
THE GENEROSITY OF MY COMMUNITY is never more publicly visible than each December, when artificial Christmas trees are decorated, displayed and then donated to those in need.

This past weekend I toured the trees rimming the ice skating rink at Faribault’s new community gathering spot, Viaduct Park. That park centered recent Winterfest activities.

As I slowly walked along the sidewalk looking at the festive trees, I thought of those who gave and those who will receive. Businesses, organizations, nonprofits, churches and more participate in the Adopt-a-Tree project with 77 trees gifted this year.

The program was started by the Faribault Parks & Recreation Department in 2020 to bring a little holiday cheer to the community during the COVID-19 pandemic. Each December since, those numbers have steadily grown from 20 trees that first year to nearly 80 today. That’s a whole lot of families receiving Christmas trees. Families that might otherwise go without a tree because of the cost of buying one.

Now, more than ever, with the price of groceries and other necessities rising, the need seems especially great. We’re all feeling the pinch in our pocketbooks. But, if you’re living on an especially tight budget, the reality is that maybe you can’t afford a tree or gifts. And that’s where my community, like so many others across Minnesota and the country, steps up and gives from the heart.

When I think back to my own childhood, I realize my parents likely scrimped and saved to buy Christmas presents for me and my five siblings. We maybe got two gifts each. And we were ecstatic to receive those.

Our Christmas tree was so small that it sat on the end of our Formica kitchen table. To this day, I look for a Charlie Brown tree because of the fond childhood memories associated with a less-than-perfect tiny tree.
I hope the children in my community whose families receive Adopt-a-Tree trees will feel the same Christmas joy. I hope they feel the love of those who care about them, who want them to have a Christmas tree in their homes. Likewise, if they receive gifts through many of the giving programs in Faribault, I hope they feel loved.

Perhaps some day, they, too, will give back, reflecting on those hard times when others uplifted them during the holidays. My husband and his sibling were on the receiving end of such giving during their childhood. Today Randy and I are part of a bible study group at Trinity Lutheran Church that facilitates a Christmas Angel Program. We’ll gather soon to wrap all those donated gifts.

Kindness. Compassion. Care. All shine bright in Faribault from those donated Christmas trees to every single gift purchased for someone in need. Both reflect the spirit of the season. And that is a spirit of love and of generosity.

FYI: If you want to see the Adopt-a-Tree trees, look soon. They are coming down early this week. Thank you to all who participated in this project.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
























































Resilience in a song December 5, 2025
Tags: Abbie Betinis, Christmas concert, commentary, Faribault, Faribault High School Choir, holiday concert, Minnesota, music, resilience, Somali Americans, strength, The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour
AS THEY SANG, I felt my spirits rise, moved by the rhythm of “Resilience” and its empowering lyrics.
This upbeat music, these words, were exactly what I needed to hear Thursday afternoon inside the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour as the Faribault High School Choir performed a holiday concert.
Resilience, we are strong; shoulder to shoulder keep movin’ on…stand up…yes, we can…
The beat of that song composed by Minnesotan Abbie Betinis and the message it carries…,well, it fit the day. It was a day when I awakened to a vivid nightmare running rampant through my mind. A dream of ICE agents in a black sedan converging on a community and chasing people out of a building. Gathering them, taking them away and me photographing and screaming at ICE to show some compassion and humanity.
I needed to hear “Resilience,” written by a musician who has taught at nearby St. Olaf College and elsewhere and published the Justice Choir Songbook.
As I watched and listened to the teens perform inside the historic Cathedral, I thought of the Native Americans who long ago worshiped here, befriended by Bishop Henry Whipple. They were not always welcome in this community. But inside the walls of this massive cathedral, they found a place of acceptance.
And then I thought of those young people standing before me, strong in voice, delivering a message that didn’t sound at all like a Christmas song on the surface. But really, it was. Shoulder to shoulder keep movin’ on… The song felt joyful. Uplifting. Moving. Inspirational.
In a selection of songs about light, a Norwegian dala horse, decking the halls, a silent night and more, “Resilience” stood out. I suggested to the students afterwards that they should stand downtown along Central Avenue and sing of strength, resilience and standing shoulder to shoulder. I told them how much they had uplifted me, how much I appreciated and needed to hear that song. And one young man said he was glad he brought me joy via their music.
After those conversations over lemonade and sweet treats, I headed home via Central Avenue. Between stops at a gaming store and a used bookshop, I popped into a corner business run by Somali Americans. Inspired by those high school musicians and deeply troubled by the hateful words directed by our president toward Somalis in Minnesota, I walked into the shop packed with colorful merchandise. “I just want to tell you how happy I am that you are here, that you are in our community,” I said. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happening.” My emotions rose. My voice cracked. Tears edged my eyes.
Then the Somali American man reached out and hugged me. He thanked me, told me it was OK, as did a woman sitting nearby. It was not my intention to cry. But everything just bubbled out. The worry. The concern. The injustice. The sorrow I feel over these Minnesotans being singled out and attacked, told they are “garbage” and are not wanted in this country. They who either fled a war-torn country or were born here and are working hard, like the two Somalis I met, to make a living and home in America.
I left that shop feeling the strength of my neighbors. Resilience, we are strong; shoulder to shoulder keep movin’ on…stand up…yes, we can…
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling