“IT TAKES A VILLAGE to raise a child,” according to an African proverb turned catchphrase by First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton in her 1996 book, It Takes a Village: And Other Lessons Children Teach Us.
While I’ve not read Clinton’s book, I understand the importance of a village, of community, in the lives of children. Kids learn, not only from their parents, teachers and each other, but also from being out and about in their communities.
They learn, and teach us adults, about care and compassion, about service and giving back, of lifting up community. In these days of innumerable challenges in America, such lessons are truly more important than ever.
I need only look within my own core family to see this. In mid-February, my two elementary-aged grandchildren helped their mom, my eldest, transport items from their Lakeville church to a food shelf in nearby Farmington. The kids sorted donated items. And my first grade grandson wrote about the experience for a school assignment complete with illustrations. “I helped at church (beacus (sic) of ICE),” Isaac wrote.
He knew. His mom has been working tirelessly soliciting cash donations, buying and delivering groceries to a south metro food shelf, and sorting and bagging donations during and after Operation Metro Surge. Not only has she assisted those sheltering in their homes, but she has also taught her children an important lesson in helping others.
Kids are never too young to learn about generosity, about loving their neighbors. About giving of themselves in service to community.
That brings me to Shattuck-St. Mary’s, a private college prep school in Faribault. While heading to walk at the Shattuck dome on a recent morning, I noticed several cardboard collection boxes in the public gathering space/hallway of the athletic complex. I stopped to investigate.
While the boxes were empty, I read about their purpose. Students, calling themselves “Sabre Storm,” “The Breakfast Club” and “Team Cheese,” are collecting non-perishable food and household and personal care items for the Faribault Community Action Center.
Most needed are: dry beans, canned soups, ramen noodles, canned chicken/tuna, size 7 diapers and pull-ups. I expect those attending hockey and soccer games, and other activities inside the sports complex will drop donations into the collection boxes.
I love that students like Jorge, Lara, Max, Miranda, Yujin, Rhys, Gael and 38 others, who signed the boxes, are connecting with the Faribault community via this drive. There’s not only a “heightened need” for food, household and personal care items at the Community Action Center, but also for cash donations.
I read that on the CAC website. But I’ve also heard this from a friend who volunteers at the CAC. The increased need all circles back to my grandson’s words, “beacus (sic) of ICE.” Many people in Faribault were sheltering in place, unable to work, during the height of federal immigration enforcement. And just because that operation has scaled back, the crisis has not ended.
The CAC has established a Community Response Fund “to meet urgent and evolving community needs” for food, rental assistance, etc. Every donation helps, my friend says. Even $10.
It takes a village. It takes a village to raise children. And it takes a village to help our neighbors through a crisis, a crisis created by the federal government. A crisis that has left too many Minnesota families facing overwhelming financial challenges, trauma, personal struggles and an uncertain future.
FYI: Please consider making a financial gift to the Faribault Community Action Center Community Response Fund. Click here to learn more. To those of you who have already donated, thank you. I appreciate your generosity during these challenging times in my community. It takes a village.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Courageous crocuses April 9, 2026
Tags: blossoms, cold, commentary, crocus, crocuses, flowers, Minnesota, nature, seasons, spring, spring flowers, winter
EACH SPRING THEY EMERGE, poking through a layer of dried leaves mulching my front flowerbed.
When I spot the tender green shoots of crocuses, I feel a surge of optimism that winter is winding down. However, as a life-long Minnesotan, I also tamp my excitement. Snow falls in April here and sometimes in May. And these crocuses were bursting already in late March.
Days after I removed the leaves, exposing the crocuses to sunshine and air, they grew quickly. Soon purple blossoms spread wide, revealing golden centers like spots of sunshine.
I delight in the shades of purple, notice the lines tracing the petals, the way the flowers hug the ground as if also tentative about the season.
This first flower of spring seems to me courageous. Braving the cold of Minnesota, determined to reach the sunshine, to make a strong statement of hope that the cold and dark of winter will give way to warmth and light.
TELL ME: I’d like to hear your first flower of spring story.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling