Just a standard question and Willmar remodeling

   Been helping Tyson in Willmar on his house, as they're wanting to get it ready to sell and make it more marketable. Lots of demolition was going on in the last few days.  He tore out all the paneling in the living room, and gutted the bathroom down to the 2x4's.  I've been just putzing. Maybe not a whole lot of help, but doing little things that are tedious, like running errands, sanding, sweeping up the demo mess, pulling nails left from the paneling.  Pulling nails was a huge job, I can't believe how many nails can be used to hang paneling.  There was one nail in particular, I felt more than others, the one I pulled out of my foot  on Monday night,  as we were mudding holes created by the nails in the panelling, when I went for some more mud, and stepped on a nail that was pointing upwards in the upside down piece of paneling laying on the floor.  I let out a yell, but it really wasn't bad.  Pulled off my shoe, and it was only bleeding a little bit, hardly enough to make a blood stain on my sock, but then again, my sock was so thin and old, I don't think it would hold the blood.  Tyson insisted I ask Laure, whom I'm staying with, for some kind of antiseptic and clean it out when I got to their home.  Which I did, no biggie.  

    On Tuesday night I was talking with my sister-in-law, Georgia, who's a nurse, and she strongly suggested I go and get a tetanus shot, since that last one I had was in 1989 right before I went overseas.  

   So this morning I asked Jack (Laure's husband) where I should go, if there was a walk in clinic any where, where I could just get a tetanus shot, I didn't need to see a doctor. He told me where to go, and I went to their Urgent Care Clinic, and waited in line for paper work.  I had to go into the business office to sign in as a new patient.  She was going through the standard questions, of address, phone number, etc, and then she got to the question that stopped me. "Are you married?" I just stared at her, and paused for a few seconds and then said, "I guess I have to say I'm a widow."  She went on like it was no big deal, for me, I almost started crying.  I haven't had to use that word yet, and oh how I hate it.  It's just another of all those firsts I've been having to go through.

 The first time, having to jump my car by myself. Hey, don't laugh, I've seen it done a thousand times, but never have had to do it, that I can remember.

  The first time staying in a hotel all by myself.

  The first time having to eat by myself in a restaurant.

  The first time sitting in a service and the preacher starts preaching on marriage, and suddenly you realize, that no matter how good it is, I can't apply it to my life.

   The first time…

I think you get what I'm talking about. My world turned upside down, and I have to adjust and go on.  I'm not the first one who's had to, but that doesn't make it any easier.  This is my road, and I have to walk it out.  

   God has been so good, right beside me, and no, I'm not depressed and angry at God or Todd, or anything else.  I'm just adjusting.  I've had to walk "through the valley of the shadow of death," but I'm not setting up camp there. I'm going through and onward.   

   A preacher friend of mine, told me, "Kelley, it's a new day, it's a new day, it's not like before, it's a new day for you."  I said, "Yes, I receive that!"  It is a new day, and there's new things, but sometimes the changes shakes me a little bit.  

   I guess, maybe that word widow, reminds me of a spider or something.  But even in the new things, I'll find God's grace to live out those new changes and titles.

   And by the way, the shot has made my arm hurt more, than the nail that went up my foot.  Go figure.

   Remodeling report (Wed. night)

   As in all remodeling projects, things take longer, and cost way more than anticipated.  Tyson was finally able to get a plumber this morning, who said he could start working tomorrow (Thurs), this evening while we were eating some supper, Ty got a call from the plumber, that he had had a slight heart attack today, and was in the hospital in St Cloud. But he assured Tyson he'd send one of his assistants over tomorrow. 

   Tonight, I learned how to do knock down texture.  Tyson ran the texture sprayer thing (I'm so technical) and I was going behind him, knocking it down. (He slung mud, I knock it down! :-) It took a little getting use to, but I was finally getting the hang of it. Doing it on walls built in the 1940's, and not very even gave me even more of a challenge. I learned what "crumb and valley" mean in the dry wall world.  What an education for me.  (Todd and I textured one time in our house in Kenmare, after that, he said never again. Oh, we did texture our ceiling in our trailer home while we worked at Smith's, but I think someone came and helped us do it. )   I can't wait to see it all painted, it will look so much better.

