Ladies’ weekend and a surprise

On the first weekend of December, my sister Karin, her daughter (and my niece), as well as my daughter Cassie all came to Kearney. They rented an Airbnb for the weekend that became the hangout, not only for them, but also for my sister-in-law Lorene and for me.

Of course, we also included Keith in evening meals. Friday night found Alley Rose very sensitive to my food allergies, which the ladies all made sure were handled. They are very protective. Outside the weather was cold and windy, but inside the food was good as was the fellowship of family with laughter and catching up conversations. (There was even a dessert I could eat without worrying about a reaction.)

Saturday morning Keith dropped me off at the rental. Lorene arrived shortly afterward. Kelly made a breakfast casserole we shared with chatter, gentle teasing, plans and laughter. Kept talking as we moved to the living room area of their beautiful rental. It was good to be together. Family yes, but friends as well.

Later that morning niece Kelly said she had a little something for Lorene, Karin, and me for Christmas. What! Didn’t know we planned for gifts. True. The weekend was also for us to exchange Christmas gifts, but those were for our families. We do get together to exchange our packages, usually in York since Karin, her kids and their families live in Kansas. Meeting is more fun and not as much hassle as shipping all the gifts.

But those packages aren’t opened until Christmas when we each celebrate with our families. Kelly left the room and returned with three bags, one each for Karin, Lorene, and me. I was surprised and I could tell Karin had no clue as to what this might be.

We opened our bags to discover gorgeous quilts. Kelly had made us each a special quilt. What brought us to tears was what the quilts represented. Kelly had taken shirts my brother Paul wore and turned them into memorial quilts.

We exclaimed as we pointed out different shirts. “I remember that one!” What an amazing and thoughtful gift. I could see his wife Lorene wrapping herself in her quilt remembering Paul. Karin had no idea Kelly had been making those quilts.

Paul died of massive heart failure January 8, 2019. Somehow it suddenly didn’t seem that long ago. Now we have memorial blankets to remember him. There really were no words, though we tried. Yet, love doesn’t need words. Actions said it all. Lorene, Karin, and I hugged first Kelly then our blankets while Kelly and Cassie took pictures to preserve our new and precious memories of the weekend.

Lorene also passed out wonderful calendars as we considered getting together next year for another weekend together. In the evening, Keith joined us for pizza and games. A fitting end to a special weekend of love and laughter. Something to remember and celebrate in the coming year—the spirit of reaching out in love.

© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

Published in Hub column 12/27/2022

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Blog Bio Air Conditioning and Gratitude

Photo by Raychan on Unsplash

I didn’t grow up with air conditioning. When we lived in Siren, Wisconsin when I was 5-7 years old, the humidity was almost unbearable during the summer months. Wisconsin has lakes dotted all over. Some lakes were good for fishing, some for swimming and some were little more than swamps—and dangerous at that.

Back in the late fifties, we didn’t even think about air conditioning. When we wanted to cool off we headed to one of the lakes that bracketed our small town. There were no lifeguards and parents didn’t always go with their kids. In fact, we younger children often went with our older siblings.

Eastern Wyoming didn’t have an abundance of lakes or rivers. Many creek beds remained dry except during Spring run-off. Humidity wasn’t a problem. But temperatures often climbed over the 100% mark. Still, without moisture, the temperatures didn’t feel near as hot as much lower temperatures felt in Wisconsin.

The nearest swimming pool was 30 miles away in Lusk. Our folks took us to swim a few times during the summer. Where we lived water was not abundant, so we didn’t just turn on the hose to cool off. Best stay in the shade instead.

Every place I lived as a child was a bit different, but air conditioning was never part of the equation, though, eventually, fans were. Oh, how nice the air felt from those fans.

Even after Keith and I married and my brother built a house suited for my limitations, we had no air conditioning. Paul set the house up for it, but we couldn’t afford it at the time. Instead, during the summer months, we opened windows. It helped some and I liked hearing the birds and the sounds of summer. Nights, however, were muggy and I found it difficult to rest.

We didn’t get AC until our daughter was 13 and had some health issues that led us to install air conditioning. Though we had to close our windows, the cool air felt so good on those steaming hot August days. We don’t turn our AC on in the spring until we’re sure the Winter chill has permanently warmed. (We turned on the AC this year only to have to revert to heat again before the Spring warmth actually stayed.)

With AC my clothes aren’t wringing wet by the end of the day. I don’t have to find the lightest thing possible to wear. If I sit close to our large front picture window, I can still see the trees and flowers and hear the birds from across the street at Collins Park. I know what it is not to have AC and as I sit in my cool home,

I think about those who invented, marketed, and installed the units—and I give thanks. I’ve learned that giving thanks lifts up far better and elevates my emotions much more than finding fault and complaining.

Giving thanks for everyday and small things is a good way to get into a habit of looking for the positive instead getting bogged down in negativity. Besides, I am really thankful for air conditioning, aren’t you?

(c) 2022 By Carolyn R Scheidies

Kearney Hub column published 2022 August 23

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Blog Bio Mail, Weather and Just in Time

The day was overcast. I’m not a big fan of dark days. Gloomy days make me feel gloomy, too. On gloomy days, indoor lights aren’t enough to dispel the dark mood. I Like to turn on battery-powered lanterns we keep for nighttime or traveling. They help somewhat.

This was one of those dismal, dreary days. The sky threatened more than gloom. Wind got into the act. Didn’t feel or look much like a Spring day, more like the broodings of Winter. Late afternoon still hadn’t produced more than depressing gloom.

Keith headed out for the mail. He felt a few drops of rain. After retrieving the mail, he hurried back. As though taking a deep breath, the weather held back for a moment. The moment, he closed the door behind him, the sky let loose, howling and growling as though angry its prey escaped.

Rain poured from the clouds hard and fast. Ice hit. Hail slammed against the roof and siding making us wonder if we’d needed to have the roof checked when the storm cleared. The fury lasted for quite a while and even the next day rain, cold and wind lingered.

But it didn’t matter. We were safe in the house my brother Paul built for me, with my limitations in mind. Even more, God held off the storm until Keith was safely inside. How can I not be thankful? Thankful, and looking forward to the next sunny day.

© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

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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 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