Adopt-a-Tree Christmas trees curve along the sidewalk past the ice rink at Faribault’s Viaduct Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
Looking through the Christmas trees to the ice rink and the Viaduct Park community gathering space in the background. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
A local 4-H club is among those decorating and donating a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
These women take their time looking at the 77 trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
A skater skates on the other side of the trees edging the rink. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
So many fun Christmas tree toppers, including this snowman. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
Skaters skate next to the trees and the Viaduct Park gathering space, which is open for warming up and to buy concessions from 3-5 pm weekdays and from 1-6 pm weekends. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
A festive holiday ribbon circles a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
Operation: 23 to 0, which works toward suicide prevention, participated in Adopt-a-Tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
Generosity shines like the star topping one of the Christmas trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
I viewed the trees during daylight, under overcast skies. I’d encourage night viewing also to see the lights. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
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.
Jesus multiplied two fish into enough to feed 5,000 people. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
“THE SMALL LITTLE LUNCH became more than enough.” That statement, made during the Rev. Bruce Stam’s sermon at Trinity Lutheran Church in Faribault on Sunday morning, really resonates with me in this week of thanksgiving.
Stam was referencing the feeding of the five thousand as recorded in all four gospels and specifically in John 6:1-13. In that story, Jesus and his disciples are faced with a hungry crowd and nothing to feed them. That is until Andrew notices a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish or, as Stam termed it, “a happy meal.” I laughed. I appreciate humor in sermons.
I expect the disciples were not laughing, but rather were highly-skeptical when Jesus suggested that the boy’s meager meal could feed thousands. I would feel that way, too. But Jesus took the loaves and the fish, gave thanks and there was enough to feed everyone. With leftovers.
A Thanksgiving week message outside Faribault Church of Christ. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2025)
There are several takeaways from this miracle of feeding 5,000 people. First, God provides. That’s clear and Stam emphasized that point. In my own life, I’ve seen God provide again and again to meet my needs whether physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. I live in a house that is paid for. I have enough to eat. I have loving and supportive family and friends. I’ve had excellent healthcare. The list goes on and on. It’s not that I have the biggest, best or most. But I have enough.
And on that referenced day during biblical times, there was enough bread and fish in a small boy’s lunch to miraculously feed thousands. Jesus, the Rev. Stam said, opened his heart to compassion and fed the hungry.
As I jotted sermon notes, I began to better understand how Jesus taught compassion on that day. He could have ignored the hungry crowd, although that may have been a bit difficult to do given the sheer numbers. Rather, Jesus fed them. His disciples handed out the bread and fish and gathered the leftovers. They were learning an important lesson in compassion as active participants in a compassionate and caring act.
A kindness rock photographed among plants in the Waterville Community Patio. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
Just like the disciples, we are each capable of compassion, of giving to others. Perhaps we only have a happy meal to share. Or maybe we have an entire Thanksgiving feast to offer. I’m speaking figuratively here. The point is that, as the Rev. Stam said, this world needs compassionate love. And we can give that through monetary and food donations, volunteerism, kindness, anything really that shows care and love for our fellow human beings.
Finally, in the biblical feeding of the five thousand, two other words resonate with me. And those are “gave thanks.” Jesus gave thanks when he took the loaves and fish and then multiplied them. This week “thanks” is the focus, or should be the focus, of our thoughts.
Thank you to the readers who sent these cards to me. Your kindness touched me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2025)
I am thankful for you, dear readers. I am thankful for everyone who tells me how much they appreciate my writing and photography. I am thankful for my family, especially the birth of my second grandson in January. I am thankful for time spent at a family lake cabin. I am thankful for freedom of speech. I am thankful for a locally strong arts scene. I am thankful for friends, those who are long-time and those I’ve only just met. I am thankful for too many reasons to count…
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! May you always be blessed with “enough” and with a heart of compassion.
TELL ME: What are you especially thankful for this Thanksgiving?
One of the clocks in my small collection of vintage alarm clocks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
TIME TICKS. Things to do. Places to go. Appointments to keep. People to see. Conversations to have. Books to read. And for me, also, stories to write, deadlines to meet. Tick. Tick. Tick.
As I age, I feel more cognizant of time and the need to use it in the best possible way. The need to balance work and leisure. The need to spend more time with my core family. The need to use my talents in a positive way, in a way that makes a difference. The need to be there for, and serve, others. Tick. Tick. Tick.
We can’t stop time and aging. But we can manage how we use our time. I’m of the age where there’s significantly less time ahead of me than behind, although none of us knows the number of our days on this earth. Tick. Tick. Tick.
An important message displayed on a Scrabble board at LARK Toys, Kellogg, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I hope we can all use our time to show compassion and empathy for others. Be kind. Be that person who listens rather than talks. Be that person who smiles, who hugs, who holds a door open. Be that person who sends an encouraging text or note. Be that person who reaches out to someone who is hurting, grieving, in need and do whatever you can to uplift and help. Tick. Tick. Tick.
I used magnetic words to create this short message on my fridge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Think before you speak or write, because words matter. Words can build relationships or words can destroy them. In a time when vitriol runs rampant, pause before letting words fly across a keyboard or from your mouth. I expect we all hold regrets for words we’ve written or spoken. Use self-control. Ask like you care. Time ticks. Let’s use our time in a way that embraces goodness and kindness, love and compassion. Tick. Tick. Tick.
WHAT WOULD YOU like to add to this conversation about the use of time?
Faribault artist Kate Langlais painted this acrylic portrait of Pope Francis, displayed at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault, in 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2022)
HER COMMENT SUMMARIZES what many Catholics and others are likely thinking this week as they mourn the passing of Pope Francis on Easter Monday. Dorothy Storch writes this on the Facebook page of the Church of St. Patrick, Shieldsville. a rural southern Minnesota church near me: “Our Pope of peace and mercy, kindness and love. A man of God.”
A side and rear view of St. Wenceslaus Catholic Church, New Prague. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Perhaps that could be written about previous popes and other faith leaders. But not always. And not with the depth of admiration for Pope Francis, often termed “The people’s pope.” He changed things up in the Catholic church, opening minds and hearts and relating to people in a way that made him seem more like one of us.
Mass, about to begin at the Basilica of Saint Stanislaus Kostka in Winona. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
A posting on the Facebook page of the Church of St. Dominic, 16 miles to the northeast of Shieldsville in Northfield, explains: “His life was a shining example of humility, compassion, and servant leadership. Pope Francis reminded us through both word and action what it means to care for the poor, to welcome the outcast, and to live simply with a heart open to God. He walked closely with the people, always pointing toward mercy by living our faith with the same grace and humility.”
Loving words from the Bible in the heart of downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Even though I am not of the Catholic faith, I’ve heard, read and seen enough media reports about Pope Francis to understand that he was, indeed, a compassionate man of both words and actions. Words, especially when you are a faith leader, require positive action. Pope Francis visited inmates, embraced those with disabilities, met with migrants, washed feet and much more. Washing someone’s feet is truly an act of humility and service.
“Faysel,” who fled the war in Somalia.Kate Langlais created this portrait for an “I Am Minnesota” project featuring our state’s newest immigrants. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Pope Francis advocated for migrants, immigrants, refugees and others, calling for compassion and care. Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio to Italian immigrants in Argentina, this first pope of the Americas understood the plight of immigrants and other marginalized populations. He wasn’t afraid to speak up, to take a stand for what he thought was right, what Jesus would have him, and all of us, say and do. He gave voice to the voiceless, to those silenced by power, policies, politics and life-altering destructive actions. He built bridges, not walls.
Children of many ethnicities are part of the Mary statue in Mary’s Garden at St. Wenceslaus Catholic Church, New Prague. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In acknowledging the passing of Pope Francis, a post on the New Prague, Minnesota, Catholic Community Facebook page calls him “a figure who has left an indelible mark on the Catholic Church and the world.” I agree with that assessment of a man who cared deeply about people, and about the environment. We could all learn from this thoughtful pope who intentionally took the papal name of Francis from Saint Francis of Assisi, a man of faith focused on poverty, peace and protecting the earth.
I expect Pope Francis would have laughed at these solar popes (not of him) which I photographed many years ago at LARK Toys in Kellogg, Minnesota.Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I love how Pope Francis loved. And I love how he loved to laugh. In 2024, he invited comedians from around the world to the Vatican, underscoring the importance of laughter, recognizing its healing power. I recently watched a video clip of him kissing an infant dressed in papal garb along a parade route. A member of his security team brought the baby girl to the pope riding in his Pope Mobile. His broad smile said it all. Pope Francis didn’t find the costumed infant to be disrespectful of him, but rather a reason to laugh. I need to laugh more. We all need to laugh more.
“Peace and Love,” an acrylic portrait by Angelina Dornquast. Photographed in an exhibit at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)
What a legacy Pope Francis leaves. It is my hope that the next pope selected by the conclave of cardinals will continue in the path of humility, compassion and kindness. I want Dorothy Storch from St. Patrick’s in rural southern Minnesota to describe the new pope as “our Pope of peace and mercy, kindness and love,” just as she did Jorge Mario Bergoglio, the son of immigrants. He who humbly served with compassionate words and actions, becoming a much-beloved and respected world faith leader.
Love at a past student art show at the Paradise Center for the Arts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
May Pope Francis, now lying inside a simple wooden coffin, rest in peace at the Basilica of Saint Mary Major, which sits in an area of Rome heavily-populated by immigrants. With his coffin and burial choices, “the people’s pope” makes a strong statement even in death about living with grace, humility and compassion, loving all, always.
“Believe” by Mackenzie Miner, a then eighth grader at Faribault Middle School, was exhibited at a past student art show at the Paradise Center for the Arts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
DURING THE PAST SEVERAL DAYS, I’ve thought a lot about how to craft an Easter message about living my Christian faith against the backdrop of what’s happening in our country today. It’s tough, really tough, to feel positive and joyful. But I must believe that things will get better. Eventually.
Rather than dwell on the totality of everything negative, I decided to focus on messages I heard during a Palm Sunday worship service at my eldest daughter’s Lakeville church. Randy and I were there for a pancake breakfast fundraiser and then to listen to our grandchildren sing. We—kids and adults alike—sang the traditional processional hymn, “All Glory, Laud and Honor,” as we waved palm branches. It was an uplifting, praise-filled, reverent experience, reminding me of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem among a joyful crowd waving palm branches and shouting, “Hosanna!” Jesus rode in on a donkey, symbolic of his humility and humanity. Days later, the people would turn on Jesus and he would die an agonizing death upon a cross.
That journey to the cross, followed by the resurrection of Jesus on Easter morning, started on Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week and a time of reflection. The service at St. John’s started with a blessing of the palms. That blessing set the tone for worship, at least for me. The palm branches we held represented celebration, justice and comfort. These are the words that most resonated with me:Bless these protest palms, O God of Justice…may they make us bold and brave to stand up against injustice.
The unsheltered, photographed in downtown Madison, Wisconsin, in June 2018 near the state capitol. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
So, as I stood at the back of the church, I waved my palm frond high like a protest sign, thoughts of injustices racing through my mind. I’ve done some protesting lately with my words. I felt encouraged and empowered to stand bold and brave against injustices. Jesus did. He called people out. He got mad. He chastised. He advocated for and helped those who suffered the most. The outcasts. The lonely. The poor and hungry. He showed compassion and love. He provided. He forgave.
A portion of a quote by John Lewis posted in the window of a Dundas, MN., home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Remember the once popular WWJD/What Would Jesus Do slogan? I think Jesus would be more than a little ticked off about the injustices today, how people are treating one another, how those in positions of leadership are abusing their power. Jesus did, after all, overturn the tables in the temple when it became a noisy marketplace for greedy vendors focused on making money rather than allowing people easy access inside for spiritual reasons.
Posted on the exterior of the Congregational Church of Faribault United Church of Christ. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I’d like to think that Jesus wants every single one of us tobe bold and brave in our words and actions. It’s easy enough to sit quietly and do nothing. Just pretend all is well with everyone when, in reality, it’s not. People are struggling. In relationships. With unexpected and unnecessary job loss. Financially. Mentally. In ways I would never have thought possible in this country—suppression, oppression, ongoing discrimination, intimidation, imprisonment… Injustices run rampant.
A loving message posted along a bike trail in Madison, WI. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
We each have the power to do something about those injustices. Volunteer. Encourage. Donate money to charitable organizations or to individuals in and outside your circle who may need a little extra help right now. Smile. Be respectful. Extend small acts of kindness. Simply be a kind, decent, compassionate and loving person.
A message on a tombstone at Valley Grove Cemetery, rural Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
But also don’t hesitate to bebold and brave to stand up against injustice, to wave your protest palm branch high, then higher still.
TO LOSE A CHILD of any age is heartbreaking. But that is reality for Nyakueth Biel, a young mother rooted in my community. She is grieving the February 9 passing of her baby girl, two-month-old Naomi, in Brooklyn, New York.
Nyakueth’s daughter will be remembered during a funeral service at 12:30 p.m. Saturday, March 8, at my church, Trinity Lutheran in Faribault, before she is laid to rest at Maple Lawn Cemetery. No mother should have to bury her child, especially an infant.
I think of my own newborn grandson, who will soon turn two months old. And then I think of darling Naomi and her grieving mom, grandma, aunt and uncle. Pain runs deep.
Naomi’s obituary describes her as a very happy and healthy baby who was deeply loved and brought immense joy to those around her. And then she died. Unexpectedly. Within nine weeks of her December 10, 2024, birth.
We are reaching out to our community for support during this incredibly difficult time. Any contribution, no matter how small, will go toward covering funeral expenses and ensuring that Nyakueth has the support she needs as she navigates this heartbreaking loss. Your generosity will help ease her financial burden so she can focus on healing and honoring the memory of her precious daughter.
What wonderfully loving, supportive, heartfelt and heartbreaking words.
If you are able and so moved, I encourage you to contribute anything you can to help Nyakueth. The fundraising goal is $16,000. Click here to reach the GoFundMe page.
SHOWING COMFORT, LOVE, COMPASSION…
I personally comforted Naomi’s grandmother shortly after her granddaughter died. She was waiting for her daughter to arrive in Faribault from New York. I wrapped Nyayual in a tight hug, held her hands, prayed with her. And then I organized with friends to help the family financially. While our gift is small compared to Nyakueth’s needs, it helps. But more so than the money, it is the love, compassion, care and support that matters the most. We want Nyakueth and her family to feel the love of their faith family and many others.
As Nyakuan Daniel writes in her GoFundMe letter: Let us come together to support Nyakueth and show her that she is not alone in her grief. And that, my friends, is within our power to do.
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NOTE: If you prefer not to donate via GoFundMe but still wish to support Nyakueth with a financial gift, please reach out to me and perhaps I can help.I’m offering this option to those of you who know me personally and have my personal contact information.
Time passes… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THE END OF A YEAR always evokes a time of personal reflection. A time to consider the events, the moments, the feelings, the blessings that stood out in the 366 days passed. I’ve selected five, from the many, that happened in my life. Certainly, there’s much more that affected me personally. But these are ones that imprinted deeply upon me.
My unborn grandson’s room, photographed at Thanksgiving. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)
1. A BLESSING BREWING
The year 2024 brought incredibly joyful news to my family. That news came in a six-pack of all natural & locally brewed craft beer from Big News Brewing Co. My second daughter and her husband brought the beer in August, when they arrived from Madison, Wisconsin for the annual Helbling family reunion.
I was excited to taste this beer from a new brewery (so I was told) in Madison. I pulled out a bottle, read the label, BABY Boyd IS BREWING—ARRIVING JANUARY 2025, and realized this was no ordinary beer. I was about to become a grandma for the third time. Miranda and John pulled off the surprise. I was so focused on the journalistic aspect of the Big News Brewing Co. name that I totally missed the bare baby feet graphics on the necks of the bottles. Soon that baby boy will arrive.
A message from Barb, published in the memorial folder at her funeral. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2024)
2. THE BLESSINGS OF FRIENDSHIP
On the flip side of birth is death. And in 2024, I lost a dear friend, Barb, to cancer. We have been part of the same couple’s bible study group for some 20 years. I’ve lost track. As she neared the end of life, Barb and her family opened their doors wide so family and friends could come and go. We carried in meals and, more importantly, love. Barb, no matter how awful she felt, always had time for visitors. Her strength, her unwavering faith, her cheerful attitude uplifted all of us. She understood the value in being together, of approaching death with courage and faith. Of saying goodbye.
But it was after Barb’s funeral, as her casket was wheeled out of church to the waiting hearse, that I felt the full blessings of the friendship we (and by “we” I mean our bible study group) shared. Barb had chosen the guys as pallbearers. We six women stood side-by-side waiting as our husbands gathered around the casket. I stretched out my arms, motioning for my friends to come close, to wrap our arms around one another. There we stood, a line of women linked. Linked in grief, friendship and love. It was a powerful moment.
Flags for countries of origin displayed at a past International Festival in Faribault celebrating my community’s diversity. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
3. A BLESSING FROM A NEW FRIEND
Also powerful was the moment I met a Venezuelan immigrant while on a walk in Faribault’s Central Park. Adolfo was pushing his one-year-old grandson, Milan, in a stroller when I paused to greet them. I learned that Adolfo had fled violence and Communism in his home country and wanted desperately to get his family to America. His pain was palpable. “We’re so happy to have you here,” I told my new friend. Adolfo responded with a broad smile and the words “God bless you” as he made the sign of the cross and held his hands to his heart. I will forever cherish that moment and the memories of the morning I met Adolfo and Milan in Central Park.
A graphic of the first coronavirus. Source: CDC
4. BLESSING ANOTHER
I am also grateful for the opportunities I’ve had in 2024 to encourage a young man, whom I’ll call J, in his struggles with long haul COVID. A friend, after a short conversation in a grocery store parking lot, connected me to J’s mom and from there the door was opened. I understand how devastating this diagnosis. I spent six months in vestibular rehab therapy in 2023 trying to overcome the many debilitating symptoms of long haul COVID. I’m better now, but still experience residual, primarily with sensory overload issues.
J’s case is much more severe than mine, especially physically. He had to drop out of college, used a wheelchair, struggled with overwhelming symptoms too numerous to mention. I tried to offer him hope, support and encouragement. Empathy, compassion and understanding. I also referred him to my physical therapist, whom J is now seeing. Few people understand this chronic condition, or even make an effort to understand, which makes working through long haul COVID even harder. That I could take my experiences and help J, and his mom, has helped me, too. I can see the good in a very difficult year in my life when I was basically home-bound. Empathy and the capacity to help others grows with each challenge we face in life.
Randy and I with the mandala our son crafted for us. (Copyrighted photo by Caleb Helbling)
5. BLESSED WITH LOVE
Finally, my last memorable moment of 2024 came just recently with a Christmas gift from my son, who was visiting from Boston. Caleb gifted Randy and me with a mandala he laser cut from plywood, stained and glued together. Six layers. When I realized what it was, I wept. I cried because of the love Caleb’s gift represents. I cried because I recognized the time, effort and thought he put into crafting this artwork for us. Hearts theme the piece. It speaks “family.” If art can capture love, this mandala holds endless love.
And so 2024 ends. A year that brought joy and sadness. But also a year overflowing with love…from family to friends to community.
A lens on my new prism-free prescription eyeglasses circles the surgery location in Minneapolis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
After a 1 ½-hour surgery to realign my misaligned eyes, I was still groggy. Yet, Kat noted, I was coming out of general anesthesia quickly and well. For that I felt thankful. Not everyone handles anesthesia without side effects.
Given my emerging level of alertness, I don’t recall timelines or all conversations. But I do remember the kindness of Kat. And kindness is key when you’re coming out of surgery.
There was no vodka in the recovery room (nor did I want any; I seldom drink hard liquor). (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
HERE, HAVE A DRINK
In addition to compassion and care, Kat gave me food and drink. It was well after lunch and I hadn’t consumed anything (except a few sips of water with Tylenol right before surgery) for many hours. Typically I get hangry when I don’t eat on time. Ask my family. Kat brought cranberry juice along with soda crackers and graham crackers and then ginger ale which she suggested I mix with a second cup of cranberry juice, a cocktail without the vodka. (I think Kat mentioned vodka, but maybe I did.) I shared that my Bible study group has a signature cranberry drink, sans the alcohol. Kat kept a watchful eye on me. I hope she didn’t notice that I didn’t particularly like cranberry juice and ginger ale mixed. Too sweet for me.
But I appreciated the sweetness of my caring nurse, who moved to Minnesota from Missouri, who was named Katherine, called Kathy by her mom and then called Kat in college. Kat suits her, even if she owns three dogs, not cats. More on that later.
At some point, before my surgeon came to see me in recovery, Kat suggested I change from my lavender paper gown into my street clothes. I was all for that. She removed my hospital slipper socks and then helped slip my socks and shoes onto my feet. Can’t have a just-out-of-surgery patient getting all lighted-headed by bending down. I managed the rest of dressing myself, proving I was becoming more alert, alert for the next step in surgery completion.
In the recovery room after eye muscle alignment surgery. (Copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling, January 22, 2024)
LOOK AT THAT “E”
Enter my neuro ophthalmologist surgeon, Dr. Collin McClelland, and a second doctor who had been in the operating room. I dreaded this moment when Dr. McClelland planned to tweak his work by pulling an adjustable suture stitched into my left eye.
Alright then. Look at that E across the room. Do you see one or two? Two. (He did some other vision checks, not just with the E, during the alignment process.) After my surgeon dropped a topical anesthetic into my left eye, he removed the steri strips adhering the suture onto my cheek. He hovered over me, his tools and face a blur. Don’t move. Look up to the left. You’re going to feel a tug. Yup. I did. OK, let’s check that E again. One or two? Two. OK, we need to do this again. Tug. Pain. You’re doing great. Check the E for the third time. Mostly one. OK, I’m going to leave it. And then my doctor worked to tie and cut that suture, simultaneously encouraging me with his gentle voice. You’re doing great. The adjustment process took 20 minutes and was made easier by my kind surgeon.
A section of a 1974 album cover from my collection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
WE’RE OFF TO PROM
Kindness. I felt that in the care I received at M Health Fairview Surgery Center. Skilled care that came with humor and compassion and distractions that enabled me to manage eye muscle surgery. Kind Kat remained after Randy left to get the van from a nearby parking ramp. She escorted me to the restroom, our arms linking as if we were going to prom, Kat said. We needed a song, perhaps John Denver’s “Sunshine on My Shoulders,” theme for my 1970s era prom, I suggested. We laughed, Kat and I.
But I wasn’t laughing when we returned to my recovery room and I noticed Randy’s cellphone and charger lying on a chair, hidden beneath a tote bag. He was supposed to call when he reached the patient pick-up spot. But Randy was long gone, so I grabbed his phone and charger. Then Kat wheeled me onto the elevator that carried us downstairs to await Randy’s arrival, “old people” wrap-around sunglasses protecting my eyes. Thanks, Kat, for the (un)fashionable eyewear.
I’m becoming familiar with these two locations on the campus of the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
THE LONG MINNESOTA GOODBYE, SORT OF
I expected Randy to simply drive up. He didn’t. Rather, he retraced his steps in an attempt to find his phone. Kat called someone to clarify I had his phone. As we waited, I grew restless. I just wanted to go home. Kat sensed that, pulling out her phone to show me a picture of her three dogs. Not cats. I appreciated the momentary distraction.
Eventually, Randy arrived and Kat steered me to our van, guiding me into the passenger seat. Then she hugged me. That loving gesture filled me with happiness, as if I was Kat’s sister rather than simply another patient. Happy despite the eye pain. Happy despite the long, exhausting day.
