An Easter-themed message on a church bulletin board. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
HAPPY EASTER, dear friends!
As a Christian, I celebrate the resurrection of Jesus today. Now, I could share one of the many photos I’ve taken of stained glass windows and other art to illustrate that event. But instead, I’ve chosen a photograph of a bulletin board display.
I spotted this display after attending “The Last Supper Drama” at St. John’s United Church of Christ, Wheeling Township, rural Faribault, on Palm Sunday. There it was, on a wall of the fellowship hall where we gathered for bars (a Minnesota word for sweet treats like brownies), refreshments and conversation.
The message is simple, to the point and relatable with a secular Easter twist. That twist being the sugary marshmallow Peeps loved by some and disliked by others (that would be me; I prefer chocolate).
But I definitely appreciate this clever message done in the mostly pastel hues of Easter. JESUS IS RISEN. TELL YOUR PEEPS.
This would make a great children’s object lesson during an Easter morning worship service. Print the message. Attach to a small box of Peeps and give it to the kiddos with the cautionary warning, “Wait until you get home to eat your Peeps.”
Have a joyful Easter with your peeps, everyone! He is risen! Alleluia!
An inflatable Easter bunny photographed in Courtland (west of Mankato) many Easters ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
LAST EASTER I FAILED as a mom. I failed to mail a chocolate bunny to my adult son who lives in Boston. It wasn’t that I forgot, but rather that I didn’t want to spend the money for a chunk of chocolate which seemed overpriced at the time. I also really didn’t think my son cared all that much about getting a bunny from me. He did.
So this year, more than a week before Easter, I picked up a 3-ounce solid chocolate bunny for $2.97 and mailed it for $8.10. Not exactly fiscally smart. But sometimes you can’t put a price on tradition, love and expectations of a loved one.
A stained glass window inside Holden Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon, depicts the crucifixion of Jesus. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
That got me thinking about Easter traditions, both secular and faith-based. Easter, for me, has always been a mix of each with the primary focus on celebrating Christ’s resurrection.
Eggs dyed with my mom several years before her death. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
As a child, I dyed eggs with my five siblings and parents, something I continued with my three children. As a child, I set my repurposed yellow plastic cottage cheese container, filled with plastic grass, on the kitchen table. The next morning my siblings and I awakened way too early to search for our Easter “baskets” hidden somewhere inside our farmhouse.
I’m sure Mom would have preferred we slept in. But you can’t curtail a child’s excitement over getting candy, a rare treat back in the day. The goal was always to find our baskets before heading to worship services at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Vesta.
If we could get away with it, we inked our arms with temporary tattoos from the Easter egg dyeing kit. Mom preferred we wait until after church to stamp our skin. But we kids didn’t always listen.
We did, however, listen when Mom told us to get ready for church, the boys in their suits or other dress clothes and us girls in our Easter dresses and bonnets. Or as my sister still reminds me, in the ugly yellow daisy dress handed down from me to her.
My vintage 1960s purse, which I still have. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I still remember with great fondness the ensemble—a lime green skirt and jacket with a sleeveless floral top—stitched by my godmother one Easter. I carried a lime green purse, completing the fashionable look. Oh, how I wish I still had that 1960s outfit. Perhaps my granddaughter could wear it. Or maybe not. She might just tell me, “To be honest with you, Grandma…,” as she did recently about a frozen cheese pizza she didn’t like.
My favorite Easter hymn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Once my siblings and I arrived at St. John’s in our Easter finery, we scampered up the steep steps to the balcony. There we joyously sang “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” with other Sunday School students. That remains my favorite Easter hymn.
While decades have passed since those childhood Easters back on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, the lessons I learned and the faith that grew inside me remain strong.
The risen Lord centers a trio of stained glass windows above the altar inside Trinity Lutheran Church, Wanamingo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Now, as the aging matriarch of the family, I find our Easter celebration evolving. My eldest daughter and her husband often host Easter dinner. And if I don’t worship at my own church, Trinity Lutheran, I join her family for worship in their Lakeville church, ironically named St. John’s.
Halfway across the country, my son will likely be alone on Easter. But he will at least have the chocolate bunny I mailed to him from Minnesota, without fail this year.
This stained glass window of the women at Jesus’ empty tomb rises above the altar at Holden Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon, Minnesota.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
EASTER SUNDAY MARKS a day of celebration among Christians as we rejoice in the resurrection of Jesus and the promise of eternal life.
My favorite Easter hymn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
It is a day of joyful song, of prayerful gratitude, of alleluias.
Eggs dyed with my mom many years ago.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
It is a day, too, to gather with family over brunch or a ham dinner. It is a day to find Easter baskets and hidden eggs.
It is a day of memories made and memories remembered. It is a day of missing those loved ones no longer with us, but loving on those who are near or far.
The risen Lord centers the trio of stained glass windows above the altar at Trinity Lutheran Church, Wanamingo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
It is a day when the sun rises on a struggling world, where hope is needed now more than ever.
Have a blessed and joy-filled Easter, dear friends!
“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.
NOT EVERYONE LIKES THEM. Rabbits, that is. They can be a nuisance, nibbling, even devouring, garden flowers and vegetables. I understand that justified dislike. My oldest daughter, who has been trying to establish a flowerbed in front of her Lakeville home, battles rabbits every year. They win, mostly.
There will be no chocolate bunnies purchased by me this Easter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
But this week, rabbits are in good favor. Or should I say at least one rabbit is welcomed. That would be the Easter Bunny, bearer of candy. I will like him a whole lot if he drops a delivery of Reese’s pieces eggs (peanut butter candy in a crunchy shell) off at my house…because I limited my Easter candy purchase to one bag. I bought Robin eggs, which are malted milk candy in a crunchy shell, for Randy as they are his favorite. And they were reasonably priced at $2.48 for a 9-ounce bag. Cost—around $5 for most bags of candy—kept more candy out of my shopping cart. Not even the grandkids or my two out-of-town adult children will get chocolate bunnies from me this year. They’ll have to hope the Easter Bunny comes through.
Among the many gas cans my middle brother collects is this Rabbit-themed one, which I love. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Ah, Rabbits. I really do like them. I’m amazed at their swiftness, hopping across yards, including mine, at seemingly record-breaking speed. Yet, they can also sit statue still and commence a stare-down.
Me, posing with the rabbit statue in Wabasso when I was back in town for my 50th high school class reunion in September 2024. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo by Randy Helbling)
That brings me to the mammoth rabbit statue which sits along Minnesota State Highway 68 in Wabasso in southwestern Minnesota. I attended high school in this rural community named after a Native American word meaning “white rabbit.” Our school mascot was Thumper. No jokes, please. I heard plenty of bunny jokes decades ago. I am forever proud to be a Wabasso Rabbit. I mean, who has a school mascot that interesting and unique? A name that actually connects to history and place and is found in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem, “The Song of Hiawatha.”
This shows part of a relief print, “Neon Love Rabbit,” by Karen Peters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Just the other evening I saw some unique rabbit art at the Paradise Center for the Arts. I was sitting at the annual PCA membership meeting when I spotted this art in the gallery. When the meeting concluded, I hopped (well, not quite, but the word fits here) over to look at the work of Minneapolis artist Karen Peters. She explores color through printmaking, creating relief prints. Rabbits are among the subjects of her prints.
Now I expect my eldest daughter, given her dislike of rabbits, would probably favor Peters’ “More Rage” print. Amber has raged more than once about invasive rabbits and their path of destruction.
“Spiro rabbit,” a relief print by Karen Peters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Me? I rather like Peters’ “Spiro rabbit” print with its contrast of black rabbit lurking among yellow flowers created with a Spirograph. The last time the grandkids stayed overnight, I pulled out the Spirograph, a geometric drawing device that has been around since 1965, way back when I was a kid. That Peters used this popular art tool to bloom flowers into her rabbit print shows out-of-the-box creative thinking.