 

 The paneling that I stepped on with that pointy nail.  It got hauled to the dump the next day.

 This was what we found when Ty was gutting the bathroom wall.  The newspapers that are crumbled dated back to the early 50's.  Crazy.

 The beginning of the bathroom demolition.  Everything had to go, black mold was awful under the window.  Tyson is going to put in a walk in tiled shower. It's going to be beautiful.

Sanding all those mudded nail holes. What a dusty job. Both of us looked a little white haired. Hee hee.

Chapter from The Adventures of Todd and Kelley

Years ago, we toured Laura Ingalls Wilders home in Missouri, and the tour guide showed us a little room, with a desk and chaise longue chair that was right next to their bedroom.  I guess, Laura would often wake up in the middle of the night, and remember a story or event, and she would get up and write in her Big Chief notebook with her pencil her wonderful stories, then go back to sleep in the chaise chair so she wouldn't awake her husband.

   I can't compare my writing or my stories to the level of Laura's but I am relating to the middle of the night thing.  I awoke at 3 am this morning, and thought of this story.  So I sat up in bed, grabbed my iPad, and started writing, what may or may not end up in my book "The Adventures of Todd and Kelley."  So for as good as 3 am writing gets, here's what I came up with.

Oh That Name!

(a chapter from the Adventures of Todd and Kelley)

    It was sometime shortly after we were engaged, Todd was at his one and only NDRA rodeo he did that summer, that I began to see that this last name could cause some interesting situations.  

   We were at the big city of Wing, ND and Todd was backed into the box ready to rope his calf.  I was sitting in the rickety bleachers, waiting and watching.  The announcer called up, "Next up is Todd Roo-er, is that how it's pronounced?"  

    Todd with his piggin' string in his mouth, some how managed to yell up to the crows nest above him, "Rye-er". I was sitting there talking aloud to myself, "Is it Rye-er, or is it Roy-er, or Roo-er? Oh, dear, I'm marrying this guy and I'm not sure which way that name his name is pronounced."  I suddenly had a brain freeze.

  Finally the announcer said, "Oh, I think that's Rye-er folks."  

  I found out at that moment, getting people to pronounce Reuer (Rye-er) correctly was going to be a challenge for the rest of my life.  I mean with a name like Shaw, rarely does one question the pronunciation of the name, but Reuer, throws people for a loop all the time. One thing I should  say about having the name Shaw in North Dakota is, people often think it should be Schaff,  North Dakota is mostly German and Norwegian, so having a Scottish/English name throws some people.   I teasingly tried to convince Todd before we were married, that maybe we should take my last name, cause it was so much easier, but he didn't go for that, and truly I wouldn't have either, and if we had done that,  just think of all the stories I would have missed, if we would have taken the Shaw name.  

    Some where around that time after that rodeo, I started a little jingle about his last name, "Rye-er, Roo-er, Rever, Retriever."  Ok, silly I know, I just like alliterations.

    Later, after we were married, and Todd was in a car accident, the paper wrote up the article that Todd Revere, (although not related to the famous Paul Revere), had hit the good Samaritan. That was one time I was glad they misspelled our name!  

     Our name has often been listed as Rever.  I guess people think there just can't be three vowels in a row,  typically not in English, but Reuer is German, so...

     One section of Todd's family pronounces it "Roy-yer" with more of an "oi" sound. This is the more German pronunciation. Although I don't mind that pronunciation, Todd told me his name was pronounced "Rye-er" that's what he said when I stood at the altar and I took his last name, so I'm stickin' with what he told me.

     The mispronunciation of our last name, really kicked in as the kids got older, and started rodeoing and doing sports.  One memorable time was Tyson's first regional rodeo in Buffalo, SD.  He was team roping at that time with Courtney Bickel, she headed, and Tyson heeled.  They came out for their first go-around, and the announcer slaughtered our last name.  Tyson said he was getting use to if he heard Tyson and anything that sounded like it started with an "R" he would figure he was up next, and would just go. (There was another Tyson who rodeoed in the same region at that time.)

    After that days rodeo, I was walking with Tyson back to the sale barn where we were stabling his horse, and ran into the man that was the rodeo announcer.   He asked, how do we pronounce it.  I told him, what by then had become my standard little jingle to help people remember, "It's Rye-er that rhymes with fire, not Roo-er that rhymes with sewer."  The man chuckled and said he'd remember it now.

    The next day as Tyson and Courtney came out to rope, the announcer began a little sing song saying "It's Tyson Reuer rhymes with fire, Courtney Bickel, rhymes with pickle."  About that time, I think I saw a little thought cloud appear over Tyson's head that was saying, "I'm gonna kill you mom!"  Yes, parents are put on the earth to some how always embarrass their kids, but hey, after that, at least with that rodeo announcer, he always pronounced it correctly. 

     Todd told me when he was a little kid, he hated his last name, cause no one could ever get it right, then someone pointed it out to him, that hey, you can spell it backwards.  Yup, it's a palindrome, same forwards as it is backwards.  After that Todd said he felt his name was really special.  Spelling it is cool, pronouncing it is a challenge.

      Philip ran into the same challenge wherever he went with football, basketball and track.  It became a game with us, as we waited to hear his name in the staring line up, wondering how it was gonna be pronounced this time, often changing several times during the game, as the announcer struggled to figure it out.  Eventually where ever we lived, at least the hometown announcer got it right, away games was another story.   About the only place that ever got it right, the first time, in an away game, was in Chamberlain, SD.  But then again, there's another group of Reuer's that live in that area, and yes, they're distantly related.

     So between people never spelling my first name right, it's Kelley with that extra 'e', and no one ever pronouncing my last name right, having my name right has been a constant problem my whole life.  I guess, sometimes I've wondered, why I make a big deal about it, I'm not totally sure, except it's part of who I am.  My name defines me, it identifies me from everyone else. This reminds me of a scripture in John 3:1.

  "There was a man named Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader who was a Pharisee. (John 3:1 NLT)"

I was reading that one day, and what jumped out at me was the phrase, "There was a man named..."  I think there are some important things to notice here. 

#1. This is stating there really was a man, this not a made up story. 

#2. There was a reason to know that man's name. 

#3. His name had meaning, it meant Conqueror.

#4. His name is listed (at least in this translation) before what he did for a living.

I don't know if there's really any spiritual connotation to that, but I want it said of me some day. "There was a woman named Kelley, …"  That my life would count, that my life would have a significant part in my world today.  Maybe not on the secular or worldly end, that the news media would know, but on God's end, in his writings and records, that it would be said, "There was a woman named Kelley…"  I want my life to count.  I want it to count with my family, with my friends, with my neighborhood, and city.  My world of influence. The whole world may never hear of me and I really don't care about that, but with those God has entrusted to me, I want it to count.

Another thought I had was, it says "There was a man named Nicodemus.." The word "named."  He had a name, he wasn't anonymous, he wan't unnamed, he had a name.  Nicodemus means conqueror, just like Kelley means warrior.  Every time someone said Nicodemus' name they were saying "He's a conqueror"  Every time someone says Kelley, they're saying "She's a Warrior." That use to really bother me, cause I felt like my whole life, I was fighting something, then I realized that I can be a victorious warrior for The Lord, but please remember to  spell it with the extra 'e'.  I can so relate with Anne of Green of Gables, when Marilla asked her what difference it makes how Anne is spelled and Anne says, "Print out A-n-n, and it looks absolutely dreadful, but Anne with an 'e' is quite distinguished." I'm not sure K-e-l-l-e-y is distinguished, but it does feel symmetrical to me, and also remember Reuer rhymes with fire.