That happiness soon vanished as Randy took a wrong entrance ramp and we found ourselves aiming east toward St. Paul rather than west toward Minneapolis. I was in no mood for a longer trip, even if lengthened by only 15 minutes. But onward, back home to Faribault to rest and begin healing. Five weeks out, I am doing just that, continuing to heal. And I am remembering, too, the many kindnesses and the skilled care given to me by my compassionate medical team.
Expressions of gratitude are written on tags hung on The Gratitude Tree outside the Northfield Public Library in 2021. I love this idea. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2021)
BEFORE I HEAD in to bilateral strabismus eye surgery this week and then recovery and healing, I want to take a moment to thank you, my dear family of blog readers. Thank you for your care, kindness, compassion and prayers. I’ve read all in your thoughtful messages. Mostly, I feel your love and support in my heart. You represent all that is good in this world. I am grateful.
An especially bright spot in the heart of downtown Faribault is the Second Street Garden, a pocket garden with positive messages. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2019)
I expect to be absent from writing and photography and, unfortunately, reading, while my eyes heal. Any blog posts you read this coming week were written pre-surgery and scheduled to publish. I’ll take this one day at a time and update you on surgery when I am able.
Love this LOVE mural in the heart of historic downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2020)
In the meantime, continue to shine your kindness and love into your neighborhoods, your communities, and into this big wide world. I firmly believe we each hold the power to uplift one another, to be that person who puts others before self, who chooses to build up rather than tear down, who exudes a spirit of hope and positivity. Onward, dear friends, onward.
A crown of thorns (similar to that worn by Jesus on the cross) used in a Stations of the Cross event at my church in 2019. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2019)
ON THIS GOOD FRIDAY, the day Christ was crucified, I contemplated what I would write. I had two topics in mind—suffering and compassion. Then I realized I needn’t choose one. I could focus on both.
Christ died a cruel and agonizing death. There is no denying that. Yet, even in his betrayal, his pain, his intense suffering, he showed compassion to the end. And beyond the end. We can learn a lot from Jesus.
We all experience suffering in life. That’s a given in our humanity. Right now I have friends going through some really rough stuff within their immediate and extended families. A one-year-old on life support. A nephew dead in a tragic car accident. Another battling advanced cancer. Ongoing and new health issues. It can feel like a lot. And to think otherwise would be to deny the challenges facing people about whom I care deeply. There are days when I feel overwhelmed by all the suffering in this world and beyond. Enough already, I want to scream.
Reaching out with care and compassion. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
But then I recognize that I can either be dragged down by it or I can do as Christ did—show compassion. I can be that person who listens. I can be that person who offers encouraging words. I can be that person who mails an uplifting greeting card with a personal note. I can be that person who connects and shows care in tangible ways and sets aside my anguish to focus on those at the center of challenges.
This is not the time to pull out my own stories and compare, thus putting the focus on me. This is not the time for me to tell anyone how to think, feel or act. This is not the time to offer advice. This is the time to simply be there. To listen. To hug. To pray, but to take my compassion beyond thoughts and prayers.
We can all work on improving our listening skills. Not just hear, but listen. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I am a major advocate of listening. It is one of the greatest gifts anyone can give to someone who is grieving, in crisis, in the throes of health or other challenges. Listening doesn’t seem to come easily for most people. It takes a conscious, focused effort. But at its core, listening is easy. It requires keeping one’s mouth closed, for starters. And then it necessitates concentrating, taking in every word, every nuance, body language and detail.
By nature, I am a quiet observer. I don’t need to be, want to be, the loudest person in the room pushing my ideas or opinions or recommendations. I know too many individuals who fit that self-centered persona. They exhaust me and, yes, sometimes even anger me. Quiet compassion and listening center me.
An important message painted onto a fence in a downtown Faribault pocket garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Today, as I reflect on the life and death of Christ, I see someone who showed great compassion throughout his time on earth. He witnessed and understood suffering. He experienced emotions. He felt pain. Yes, I can learn a lot from Jesus. About loving. About listening. About showing compassion, even in suffering.
TELL ME: How do you show compassion to those who are facing challenges?
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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