Blog Bio Energy, age and learning what's important

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(c) 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

Kearney Hub Column 5/30/2022

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Blog Bio 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

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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

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Blog Bio My sister, my sibling, my friend

On September 21st, Karin turned 75. Karin’s retirement is as busy as when she worked for Senator Pat Roberts. She is actively involved with her grandchildren, her other family, and many friends. Faith, family, and friends are the most important things in her life.

Karin, born in 1946, is the oldest sibling, I followed in 1950. Our brother Paul was born four years later. As adults we visit, call, and email regularly. However, Karin and I weren’t always friends.

More often than not, we had to share a bedroom. (Our father was a minister who got called to a different church every few years.) Karin wanted a room that was tidy and always looking good. She’d stuff things in the closet or under the bed.

I like organization. If things aren’t perfectly aligned or in place, as long as long as I knew where to find everything, the rest didn’t matter. She pulled shades at least partway down on the windows, preferring a darker room. I love sunlight. I zapped the shades up. We glared at as we tugged the shade furiously up and down until, invariably, the shade broke, and we were in trouble.

Due to how and when we moved, Karin ended up in grades above her classmates. (She was fifteen when she started her high school senior year in a new school.). I preferred the outdoors. Karin was all girl—except she could smash a baseball out of the park. We fought. We argued.

I pushed Karin through a wall Dad was repairing. She kicked me off the bed during nightly devotions with Dad. Oops! We lived in Kansas when Karin left for college. For all our wrangling, I missed her.

Then my life took a turn downward. I contracted Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis and within months was in a wheelchair that I did not escape for almost ten years. Those years were difficult years for my family as my parents sought prayer, answers, and medical care.

During those years, Karin was my encourager. Paul was confused with my up-and-down moods due to pain, and frustration. Karin married after college and remained in McPherson, Kansas where she’d gone to college.

We moved to Iowa for a pastorate where I finished high school and started college. In my second year of college, our folks moved to Nebraska so I could attend a four-year college. Though I was in a wheelchair and often required assistance, I graduated.

Mom and Dad bought a house in Kearney planning to retire in this welcoming city. When Dad was called to a church in Canada, this time, Mom, Paul and I stayed in Kearney. After all, Paul and I were in college.

Unexpectedly, at Christmas, Mom died my senior year of a stroke that left Dad and Karin, Paul, and I devastated. In time, Dad married a Canadian lady and settled in International Falls, MN.

Paul and I settled in Kearney. By then, Karin, Paul, and I had become friends. We were close enough to visit now and again as we married and raised our families. Always Karin and Paul were there for me through my many surgeries to get me up and keep me up and walking.

Each of us had to deal with first Mom’s death, then dad’s death when our children were young. We walked through life's difficult circumstances lifting each other up.

Paul’s death in January 2019 of massive heart failure left a huge hole. He was our younger brother. Yes, we have our family, our kids and our wonderful grandkids, but it isn’t the same. Three became two, but with the loss, Karin and I talk more, make sure to pray for one another and each other’s families.

We are different individuals in so many ways and yet we share a heritage of memories, faith, and love. Gone are the days I fought with my sister. Instead, I give thanks each day we still have our faith, our families—and the blessing of one another.
© 2021 Carolyn R. Scheidies
Published 10/11/21 in the Kearney Hub Column

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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