Blog Bio I said “No!” to repainting the walls

Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash

As I sit at the dining table with my laptop, I look up at the walls. From here I can see parts of the kitchen, hall, and living room walls. While I have an office, I prefer working here where I can look out the window at the park and not feel closed in.

A while ago my sister was helping me decorate and said she’d be glad to repaint the walls. I shook my head, “No!” I’m not ready to change my walls. While faux painting might not be the latest fashion any longer, I love my walls. Looking at these walls brings back many positive memories.

When the walls were painted, our kids were teens and didn’t need all that much supervision. We also were headed out to a Fredrickson Family Reunion in Northern Minnesota. In fact, we took over the whole resort for the week. It was a wonderful week of food, family, boating, swimming, games, and, of course, shopping.

While we were gone, our friends made plans. Paul, the PA for my orthopedist, and Paul’s wife were both close friends. At that time, we had a circle of close friends. Since I would be coming home for surgery in the near future, which would keep me housebound for a while, our friends decided our house could use a makeover. While we were gone, they cleaned did some minor repairs, and sponge-painted the walls, and, from what they said later, had a fun time doing so. Our friends had planned to finish up and put everything back before we arrived home.

We had no idea our friends planned to do this. We also had planned to take our time coming home, breaking up the fifteen-hour drive into two days. But, once we got on the road, we didn’t want to stop. All we wanted to do was be home. We took food and other breaks, but we didn’t stop for the night.

It was late by the time we arrived home. I think our son Chris took the key and opened the front door. We followed him in. We stared at our house. Remember furniture hadn’t been put back in place as yet. In confusion, we backed out again and checked our address. Was this our house? Yes, it was. Entering again, we stared at all that had been accomplished that week. It felt like a new house.

How could we even begin to thank our friends for all they’d done for us? We couldn’t, but we could give thanks and accept the blessing they’d provided. Our friends were so excited to see our response. No, I am not ready to repaint my walls. I may have those memories stored inside my heart but seeing them every day also reminds me to give thanks for friends and their willingness to take their time and effort—and money—to redo our home.

Despite the hurts and sorrows of life, we can look up and be thankful when we take time to remember those walls in our lives and count our blessings.

Published in Kearney Hub as my column 11/08/2022

© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

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Blog Bio Dogs, fosters, adoption and love

Recently my seventeen-year-old granddaughter told me she’d been cleaning up the backyard because they planned to foster a Husky dog. She was so excited to bring home a shelter Husky named Bear. I could tell she was already loving that dog.

I can’t blame her. Several years ago, our daughter Cassie had a friend who fostered dogs. She told Cassie about a little dog foster that had been rescued from a puppy mill. The young dog had spent his life in a cage.

Cassie ended up adopting Melvin who proved to be a sweet dog without a mean bone in his body. His main anxiety was not wanting Cassie out of his sight. She had Melvin for many years, giving him special attention as he aged.

She married and Melvin adopted Kurt as part of the family and then included two children. When he died, the family grieved.

My brother pretty much always had dogs—usually larger dogs. He brought a dog into his marriage with Lorene and throughout their marriage, they adopted several dogs from the shelter. Their dogs were their kids. Finally, they decided not to get another dog.

At least, they thought they both decided that only to discover both were, on their own, checking out dogs at the shelter. That did it, they adopted another dog who needed them.

This dog was big, gentle, and huggable. He also thought he was a lapdog. When they settled in their recliners, Franee would jump into a lap and snuggle down. Paul walked the dog up to our house, but often they walked Franee at Yanney Park. They loved that dog.

Then Paul had a massive heart attack and was gone. The love she and Paul shared with a needy animal came back to sustain Lorene as she dealt with Paul’s loss. Because they were willing to adopt, she received a gift of Franee’s love that has helped her through her grief.

We usually had dogs and often cats when we grew up. Since dad was a minister, we moved every few years. Some places were more conducive to pets than others. Wyoming was a great place for pets, but we didn’t buy them. They came to us. A dog or cat who needed a home found our place. If they looked hungry, mom fed them.

Some moved on. Others stayed and became part of the family, though the restriction was that their main home was outside. (Dad built a dog house.)

One of my best memories is the day we moved to Lance Creek Wyoming. Mrs. Wilson who ran the motel for truckers just down the road had the key to the parsonage. We walked over with her. Mrs. Wilson pointed out the huge dog on the stoop.

She started explaining most were afraid of the animal, but he had refused to leave with the last pastor. Members threw food over the fence for the dog. She wasn’t sure what to do, but Paul, a toddler, before anyone could stop him, opened the gate, marched up to the dog, and hugged him.

I followed, leaving the adults stunned. Skipper had adopted us. He proved to be a wonderful dog. When he died, he left us with many good memories. I could tell many more stories of dogs who met a need for those who adopted them or whom they adopted.

Looking for a dog? Instead of paying through the nose for some fancy breed, consider a shelter pet. These dogs are so ready to give love and are often brave, smart, ready to love the individual or family who reaches out,

© 2021 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published in my Kearney Hub Column 2021 November 8
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Blog Count blessings during this holiday season

Pro Church Media@prochurchmedia

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.

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published Kearney Hub 11/30/2020
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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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