This paper Baby Jesus goes on my Christmas tree each year. It is from the 1960s, from my Sunday School Christmas lesson. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
MY DEAR READERS, I wish you a most blessed Christmas as we celebrate the birth of Christ. May peace, joy and love be yours. Merry Christmas!
Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
I created this Thanksgiving display in a stoneware bowl. My sister-in-law Rena crafted the Thanksgiving card.
DURING THIS THANKSGIVING WEEK, thoughts naturally turn to, well, thankfulness.
Life has presented numerous challenges in recent years. But I still have many reasons to give thanks. Like most of you, the obvious food and shelter cannot be omitted from my list of blessings along with my family, my dear dear family.
The extended Kletscher family poses for a photo on the Fourth of July 2015. Seven are missing. My nephew’s wife, in the purple-and-white striped shirt, gave birth to a daughter in August. Hattie joins two other great nieces, Sierra and Evelyn, born this year. What a blessing to have all of these new babies on both sides of the family. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2015.
In five more months, my immediate family will grow in size as my eldest daughter and her husband welcome their first baby, my first grandbaby. Excited? Yes, you betcha.
I just know that my husband, Randy, will be a wonderful grandpa. He’s not the most demonstrative with words or emotions. But when it comes right down to it, he’s as good as they come. He works hard. He’s loyal and strong and smart. And funny. He makes me laugh. That is a blessing. Plus, he’s great with kids. Our 2 1/2-year-old nephew Landon, who moved a year ago to rural Faribault with his family, considers Randy one of his “papas” (aka grandpas).
And then there are those close friends… Honestly, these are the people who are here for me through the ups and downs of life. They don’t judge. They don’t criticize. Rather they listen and encourage. They pray and support and show care and compassion. Life would be a lot harder without them.
One of my favorite depictions of Christ, this one in a stained glass window at Trinity Lutheran Church, North Morristown. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
Which brings me to my faith. Thank God for God.
This photo from March shows the basement project in progress. We removed Styrofoam insulation and paneling from the clay tile foundation walls. We brushed and scraped loose concrete and paint from walls before washing with Borax and painting white. We also removed Styrofoam sheets from the ceiling. I painted the ceiling boards white. Later, we also removed the rest of the paneling from the stairway and surrounding area, replacing it with sheetrock. That, too, was painted white. Floors are now covered with carpet tile. We installed a Beaver waterproofing system and a sump pump. (Yes, eventually I’ll post more about this project.)
And thank God we finally finished our basement project after more than a year. (OK, the steps aren’t carpeted yet, but I’m still calling the project done.) We now have a waterproofed basement with white walls and ceiling. The clean industrial look. Gone are the mold, dark paneling and red carpet. Totes are now neatly organized on a corner shelving unit. But the best part of all—the absence of mice after we uncovered, and sealed, their entry point. Everyone knows the arrival of cold weather in Minnesota brings mice inside.
Given my love of words, I created this Thanksgiving display in my dining room with thrift store art and Scrabble letters.
I’m not particularly fond of Minnesota’s cold and snowy months. But I am thankful to live in a state that embraces and supports the arts. In the past year, I’ve participated in three poetry readings, been published in two anthologies (poetry and creative nonfiction) and penned poems for a joint photo-poetry exhibit. All of these opportunities connect me to other writers. Minnesota truly is a great place to engage in all facets of the arts.
That’s my post, labeled “Barn Memories,” featured on November 30, 2013, on Freshly Pressed. Daily, WordPress editors highlight the best content from WordPress sites in a section now tagged “Discover.” My work has been showcased thrice on Freshly Pressed. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2013.
I also count this blog as a major blessing. Through my writing and photography, I’ve connected with some pretty fantastic people both in person and online. And, as a blogging bonus, I’ve also sold photo rights to clients ranging from creative agencies to authors to an Austrian musician to a local funeral home and more. I’ve had an especially good year in photo sales, just at a time when the extra income is especially needed. (If you’re interested in buying rights to my photos, email me at audrey at mnprairieroots.com.)
Yes, I am thankful for you, dear readers. You are the best. Happy Thanksgiving!