       

Losing by Inches. Kristi's Blog

Last week some time, Kristi and I were having a good heart to heart talk about Todd.  How it effects us both.  Kristi made the comment that we lost him by inches.  She said she had been meaning to write her thoughts down about this but hadn't done so yet.  So I asked her if she did write it down, could I share it on the blog.  The next morning, I awoke and wrote the poem at the end of this blog, after pondering on her comment.
    We spent Sunday and Monday in Dickinson at the Northern Plains Believers Rally at Break Forth Bible Church.  I just felt we both needed to, as I put it, "Be under the spout where the glory comes out."  In other words, go sit under God's Word for a time, and be refreshed and encouraged.  It's been a long hard battle, and both of us are a little battle weary.    The Rally has been wonderful, and we both have been encouraged by The Lord.
   On our way home late Monday night, Kristi pulled out the laptop while I was driving, and wrote the following about her Dad.

Losing by Inches

 by Kristi Reuer

It is extremely hard to lose your dad to death. It is equally hard or even harder to watch him slip away from you day by day. I watched my dad lose a bit of himself every day for years. It didn’t always come in big ways like when we found him trying to drive on the interstate the wrong way, which forced us to realize that it was no longer safe for him to drive on major roads. It sometimes came in little ways. Like him forgetting what he was trying to say. Something we have all done but that he did constantly for years. It came subtly, like one day having to remind him to put food on his plate and the next having to dish it up for him. It came sporadically, like him seemingly fine one day and really confused the next and then back to sort of fine.

For many years after my dad’s horse accident he was mostly fine. And then somewhere along the line he started slipping away. It was practically unnoticeable at first. Just him being a little more forgetful and having more trouble talking. Just an inch of him slipping away here and there.And then somewhere along the line I started noticing it more and more. Those little inches that he had lost were accumulating and the process wasn’t slowing down it was speeding up. Towards the end it was more like we were losing him by feet and yards then little inches, as he became less and less able to function normally, or function at all those last few weeks in the nursing home.

So while yes, it was very hard to lose my dad on December 22, at that point there wasn’t much left for me to lose. Oh, don’t get me wrong it hurt like crazy to know I would never see my dad again on this earth. But he hadn’t really been my dad for a while. Again don’t get me wrong I loved my dad very much and still do but the normal father-daughter relationship didn’t exist between us anymore. And frankly it was  far better for him to go be with Jesus then for him to languish in a mind and body that wouldn’t let him do anything anymore. So while I miss my dad, I rejoice that he is finally whole once more. It wasn’t the healing we wanted but it was healing never the less.

Here is the Poem I wrote along the same theme:

Loosing Him by Measures

it's been a month since you moved on

to that heavenly home

your body still, an empty shell

we laid to rest here on the earth.

but you've been gone 

much longer still, the man we really knew

for inch by inch you left us here

your mind kept leaving you.

other people said, he's not that bad

he looks so healthy and strong

but they did not see what we saw at home

your struggle daily going down hill.

at first it was hard to see 

the changes all so small

but inch by inch it took its toll

till life became so hard.

over time it became not inches lost

but now by foot by foot.

the changes became evident 

from those who would on look.

in this last and trying year

the changes were so quick

not inch or foot, but yard by yard

daily the demenita took

each day we saw less of you 

the man we really knew

till on that day all was left

a body an empty shell.

but now you're whole in heaven above

life is ere' so sweet

Jesus knelt down and healed your soul

by the river of life so sweet.

our hearts are empty cause you've left us here

but with you we do rejoice

to know that you are whole

the measure of man complete.

The Names He Would Call Me

   

(This is not a photo I took, although I have taken some of a gumbolily, I just couldn't find them. I think a few of my photos were pre digital days.)

  Todd had a few nick names for me, when we first were dating, he called me "Angel" now before you think it was because of my angelic personality, cough, cough, let me explain.  In the late 70's, early 80's there was a TV show called Charlie's Angels.  I think it was some kind of detective or cop show, I really don't remember. I'm not sure I ever even watched it, but I do know this Charlie had three girls that worked with him and they had long hair.  So Todd would call me his "Angel" and sent me off on 'secret missions' or something.  I really don't remember the whole inside joke we had about it, but it had more to do with my long hair than my angelic personality.  I even made him a tee shirt, when I worked at The Shirt Shack that said, "Cowboy, I love you, Angel."  Somehow after we married, he quit calling me Angel, I have always wondered why. 

   Years later, he started calling me "31." It's kind of a cowboy thing sort of.  You see all the cows were tagged with numbers, and he gave me "31" after the woman in Proverbs 31.  She's the virtuous woman.  I'm not sure I have ever gotten as high as her accolades, but I've tried to follow her example.

    He teased me that I was his "Handy Man," when he came in the house one day, and I had laid new flooring in our laundry room all by myself.  I had also received in the mail that day, an invitation to join the "Handy Man Club of America" of course addressed to Mr Kelley Reuer.  I was ticked that they thought I was a man, and Todd thought it was hilarious. Although Todd could hammer way better than me, which had to do with him being ambidextrous, in most other things I really was the better handy man, and so I really did do most of the minor repairs, and all of the remodeling around the house. 

     There was the KellBell, and Kelley Bell, that is common nickname within my family.  He never called me by my nick name, George, that I grew up with, because of his sister Georgia, who we of course call George.  I was called George as a kid, cause  people would ask my Mom what her cute (I added the cute part) little girl's name was, to which she'd say "George."  I would get upset, and say, no my name is "Kelley."  Somehow later, the nick name stuck, and I was called George anyway.

      But I guess my favorite nickname was when he called me his Gumbolily. Most people, unless you're from westriver in South Dakota, don't have a clue as to what a gumbolily is. Ok, I guess I say that cause, I didn't have a clue as to what it was until I lived westriver. It's a flower, that grows in the worst of the worst soil, the hardpan gumbo. Nothing else will grow in it, but a gumbolily will.  They're a short flower, leaves looking somewhat like a lilly but with a flower that looks like a prairie rose, and actually smells like a fragrant rose.  They're usually white, but will turn pink or lavendar as they mature. All in all they're a beautiful flower.  I tried once to replant one in some good soil in my flower bed, it didn't work. Unless you take  a lot of the hardpan soil with it, it will not grow in good soil.  I did have a friend that was sucessful in transplanting one, so it is possible, but I never was able to accomplish that task.

    I remember one time, Todd coming in the house, and he was so excited, he said I had to come with him, he had to show me something.  I kept asking him, "What, what is it?" but he just said, "Just come, I'll show you."  We got down to the dam below the barn, and there in the hardpan soil, was several gumbolily's blooming. They were so beautiful.  The smell was heavenly.  I was so glad I followed Todd down to the dam, even though I was always terrified I'd see a rattler when walking through the pasture.

    To me it was one of the highest compliments and dearest names he called me.  Gumbolily.  In calling me that he was saying he had confidence that I could bloom and blossom in the worst of conditions.  He was saying to me, you're beautiful, and sweet and gonna make it through this tough time.  I believe he's still cheering me on from heaven, saying "Come on my Gumbolily, you can bloom, you can blossom, you can release the sweet fragrance of Jesus in this hard, hard place you're in."  

    Through God's grace I will, I'll continue to be that Gumbolily.  It's just taking a lot of God's grace to do it now.  But that's good, cause grace is God's influence in my life, and right now I'll take ever bit of His influence in my life, to help me bloom in this hardpan soil.  I pray I can stay worthy of the name Gumbolily, so dearly given to me by my Cowboy Todd.