the last couple of years, I have lost a brother, a brother-in-law, and my father-in-law—none to covid and all unexpected. It hurts. Add that to both my husband's and my health issues, grief and/or pain and limitations can send one spiraling into depression.
There are times we all need someone to talk with and sometimes that person may be a health care professional. I have learned to appreciate these counselors since my daughter became one. My friend agrees, but also said moving on is a choice, sometimes a very hard choice, but still a choice. Sharing our heart with someone is a start to letting go. Books on grieving can be helpful. Simply choosing to get up each day can be a start in the right direction.
Then it is getting dressed. Getting out of the house. It is calling, texting, and emailing when one needs a friend. It can also be praying, being willing to ask for God’s help, or even yelling at Him. Anger is a stage of grief from loss or difficult circumstances.
It is also choosing to realize you are not alone and others, too, suffer, providing an opportunity to reach out. No one grieves or moves on in the same way, and what she concluded may not be pleasant or easy but is nonetheless true. Moving on is a choice and if we chose to simply do the next right thing, take the next step, we’ll make it through.
(c) 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog Books, Books and More Books
Right now, on our dining room table are three books. When he ran out of books to read, my husband Keith looked through my published books I keep available for gifts or sale.
He chose a mystery When Murder Wakesto read until he got new books to read. Keith usually reads while eating. At noon he reads a book and at supper, he reads the Kearney hub newspaper.
On the end of the table are two books. One is my latest book Three Sisters of Stanhavon Castlealong with a blue sock grandson Ezekiel left when daughter Cassie visited with our two young grandkids. She has a friend who enjoys Regency books. She lent out her copy and asked for another to replace it. I’m gathering books, etc. for our next visit to see her family in Papillion.
Next to those items is another book. Keith’s sister visited recently and left a book to pass on to our son Chris. A look around almost any room in our house—including bathrooms—reveals books on tables, shelves, on chairs and even in baskets. We love books and they overflow the house, even though I tend to read most of my fiction on my Kindle these days. (I can make the print as large as is comfortable for my eyes.) We love books.
I grew up with an appreciation for reading and books. From a young age, Dad read to us kids—even after we were able to read for ourselves. Made for some special family times. We passed on that love to our own children. In fact, from the time they were young and almost until middle school, Cassie, Chris, and I would choose a book and spend time together in the evenings while I read out loud.
They also read books on their own. Chris has passed on the love of reading to his, now, almost adult kids. I love choosing books for gifts. Cassie’s kids already love words and books. Ellery at 5 is starting to read and write. Ezekiel loves holding and looking at books and often falls asleep surrounded by them.
In life, we pass on both good and bad habits to our children. I am thankful our legacy is a good one—we passed on the gift of reading. I hope you do as well.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog Humor, Inhibitions and Paying Attention
Humor diffuses potentially awkward moments and anger. Humor lightens up lives and can make us forget sadness and other negative emotions for a time. Laughter is often a healthy release. However, humor can also be used in hateful and negative ways.
Bullies use derogatory humor to cut someone they don’t like down emotionally. Cruel humor can leave scars that last a lifetime. This includes parents, teachers, or others who constantly call someone stupid, fat, slow, or any number of hurtful terms. The big deal today is to call anyone whose opinion you don’t like a racist—usually totally untrue.
Humor has an even more insidious result. Humor is used to lower our inhibitions, getting us to accept things that would otherwise horrify us. But if a situation can be put in a humorous context, we laugh, not realizing we are no longer seeing a situation for what it really is.
One TV series, using humor, has an 8-year-old boy seeing through an alien’s disguise. The alien seeks to murder this child and, though the child is saved, the humor context focuses on the humor not the horror of a main character seeking to murder a child.
What about comedians who make fun of their wives or husbands, make a joke about the overweight, Christians or other groups of people? Such humor tears down instead of lifting up. God calls us to a higher standard. Let’s use discernment in the humor we allow in our lives—walking away from humor that really isn’t humor at all, a humor that becomes a tool of evil rather than good. Even more, let’s take care of our own, so-called humor, doesn’t hurt the very ones we profess to love.
© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
Blog: Spring vs Winter, Warm vs freeze
Spring never comes easily. It comes in fits and starts and growls and howls from a Winter season not yet ready to let go. Here it is April, and we haven’t even considered switching off the furnace for air conditioning. The heat still clicks on too regularly to even think of turning it off. Feels good to stand on the vents when that heat is released.
Still have lots of covers on the bed and I am still wearing my Winter nighttime attire. This week we’ve had some gloomy days, high winds which keeps us glad we are indoors, and, today cold, cutting rain that hit the windows more like ice than rain.
Reminds me of April 1980. A couple of days before my first child was born, we had a huge blizzard. When I went to the hospital, snow was still piled all over. Two days later, it grew so warm outside the nurses opened the windows. Spring had finally arrived.
We don’t know when Winter will release its hold. Spring seldom arrives gradually. One day it is freezing cold, then next the sun warms the earth--encouraging leaves to bud, grass to grow, and flowers to bloom, adding their beauty and fragrance.
There is something about not knowing. And yet, I am ready for green grass and yellow flowers—even if those flowers are only dandelions. I am ready for Spring. How about you?
(c) 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies
Feel free to share
I plan my life out a day at a time, so my posting schedule can be erratic.
Sign up for my newsletter and you’ll never miss a post.