I purchased this vintage turkey candle several years ago in a Redwood Falls thrift store. The candle has never been lit and never will be.
Read a related story on NPR about gratitude being good for the heart and soul. Click here.
This concludes my three-part “blessings” series. Click here to read my first blessings post and then click here to read my second.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
YOU’LL FIND IT in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke. And in the Psalms:
Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.
You will also find this Scripture in St. Peter. The town. The words banner across the front of a house along South Minnesota Avenue/U.S. Highway 169 which slices right through the heart of this southern Minnesota community.
I know nothing about the house—whether it’s home or business or something else.
But I know that I appreciate the blessing of this bible verse upon travelers like myself passing through St. Peter.
If you are traveling this holiday, may your journey be safe.
#
Click here to read my first post in this three-part “blessings” series. Check back on Thanksgiving to read my personal list of blessings during the past year.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
The Mother of Good Counsel Votive Chapel, visible upon arrival at the Shrine site.
TUCKED INTO A HILLSIDE just south of La Crosse, the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe draws modern day pilgrims seeking solace, peace and hope.
This view of the parking lot shows the scenic rural setting.
How this shrine came to be in rural Wisconsin traces to the desires of a Bishop and of a family to create a place that would bring people closer to God.
This sculpture of Juan Diego stands near the Pilgrim Center.
To summarize, in 1531 Aztec convert Juan Diego five times witnessed apparitions of the Blessed Virgin Mary. His uncle, Juan Bernardino, reported that she had cured him and was thereafter to be known as Santa Maria de Guadalupe.
This image of Our Lady of Guadalupe is woven into the Juan Diego statue.
I am not of the Catholic faith. Therefore I do not understand the intricacies of Juan Diego’s story. But I glimpse his significance to those, especially, of Hispanic heritage. Juan, a native of Mexico, is the first Roman Catholic Indigenous saint from the Americas.
Outside the Pilgrim Center rests this sculpture of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
When I recently visited the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Wisconsin, visitors of Hispanic origin outnumbered all others.
A rack holds 576 candles inside the Mother of Good Counsel Votive Chapel. Visitors, for a price, may have a candle lit. A lift allows lighting of the tiered candles stretching high into the chapel.
But, no matter your ethnicity or religion, this worshipful setting distances the distractions of life, replacing them with hope and serenity.
BONUS PHOTOS:
Some of the “rules,” posted on a window outside the Pilgrim Center entry.
Our Lady of Guadalupe
The stained glass windows inside the Mother of Good Counsel Votive Chapel depict “Our Blessed Mother.”
Another chapel statue, of, I assume, the Virgin Mary.
The scent and heat of burning candles prevail in the chapel.
Rosary beads on a chapel window sill.
The stained glass windows in the chapel are exquisite.
Up the path from the chapel, a statue of the first canonized Native American, Saint Kateri Tekakwitha.
The path winds up the hill toward The Shrine Church and other attractions. Golf cart rides to the Shrine are available.
The Shrine Church. Photo courtesy of Miranda Helbling.
Inside the Shrine Church, constructed between 2004-2008. Photo courtesy of Miranda Helbling.
Art abounds inside the Shrine. Photo courtesy of Miranda Helbling.
The Memorial to the Unborn celebrates and honors the lives of the unborn. Photo courtesy of Miranda Helbling.
FYI: This religious site just outside of La Crosse includes many attractions such as the Pilgrim Center (with cafe and gift shop), Mother of Good Counsel Votive Chapel, The Shrine Church, Stations of the Cross, Rosary Walk, Devotional Areas and the Memorial to the Unborn. Click here for more information.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling & Miranda Helbling
THE OCCASIONAL LUMP in mashed potatoes is culinarily acceptable to me, because it means the potatoes are real. Not instant.
Delicious home-cooked food fills roasters at Trinity’s annual fall harvest dinner on Sunday. That’s gravy in the first roaster and squash in the second.
When you dine at the annual fall harvest dinner at Trinity Lutheran Church North Morristown, as I did on Sunday, you get (mostly) authentic homemade food. Potatoes that have been peeled and mashed in the church basement. Sometimes with lumps. Baked turkey and ham sliced into roasters. Squash picked from the garden and baked. Cranberries that are prepared, not dumped from a can.
