Minnesota Prairie Roots

WHEN WE CONNECT, when we give of ourselves, beautiful things happen.

Several months ago, I was the recipient of an unexpected gift. Hours later, I was the giver.

Such moments make life joyful and meaningful, causing us to pause and consider how much our words and our actions matter. For we are, if anything, all alike in our basic humanity. We need each other. We hold the power within ourselves to make a positive difference in the lives of others.

Ann did exactly that for me. I was out protesting, as I am nearly every Saturday morning in Faribault, when Ann showed up with a brown paper gift bag. A little background: Ann lived up the hill from me many decades ago and we’ve since bumped into each other occasionally about town. This winter we reconnected on the protest line.

At the third No Kings Day protest in March, Ann arrived in a vivid 1960s/1970s vintage vibe sweater she’d crocheted. I loved her flower power sweater so much that I blurted, “I need one!” Of course, I really didn’t expect Ann to craft a sweater for me. But she suggested I talk to her again in the fall, when she had more time for crocheting.

Fast forward a month and there was Ann holding that gift bag toward me on the protest line. “I made something for you,” she said. Inside I found not a flower power sweater, but a handcrafted flower power tote bag. Ann’s unexpected gift brought me nearly to tears as I considered the hours she spent crocheting, crafting something she knew I would appreciate and love. And I do.

Ann apologized that it wasn’t a sweater, explaining that she’d made several already and couldn’t tackle another. That didn’t matter to me. I never expected a sweater. So to receive this surprise from Ann, who is an incredibly strong, kind, compassionate and caring woman, meant a great deal to me. I felt enveloped in the warmth of her kindness and love.

Hours later, I extended kindness to a shopper in the produce section of a local grocery store. When I commented on the price of strawberries, Pam (not her real name) and I commiserated over the high cost of groceries and everything in general. That led to a political discussion and venting from both of us about the current administration, the war in Iran and more. I invited my new friend to protest with me on Saturday mornings.

But Pam can’t. She’s a caregiver for her disabled husband. It’s hard for her to leave him, even to shop for groceries. Pam shared more, which I will keep confidential. But it was enough for me to offer her encouragement and to acknowledge the challenges she faces as a caregiver. Her husband was having an especially difficult day, which weighed heavy on Pam. I could see that she needed affirmation, acknowledgment of her feelings, and support.

I could offer all of that to Pam as I, too, have been a short-term caregiver. I didn’t tell her that. This was Pam’s story, not mine. But I tried to uplift her. “Can I hug you?” I eventually asked. Pam accepted my offer. And then we embraced, not in a superficial pat-pat on the back way, but in a tight hug that held the emotional depth of two women who understand the importance of human connections.

Tears brimmed her eyes and mine when Pam told me we were meant to meet that afternoon in the produce department of a local grocery store. I agreed. The cost of strawberries jump-started our conversation. But humanity and my genuine concern for Pam took us beyond casual conversation to a memorable moment. To a hug. Warm and genuine and real. A gift to both of us.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling