Blog Bio Cowboys, Horse, a different Dream

My dad often said as soon as I began to crawl, I’d head toward the nearest horse. When my folks went to the hospital to have my younger brother, I got to stay with a farm family who had a horse. At four years old, I thought I’d gone to heaven when they allowed me to ride. God was good.

In Clitheral Minnesota, we didn’t have a TV set, but I walked across the street to a friend’s house to watch westerns such as Roy Rogers and the Lone Ranger. I even had Roy Rogers paper dolls. (Not for me sissy girl paper dolls.) In Wisconsin, I had a longer walk to watch TV. I prayed for a horse of my own.

When Dad told us he’d taken a church in Wyoming, my older sister groaned. I couldn’t wait to go. The parsonage was across the street from the home of a friend who had his own horse, Rocket. Both Karin and I got to ride the paint horse with our friend. Rocket was a gentle ride unless you tried to force him into a trot when riding double. Then you’d find yourself on the ground—often on one of the many cactus patches. We still did it. (Kids don’t always do the smartest things.) Riding Rocket gave me experience.

Finally, when we moved to a country church in Northwest Kansas, I was able to get a retired show mare through the 4-H program. I took care of the horse. I rode the horse. The deal was that after breeding the chestnut mare, the resulting foal was mine to keep. Finally, in 7th grade, my dream came true. I had my own horse. God was indeed good.

Unfortunately, at about the same time I contracted Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. I spent the next ten years in a wheelchair rather than on a horse. However, having the horse, and having to plan how to train my foal, kept me motivated to live instead of quitting when I could see no future but pain and limitations. My thought went more to a question. “What are you thinking God?”

Eventually, we no longer lived where I could keep my horse. I agreed to sell my horse as a polo pony out East. I kept my horse interest by reading books—fiction and non-fiction with and about horses. I followed the Triple Crown. Secretariat’s story helped me as I dealt with massive reconstructive surgery and to finally walk again. If Secretariat could become a victor maybe I could as well.

When I began to write and sell books, many historical in nature, I could write with authenticity about horses. Though I really never rode horses after I got sick, my love motivated me, helped me through rough times, and assisted in my chosen career. I may not have become a jockey or a horsemaster, but I learned and grew and walked again, at least partly, because of my obsession with horses. I can’t help but smile. Guess God did know what He was doing after all. God is indeed good.

© 2023 Carolyn R Scheidies

Hub column published 2/22/2023

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Blog Bio We All Need Crutches of One Kind or Another

Because of my limitations, I can’t reach all that far. Only one hand extends to my face. Even leaning over, I can’t extend my reach past my knees. I can’t pick things up from the floor. Can’t reach things too high or even a couple of feet away. I have trouble with grasping and dexterity.

That translates to often dropping things large and small. In order to be able to retrieve things I drop or that are out of reach, I add loops to everything from clothes to electronics. If I drop something the added loop ensures I am able to pick it up.

The loops are only part of the equation. I use different varieties of utility sticks with hooks to pick up those things out of my reach. I have three-foot hooks and hooks half that size. I carry expandable hooks in my purse and on my person. I have some sort of hook or squeezable tong in almost every room.

The first hook was created for me at a rehab center when I was still a teen. The center was helping me become more independent. Things they taught forged my imagination in other ways to foster my independence. I could be angry I need such assistance, but that would not help me live my best life. I could refuse to use help such as a wheelchair or crutches when required after one surgery or another, but I’d never recover what mobility I could have.

Some mock Christians with the claim that Christianity is a crutch. Most Christians cringe at the very thought. I don’t. Do you know why? If we’re Christians it’s because we realize we do need help. We can’t do life on our own without messing up. Jesus came to offer life, guidance, and help.

I can’t live my life to the fullest without assistance. My utility hooks are crutches and my crutches, when I need them, are very real crutches. So what if we need Jesus? I do. But He is so much more than a crutch. He is my Savior, my friend, my confidence, and my hope.

Everyone needs some sort of crutch in life and Jesus in my life brings a peace and joy that no amount of wealth, power, sex, drugs or alcohol—all crutches—can provide. If I’m going to need a crutch, I choose Jesus. How about you?

© 2022 Carolyn R Scheidies

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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 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 

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.

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published in Kearney Hub 5/18/2020
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