Volunteers sell tickets outside the church.
As much as I savor the delicious food served at this church dinner, I also delight in the location and the people.
Trinity Lutheran Church North Morristown
To drive into the country on an October Sunday to celebrate the harvest among hard-working folks rooted in the land seems a rural pilgrimage.
A snippet of the stained glass window in the balcony.
Diners file into the sanctuary through a side door and wait in pews until dining space opens in the basement.
Stunning stained glass windows line the sides of the sanctuary.
To wait in the pews of an aged church, stained glass windows filtering light, seems almost sacred.
Members of the kitchen crew dish up meals for take-out.
In the fellowship of church diners, there’s a reverent respect for those who labor in the church basement. For they provide that which fills the stomach as much as the soul with all that is good. Food and fellowship.
Decorations celebrate a thankfulness to God for the harvest.
Whether you come with family or friends or no one, you’ll soon be engaged in conversation.
Two lines keep things moving. About 430 diners attended Sunday’s dinner.
Dining in the church basement.
There’s something simply satisfying about sitting on a folding chair in the closeness of a church basement communing with others at a Thanksgiving style meal. Conversation and pass the coleslaw please. Or the cranberries. Clatter of knives and forks and a swarm of volunteers squeezing between tables to pour coffee and deliver plates of frosted cakes and then, afterward, to clear plates and set new place settings.
The pastor and his family raise chickens in a backyard coop.
North Morristown is authentically, next to cornfields and farm sites, rural. It’s as rural as chickens in the pastor’s backyard.
Sven the dog plays catch me.
It’s as rural as Sven the dog roaming the church grounds.
Just down the road from Trinity, harvest is underway at this farm.
It’s as rural as a grain truck and a wagon brimming with soybeans a farm site away.
Vehicles ring the church and school during Sunday’s dinner.
No pretentiousness exists here. Even the pastor excuses himself to wash dishes in the church basement.
BONUS PHOTOS:
Gigantic painted pumpkins sit outside the church and school. Kids at the school painted pumpkins as part of art class.
A camo pumpkin.
Produce, baked and canned goods, crafts and more are sold in a back room of the church basement.
Church members bring in canned produce to sell, like these pickles.
Several years ago I photographed this lovely woman drying dishes. She worked for years at the dinner, but is no longer able to do so. I found her resting at the craft and bake sale.
My friend Tammy, a native of North Morristown, crafted these caramel crosses and other items for the craft sale.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo
TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASON and a time to every purpose under heaven…
Ever since the pastor read Ecclesiastes 3: 1 – 13 as a scripture reading last week at my church, I’ve pondered the words in verse 7: …a time to be silent and a time to speak.
How do you know? How do you know when to remain silent or when to speak?
I understand a time to weep and a time to laugh and a time to mourn and a time to dance. Those are easy. But how do you decide whether to open your mouth or zip your lips?
Taking that a bit further, how do you decide when to act or when to allow things to unfold as they may?
I believe that we are sometimes called to act and/or to speak. But how do we determine when we should talk or take action? President Obama, for example, recently stated in the aftermath of the deadly shootings in Oregon that “our thoughts and prayers are not enough.” I believe firmly in the power of prayer and I pray daily. Yet, I agree with the President. (I’m not taking a stand on gun control here, just the need to “do something.”)
As parents, especially, we struggle with how much we should say, if anything. It is easy when the kids are little. We are, mostly, able to curb negative behavior, keep our children from danger, and guide them by our examples, discipline, love and care.
Then our children grow into adulthood and they are in charge of their lives. We have given them, as my friend Kathleen says, “roots and wings, roots and wings.” How, then, do you determine when to speak or to remain silent? If your adult son or daughter was trapped inside a burning building, you wouldn’t just stand there and do nothing simply because they are adults, would you? I’m oversimplifying. But you get my point.