A spring scene set against a backdrop of bikes in the front window of Mill Town Cycles. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Upon leaving the Paradise, I passed by Mill Town Cycles, glancing at the window display to see more creativity. You guessed it. There was another rabbit, this one poking through the grass to sniff a bee. It was a cute scene, perfect for spring, perfect for Easter.
Garden art of a rabbit gardening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Whether you like rabbits or not, universally-speaking, the Easter Bunny seems like a rabbit we can all love. As long as he stays out of the garden. And brings lots of candy.
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FYI: The art of Karen Peters, Justin Peters, Clayton Hubert, Scott Maggart, Gail Gaits, Sushila Anderson and Bethlehem Academy students will be on display until May 10 at the Paradise Center for the Arts in historic downtown Faribault.I photographed the art of Karen Peters with permission of the PCA. The white spots in my photos of her framed art are unavoidable glare on the glass.
Christdala Swedish Lutheran Church, rural Millersburg. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)
IN MY BACKROADS travels around Minnesota, I’ve often stopped at churches, drawn by their history, architecture and art. Churches are, to me, more than houses of worship. They are also galleries, museums, centers of praise and grief and joy.
Inside Vang Lutheran Church, rural Dennison, a depiction of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2014)
There’s almost something holy about stepping inside a church, into the quiet of a space graced by colorful stained glass windows, religious sculptures, pews worn by the hands of many.
I feel a sense of reverence in the light, in the stillness, in the peace that fills an empty sanctuary. I feel centered. Calm. Enveloped by the sheer beauty surrounding me.
Inside St. Michael’s Catholic Church in Buckman in Morrison County, stained glass art shows Jesus carrying His cross. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2021)
That beauty often emanates from the art. Stained glass windows, designed and built by skilled artisans, add a dimension of sacredness that appears heavenly when sunlight streams through glass.
Jesus’ crucifixion depicted in a stained glass window inside Holden Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2016)
Themed to history, those windows visually tell stories written within the bible. Many focus on Holy Week: The Last Supper. Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane. The crucifixion of Jesus. And then His glorious resurrection on Easter morning.
This statue of Mary grieving the loss of her son shows deep emotion. It’s inside St. Mary’s Catholic Church, New Trier. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2017)
Sculptures, too, depict the same in life-size statues.
Hands convey so much love in intimate details in this sculpture of Mary holding Jesus’ hand. Photographed at St. Mary’s Catholic Church, New Trier. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2017)
Sacred and religious art is powerful. It evokes emotions. Inspires. Uplifts. Gives reason to pause and reflect.
This shows a snippet of the center stained glass window in a trio above the altar at Trinity Lutheran Church, Wanamingo. It depicts Christ’s resurrection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2016)
This Holy Week, as my thoughts turn more reflective and inward, I feel deep gratitude for the long ago faithful who created the stained glass windows, the sculptures and other art adorning churches. These works of art are worthy of our attention, our appreciation, no matter religious affiliation or not.
A full view of the altar painting by A. Pederson inside Moland Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon. It’s based on Matthew 11: 28 – 30. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened…” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2013)
I can only imagine how many eyes have focused on the art within sanctuary walls. During baptisms. During weddings. During funerals. And during worship services. Joy. Comfort. Peace. Blessings. They’re there, all there, within the art within these sacred spaces.
My favorite Easter hymn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
IT IS MY ABSOLUTE favorite Easter hymn—“I Know that My Redeemer Lives.” And there is a reason behind that choice.
As a child, I sang that song with my Sunday School class during Easter worship services at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Vesta. Dressed in our Easter finery—girls in pastel dresses and Easter hats, boys in dress pants and shirts, some with bow ties cinching their necks—we belted out the joyful words about the risen Lord.
To this day, I can recite most of the verses. The words are that ingrained in my memory. Words of triumph, love, blessings, assurance and so much more. I feel my soul filling with Easter morning hope in the memories of singing that aged hymn.
I admittedly cannot carry a tune or read a single musical note. And I admit to a bit of fear on those long ago Easter mornings in rural southwestern Minnesota. Not fear about forgetting the words to a hymn. But rather a dislike of sitting in the St. John’s balcony with only a low, partial wall separating me from the sanctuary below. I never jostled for the front pew in that upstairs packed with kids.
I hold another memory from Easter morning. Not of danger, but rather of youthful disobedience. Mom asked my siblings and me not to tattoo our arms before church services. Of course, we didn’t listen and excitedly held washcloth to paper tattoos, imprinting temporary art (from Easter egg dyeing kits) onto our skin. In the end, I don’t think anyone really cared as long as we showed up to sing at church.
And so all these decades later, I remember my favorite hymn and how my faith has carried me through life. Through joyful moments, through ordinary days, through really difficult times…
He lives to bless me with his love.
He lives to help in time of need.
I know that my Redeemer lives!
A joyful Easter to all of you from my home in southern Minnesota, not from the balcony of St. John’s!
TELL ME: Do you have a favorite Easter hymn and/or memory? I’d like to hear.
A sculpture inside St. Michael’s Catholic Church, Buckman, MN. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo September 2020.
AS HOLY WEEK MOVES ever closer to Easter Sunday, I find myself focusing on hope. It’s such a positive word. One that I’ve held close to my heart through some really difficult challenges in life.
This past pandemic year has challenged all of us. Stretched our endurance, our patience, our ability to cope. To live life in a way that would keep us, and those we love, safe. I’ve felt frustrated about lax attitudes and behaviors regarding COVID-19. But through all of this, I’ve tried to balance that with hope.
Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo May 2020.
Hope seems synonymous with spring in Minnesota. Nature reveals hope in spring bulbs popping, in trees budding, in dormant grass greening and much more.
After a season of cold and darkness, hope breaks forth in longer days. More warmth. More sunshine. More light.
And now, in this too long season of COVID, hope for an end to this pandemic.
A photo of Christ’s face from a stained glass window in my church, Trinity Lutheran, Faribault. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2012.
As a woman of faith, I also view this time of year through the lens of eternal hope. I see the face of Jesus. Determined. Caring. Suffering. Dying. And then living, breathing. Alive. Darkness replaced by light on Easter morning. The light of eternal life.
This Easter Sunday, just like last, I’ll miss celebrating Easter in person with my faith family. I’ll miss the feeling that comes with worshiping inside a church with other Christians. I’ll miss the scent of lilies and the reverberation of the organ. I’ll miss the blessings of being among friends, of joyful Easter greetings.
Yet, I can still view the Easter service online or listen on the radio. I can experience worship indirectly. I can praise God and pray and let the joyful music of Easter fill my ears. And my mind. Hope remains. I know that my Redeemer lives! What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
Inspirational and honoring words are embedded in the mosaic tile on a memorial for Barb Larson (murdered in an act of domestic violence) in Faribault. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
TO YOU, MY DEAR READERS, I wish you a most blessed, joyful and hope-filled Easter!
My favorite Easter hymn. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
GOOD AFTERNOON and Happy Easter from southeastern Minnesota, where the snow falls thick and fast. The setting appears more Christmas than Easter as snow layers the landscape and slicks roadways. We expect up to eight inches in this winter spring storm.
Nearly everything about this Easter has changed. No in-house worship. No gathering with family. No Easter chocolate purchased (because I avoided crowded grocery stores). And now this snow.
As I watched and listened to the service, I noted the lilies and other spring flowers adorning the sanctuary as usual on Easter. I heard the organ and other music and the joyful voices of selected singers. And I listened to the uplifting Easter message about the resurrected Lord.
Eggs dyed with my mom many years ago. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Afterwards I reflected on Easters past—on my favorite childhood Easter hymn, I Know that My Redeemer Lives; on family gathered. Ham dinners. Easter egg hunts.
And I thought, too, about how, today, I expected to have our three adult children (and spouses) and our grandkids here. We haven’t all been together since Thanksgiving. If the power doesn’t go out in this storm, we’ll connect via video later this afternoon.
“I am the resurrection and the life.” A stained glass window in the Trinity Lutheran Church sanctuary, Faribault, MN. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
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