Have you witnessed a situation involving strangers that requires an instant decision? Speak up or remain a silent bystander. Recently, while attending a community event, I watched an angry young mother rage at her daughter. Yanking and yelling. I felt my blood pressure rise as the preschooler cowered in her mother’s presence and slunk into a corner behind a door. If the mother would have pushed an inch further, I would have intervened. I decided not to inflame the situation and was eventually able to comfort the young girl with soft words of kindness. Later I witnessed the mom once again yelling at her passel of children. And I wondered if she treats her children like this in public, how does she treat them at home? And why was she seemingly so overwhelmed? What was she dealing with in her life?
I don’t mean to judge. But you see the dilemma. Determining whether to speak or to remain silent is not always black-and-white clear.
Thoughts?
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
My meal at a previous Trinity North Morristown dinner, minus the bread and cranberries. I had cake for dessert, too. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
IT IS THE SEASON of church dinners in Minnesota, which is why I’ve deviated today from the usual Minnesota Faces series to Minnesota Food.
This Sunday, October 11, Trinity Lutheran Church North Morristown, a rural parish in western Rice County, hosts its annual fall harvest dinner. I’ve been to many church dinners and this one ranks as my favorite.
Everything served here is homemade from the garden-grown potatoes and squash prepared in the church basement to the dressing, bread and more, all served with turkey and ham.
It’s a feast. And one served in good company by rural folks who welcome and engage you in friendly conversation. Go for the people, experience and setting as much as the food.
Serving begins at 11 a.m., shortly after the 9:30 a.m. worship service, which I’d also encourage you to attend. There’s something about worshiping in a small country church surrounded by farm fields that focuses thoughts on thankfulness for the harvest and all the blessings of life.
Besides the dinner, which runs until 1 p.m., Trinity also hosts a bake goods, produce and craft sale in the back room of the church basement. More goodies from gardens and kitchens plus handcrafted items.
Cost for the dinner is a reasonable $10 for ages 13 and older; $5 for ages 6 – 12; and free for ages 5 and younger.
You will leave feeling stuffed and blessed.
FYI: Dinner planners are looking for people to peel potatoes beginning at 8 a.m. Saturday.
TELL ME, DO YOU FREQUENT church dinners and do you have a favorite?
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
The Basilica of Saint Stanislaus Kostka, named after a popular saint from Poland, is so massive I could not get the entire basilica in a photo. It’s located at 625 East Fourth Street in Winona, Minnesota.
UNOFFICIALLY, PARISHIONERS CALL the basilica St. Stan’s. I like that. It seems fitting in an age when the current pope, Pope Francis, has connected in an everyday sort of way with the faithful, Catholic or not.
The basilica includes stunning stained glass windows. There are many other buildings in Winona which feature stained glass, including Tiffany stained glass. This river town is also home to six stained glass studios.
I am Lutheran. But denominational affiliation matters not when touring a beautiful house of worship. Or appreciating a man who oversees with a blessed sense of ordinariness. Several weeks ago my husband, a Catholic turned Lutheran, and I visited the Basilica of Saint Stanislaus Kostka, aka St. Stan’s, in Winona. Touring churches interests us from multiple perspectives.
Students file in for morning Mass.
An altar boy prepares for Mass.
The stained glass windows are incredible in their sacred symbolism and beauty.
We arrived at St. Stan’s shortly before a children’s Mass, leaving us to observe from the balcony the reverent holiness of an altar boy lighting a candle, the filing of elementary students into pews, the light of a sultry summer morning filtering through stained glass windows.
Lovely morning light filters through stained glass onto the curved balcony railing.
A statue is tucked into a corner below stations of the cross.
The paintings inside the dome are exquisite in their detail.
The bread and the wine before they are carried to the front of the sanctuary.
Polish words on a stained glass window translate, according to Google translate, to “”Association of the Children of Mary.”
I stood there in awe, swinging my camera lens toward marble pillars and stained glass, statues and crucifixes, curving wood and paintings, Communion wafers and words in Polish.
The upper portion of the basilica at its main entry.
This is a church of Polish immigrants. Built in 1894 – 1895 of brick and stone in Romansque style (in the form of a Greek cross) by the Winona architectural firm of Charles G. Maybury & Son, the basilica is on the National Register of Historic Places.
With its designation as a basilica, St. Stan’s also received a crest symbolic of important events in its history. Click here to learn about the crest.
Not knowing the difference between a regular Catholic church and a basilica, I learned from online research that a basilica has received special privileges from the pope. St. Stan’s rates as a minor basilica , the 70th in the U.S. and only one of two in Minnesota. (The other is the Basilica of Saint Mary in downtown Minneapolis.) The title ties to the extraordinary architectural quality of the building and to the congregation’s significant Polish heritage, according to a 2011 press release from the Roman Catholic Diocese of Winona announcing the designation by the Vatican.
The stained glass windows truly are religious works of art.
The stairway to the balcony features incredible craftsmanship.
Massive marble pillars impress.
Terminology and privileges aside, this is one impressive house of worship. It’s artful and splendid. Reverent and meaningful. Personal, yet powerful in its sheer size.
I expect many a worshiper has found comfort in these stained glass windows.
This massive place holds generations of family history. Imagine the sins confessed and forgiven here, the blessings bestowed, the holy water sprinkled, the families who’ve grieved and celebrated within the walls of St. Stan’s.
The priest is about to proceed up the aisle to begin Mass.
To witness the next generation in worship on a Friday morning in God’s house reaffirms for me that the faith of our fathers remains strong. Just like this aged basilica in the Mississippi River town of Winona.
BONUS PHOTOS of the exterior:
A back view of St. Stan’s.
Angel art atop a tower.
Roof details.
The main entrance.
And the landmark dome.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
HAVE YOU EVER TRIED to coax a cat onto a pumpkin? It is difficult at best.
I am not a cat owner. But I grew up with farm cats, simply calling, “Here, kitty kitty,” and the felines would come running. They did not, however, appreciate any attempts to dress them in doll clothes and then plop them into a doll buggy.
The sprawling garden includes pumpkins and popcorn.
That “here, kitty kitty” tactic did not work with Gretchen, who belongs to friends, Jeff and Mandy. My bible study group gathered recently at their rural Faribault acreage. We always socialize for an hour before digging into our study. And on this perfect late summer evening in Minnesota, we surveyed Mandy’s garden. Gretchen meandered with us among the vines and rows.
Hannah’s sunflowers
Mandy grows vegetables that I’ve never seen grown—like kidney beans and burgundy beans and tomatillos. This year she’s had help from Hannah, a teen who wanted to learn gardening.
Jeff coaxes Gretchen…
…onto the pumpkin.
Hannah planted pumpkins which just kept growing and growing and growing into ginormous orbs. I wanted to photograph them. But I needed scale. Ah, Gretchen the cat would be perfect. So Jeff, kind friend that he is, agreed to lure Gretchen onto a Great Atlantic (or something like that; Jeff couldn’t quite remember the name) pumpkin. Eventually I got an acceptable photo.
Later, Gretchen hopped atop a fence post, providing for more photo ops as the sun edged down:
When the photo shoots and garden tour ended, we began moving toward the house. But we were sidetracked. Debbie and I, dairy farmers’ daughters, checked out the barn. Most of the guys headed to a shed and scrounged in a scrap metal pile. Steve, the artist among us, found metal for art projects and a trough that will work as a flower planter. Then Mike and I waded through tall grass with Mandy, aiming for the wood pile. There we rooted out wooden boxes. Mike also found scrap wood for his oldest son’s May wedding.
The barn rises high above the garden.
One person’s junk is another’s treasure.
The top of the silo and the barn roof.
What a fun evening it was, first touring and photographing the garden and Gretchen, then picking, then gathering around the kitchen table with dear friends to study, to share and to pray. I am blessed.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
My great niece Kiera painted this stone, which I got at a recent family reunion. It now sits on my office desk as a treasured reminder of hope.
HOPE.
It is sometimes an elusive word, missing from the sentences of our days, deleted from our lives, absence from our thoughts.
Life situations and difficulties and challenges overtake us. Stress and worry weigh upon us, squashing hope. Peace vanishes.
But then something changes. A friend encourages. You read uplifting words. A song—what if your blessings come through raindrops—strikes a chord of hope.
Hope begins to ease back into your days, into your thoughts, into your outlook. You see, read and hear hope: Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. (Romans 12:12).
The stressors may remain. But now you hold hope, sweet sweet hope.
© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Recent Comments