Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Happy birthday to my adventurous, big-city daughter February 10, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:28 AM
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Amber in 1986, sometime during her first year of life. The photo is not dated. A friend told me she looked just like the baby on the Gerber baby food jars.

TWENTY-SIX YEARS AGO today, I joined the sisterhood of mothers at the birth of my daughter.

Now, dear readers, if you’ve read my post from yesterday, you will recall that my son celebrated his 18th birthday just yesterday.

What are the chances of giving birth to two children one day shy of eight years apart? I have no idea. (My other daughter was born in November.)

But back to the daughter who today turns 26, which is now more than half way to 50. I had to toss that mathematical notation in there because, well, through the years I’ve received my share of handcrafted cards from her emphasizing my age.

There, I’ve gotten that out.

On to Amber… How does a mother describe a daughter, explain the depth of love she has for her, reveal the essence of a bond that really cannot be confined to words?

I can’t.

But I’ll share a few observations about the daughter I’ve nurtured and loved and cherish as only a mother can cherish.

She’s a strong, independent woman living and working in the big city. And she loves it. Sometimes I’m still surprised that any offspring of mine would love city life given their rural genetics. Can genes include a predisposition to rural or city? Probably not.

Life for Amber is an adventure, whether organizing a gathering with friends or planning a trip across the country or abroad. I won’t even mention here the trip she is pondering now for fear that writing the words will stamp the journey into reality.

I expect those close to me sometimes wonder, given Amber’s inclination to travel, whether she could possibly be my daughter. Here’s the explanation as to her wanderlust: I purposely raised Amber with a desire to travel, allowing her to go on mission trips and Christian youth gatherings while in high school.  Was it easy for me? No. But sometimes oftentimes a mother sets aside her worries to do what is best for her child.

Amber loves the Minnesota Twins. And I love how, each June, she takes her dad to a Twins game as his Father’s Day gift. They’ve invited me along. I’m not interested in baseball. And even if I was, I wouldn’t join them. This time is best left for father and daughter to savor without my intrusion.

Even at three months, Amber possessed a sense of fashion, wouldn't you say?

Since moving to the city upon her college graduation 3 ½ years ago, Amber’s developed a sense of fashion that suits urban life. She wears hip, but not over the top, attire that exudes confidence and style. Yet, she manages this by thrifting, using coupons and shopping sales. It pleases me that my daughter values the lesson she learned from youth that it’s OK to wear recycled clothing.

This post would not be complete without telling you that Amber is, simply put, a truly nice person. She’s kind and loyal and loving and generous and friendly—to the point where she recently was scolded for being “too friendly.” But we shall not get into that here.

She’s a woman with a deep faith in God. And that, more than anything, is what I desire for any child of mine.

Today I celebrate the blessing of Amber, my first-born, the daughter who always made her dad and me laugh by calling soda crackers “Minnesota” crackers. She says the moniker came from biting into a cracker that then looked like the shape of our state. I say she was confused by the soda/sota.

It doesn’t matter. She still makes us laugh.

Happy birthday, Amber!

I love you.

Mom

I wasn't sure Amber would like this Twins bag I picked up for her as a Christmas gift. But she loved it. The past two years she's worn that ugly Christmas sweatshirt and an equally ugly holiday sweater at holiday gatherings. So please do not consider this her fashion style.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

From LEGOs to college-bound, my son turns 18 February 9, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:35 AM
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Notice the size of Caleb's hand when he was only 1 1/2 days old.

MY SON, my youngest, turns 18 today, a bittersweet day for this mom soon facing an empty nest after 26 years.

Caleb’s officially an adult now. But that doesn’t mean his dad and I will allow him to drive alone to Canada to check out the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg because we don’t have passports and he does. This would be his plan, not ours.

Yes, he’s strong-willed and smart, traits that will take him far in life. Yet those same qualities can frustrate the heck out of his parents who happen to know just a wee bit more than him, even if he doesn’t think that could be remotely possible.

I don’t want to focus on the struggles sometimes oftentimes waged between parents and teens. Rather, I want to celebrate my son. This will sound all trite and mushy and everything. But I value every day I have my boy in my life, even those days that challenge my parenting skills and patience.

You see, in 2006 Caleb was struck by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street to his school bus stop. The panic that seared my soul on that morning is unlike any I’ve experienced. To those of you who have lost children, my very heart and soul ache for you. I cannot imagine a greater loss. (Caleb, by the way, suffered only minor injuries in the incident.)

With that background, you will understand why I tend to turn introspective on my son’s birthday.

This year I decided to pull out a three-ring binder filled with Christmas letters I’ve written through the years. These represent my family’s history, including interesting tidbits about my three children. Not to worry; I won’t give you a play-by-play of Caleb’s first 18 years of life. But I will pull out a few choice stories for your amusement.

Let’s start with his birth 18 years ago. Caleb arrived weighing 10 lbs, 12 oz., and stretching 23 ½ inches long. Yes, he was born via C-section. No, the hospital did not have diapers large enough to fit him. And, yes, I had to return a pack of under-sized diapers that a friend gave me prior to the big boy’s birth.

By age four, my son was taking things apart to see how they work—or asking me or his dad to do so—and was interested in all things space. Those interests continue. Saturday he placed first in the gravity vehicle race and third in the astronomy competition at the regional Science Olympiads. Sunday he dismantled my non-functioning computer monitor which now lies in a heap on the living room floor.

One of my all-time favorite photos of my son at age 5.

During his fifth year of life, Caleb blind-sided me and broke my heart by proclaiming that he loved his kindergarten teacher more than me. But the affair proved short-lived after Mrs. K caught him stuffing green beans into his milk carton at lunchtime.

About this same time, my boy discovered the joys of reading on his own and building with LEGOs. This may seem rather mundane to mention. But I am convinced that his strong interest in books and in LEGOs contributed to his academic success through the years.

By third grade, Caleb was reading books like The Benefits of Bacteria (hey, I’m not making this up) and had chosen his life’s profession as a rollercoaster designer. Today he’s planning a career in computer engineering. See how that works? If you’re the parent of a young child, you can foresee your child’s future in his/her current interests.

In 2005, my husband and I gave Caleb a bow and arrows and made him promise never to aim toward the neighbor’s house.

A year later, deep into computers, he began checking out thick manuals on Java Script and Html from the public library. He was only 12.

During these pre-teen years, Caleb became an accomplished unicyclist who managed to wipe out—enough to prompt a 911 call from a bystander—while riding a two-wheeled bicycle on a public bike trail. Go figure. We took seriously his mantra of “Caleb likes to live life on the edge.”

The following summer he broke his little finger while unicycling. No, he didn’t tumble from the unicycle, but rather jammed his hand into a parked car while riding on our driveway.

Caleb in a senior class picture I shot last fall.

And so, eventually we reach today, 18 years after his birth, to the man Caleb has become. At well over six feet, he towers over the rest of us and delights in reminding his sisters of his height and their shortness.

He’s smart and funny and loving (although I don’t get nearly as many hugs as I once did) and makes me proud. I can’t wait to see what the next 18 years bring for my precious boy, my son.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Once upon a time I was a seamstress February 1, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:13 AM
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spools of thread

Spools of thread in the sewing box I haven't opened in years.

I ALWAYS THOUGHT I’d sew clothes for my family. That was before children, in the days when I was young and had no realistic concept of the time demands of parenting.

I grew up sewing—clothes for myself, dresses for my Grandma who quilted like a mad woman but couldn’t follow a pattern. She quilted while I stitched shapeless dresses for her from polyester and cotton.

Nearly all of the clothing I wore as a teen in the 1970s, I made. Hot pants. Smocks. Dresses. Elephant leg pants, which never fit right around the waist because I was way too skinny. Pajamas. Even underwear, a rather challenging task presented by a home economics teacher who thought we should sew underwear from some slinky, slippery impractical fabric. The project was a failure.

But I digress. I loved to sew—to choose crisp, cotton fabric, and, yes, sometimes even stretchy polyester, from bolts packed onto shelves in the fabric store or in the basement of J.C. Penney in Redwood Falls or in the grocery store/general store in Lucan. The prints were psychedelic pieces of art—bold and crazy and colorful.

I can't state with certainty that this is cotton fabric from the 1970s. I picked it up several years ago at a thrift store because it reminds me of psychedelic 70s prints.

I loved paging through thick catalogs of patterns, choosing just the right trendy design to match manufactured clothes.

While I didn’t particularly enjoy the pinning of tissue paper patterns to fabric or the measuring and cutting process, I loved sliding the fabric across the sewing machine, stitching straight, even lines or easy curves until I’d created something I could wear.

There's a certain satisfaction in guiding fabric under a pressure foot, the needle pumping through fabric.

The ability to sew truly rated as a necessity more than an indulgence in a creative outlet. Our poor farm family couldn’t afford closets full of store-bought clothes. If I wanted clothing, I would need to sew them.

So, with that background, I expected to continue sewing as an adult. When I graduated from high school, my parents gave me a Sears Kenmore sewing machine as my graduation gift. My oldest brother got a car. Yeah, well…

My 1974 sewing machine, a graduation gift from my parents.

Fast forward through college—definitely no time for sewing then, except during breaks back home on the farm. Launched into the working world 3 ½ years later as a newspaper reporter, I had precious little time for sewing.

And so the years passed, until I became a mother in 1986 with grandiose plans of stitching cute little dresses for my first-born daughter. That never happened and I had even less time when my second daughter arrived 21 months later. On a tight time and money budget, I mostly relied on rummage sale clothes to dress my daughters and later, my son.

It’s been years now since I used my sewing machine. Somewhere in the busyness of raising three children and in the economic reality that I could purchase store-bought or recycled for less than the cost of fabric and a pattern, I lost interest in sewing.

I haven’t lost, though, the thrill of walking into the fabric section of a store, perusing the bolts of cloth and running my hands across the woven threads.

And it seems to me that the prints today are bold and crazy and colorful, quite like the psychedelic prints of the 70s.

HOW ABOUT YOU? Did you, like me, sew at one time? Or are you a creative seamstress,  stitching away today?

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What’s your line? January 31, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:53 AM
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WHAT LINES DEFINE your world? Horizontal or vertical?

Perhaps you’ve never considered that question. But ponder that for a minute.

Where do you live? Where do you work? What lines define your environment?

Do you live in the city, the country or a small town? Do you live on the prairie, in the mountains or somewhere in between?

My world has always been horizontal. I prefer it that way—flat and unbroken by vertical obstacles. Towering buildings overwhelm me; make me feel small, visually overpowered and uncomfortable.

Can you understand that? Perhaps if you grew up or live in a rural area, you do.

The sun sets on my native southwestern Minnesota prairie in this December 2010 image.

I traveled to Chicago once during college, and to New York. While touring the garment district in the Big Apple, I was nearly flattened by a vendor pushing a rack of clothing as I paused on the sidewalk to gawk at the skyscrapers. In Chicago, I struggled with sleeping in a hotel that stretched too far into the sky.

A view of the Minneapolis skyline from Interstate 35.

I can’t recall the last time I visited downtown Minneapolis, but I’m certain it’s been decades. I’ve never been to any other big cities and I have no desire to travel to them.

Some of you will say I am missing out on culture and shopping and so much more by staying out of the city. You would be right.

But to counter that, I will tell you many a big city resident fails to leave the confines of the city to explore the small towns and rural areas that offer grassroots culture and shopping and much, much more.

I am not trying to pit city against country, horizontal against vertical, here. Rather, I’d simply like you to think about your world from a visual perspective. Then, tell me, what lines define your landscape? Vertical or horizontal, or a mixture of both?

Even in rural Minnesota, vertical lines occasionally break the horizon, like this scene at Christensen Farms along U.S. Highway 14 east of Sleepy Eye in southwestern Minnesota.

The strong horizontal lines of railroad tracks and trains cross the flat prairie landscape of southwestern Minnesota. I shot this along U.S. Highway 14 between Springfield and Sleepy Eye as snow fell late on a March morning in 2011.

Railroad tracks and diggers slice precise horizontal lines across the landscape in this March 2011 image shot while traveling U.S. Highway 14 between Springfield and Sleepy Eye, in my native southwestern Minnesota.

I live in Faribault, an hour's drive south of Minneapolis along Interstate 35. While I certainly don't consider Faribault, with a population of around 22,000 to be a small town, it's definitely not urban. I shot this pastoral scene last spring several miles west of town near Roberds Lake.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When your day fails to go as planned January 27, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:30 AM
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I RECENTLY READ somewhere—and I read a lot—if you want to make God laugh, plan your day.

Well, God must have been rolling on the floor, laughing until he cried and his belly hurt on Thursday because I had one of those days. You know, the kind that veers completely from your intended course of action.

My main goal for the day was to finish pulling together financial information for the professional who completes our taxes. Now those of you who know me, either personally or via this blog, realize how much I detest numbers. Math whiz I am not. And to add to the stress this year, I once again need to file a Free Application for Federal Student Aid after a two-year respite. I despise forms, especially when numbers comprise the bulk of the required information.

I never got to the numbers on Thursday.

Rather, I spent most of my morning researching information for a document my husband needs for a church meeting on Sunday. I’m happy to help him, but I never thought the project would consume hours of my time.

I expect God was getting a chuckle out of that, his subtle reminder that perhaps I should give just a little more of my time to him.

The rest of the day slipped away in work-related issues with precious little time for writing.

Have you noticed the repeat of the word “time” in all three of the above paragraphs? Why am I so obsessed with time?

Despite my day failing to go as planned, I knew I had a delightful evening ahead. My husband and I had been planning for weeks to attend a presentation by Minnesota photographer Doug Ohman who has published a series of “Minnesota Byways” books.

But then, 50 minutes before Ohman’s talk, my husband called. The car had broken down on his way home from work and he needed a ride and a tow.

Long story short, we missed Ohman’s 6 p.m.presentation. (Who chooses these times anyway?)

After a late supper, kitchen clean-up and e-mail catch-up, I finally kicked back in the recliner to finish the final chapters in Still Standing: The Story of SSG John Kriesel by John Kriesel as told to Jim Kosmo.

About then, God must have been muttering to himself, “Well, she thinks she’s had a bad day…”

He was right, of course. Put in the perspective of all the problems and tragedies a day can bring, my Thursday rated as just fine, thank you. My legs weren’t blown off in a roadside blast. I wasn’t fighting to live. None of my friends had been killed in Iraq.

Minnesota National Guardsman Kriesel had dealt with all of that and managed to overcome, to be positive, to move forward with his life. His story is about as inspiring as any you’ll ever read.

And then, when I finished that book Thursday evening, I picked up Conversations with the Land by Jim VanDerPol, a Chippewa County farmer and writer. I’m only a few essays into his book, but already I appreciate the approach he takes to the land and to life in general. He pauses to notice, to savor, to value his land and his role as tender of the earth. His writing resonates with me, reconnects me to the prairie of my youth, the land that still influences my writing.

And so my Thursday ended and a new day has begun with a sunrise so splendid that my husband called to tell me about it, as he often does when the morning sky is especially beautiful.

The remnants of today's sunrise as viewed from my office window.

Several weeks ago, I started penning this poem after pausing to watch the sunrise:

Jam on toast

My fingertips lift within a mere whisper of the keyboard

as I halt, half-thought, words interrupted mid-sentence,

to tilt my head toward the window and the sunrise

spreading gold and pink across the sky like jam on toast.

#

In that morning moment, I want nothing more

than to dip my fingers into the jar of dawn,

to sample her sweetness, to taste of her earthy goodness,

to delight in sunshine and rain and succulent fruit plucked from vines.

#

PERHAPS TODAY should be the day I finish this poem.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Did they crown her with a ……….? January 16, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:58 AM
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SATURDAY EVENING while flipping through television channels, I came across the talent portion of the Miss America Pageant.

I have not watched this competition in years so, when I saw that Miss Wisconsin was still in the running for the crown, I remained tuned in. I had to root for the Midwest girl. And now that my second daughter lives in eastern Wisconsin, I also have taken a greater interest in Minnesota’s neighbor.

When Miss Wisconsin, 23-year-old Laura Kaeppeler, was crowned Miss America, I fired a text off to my daughter.

ME: Miss Wisconsin was just crowned Miss America.

I photographed this couple modeling cheesehead hats in a Wisconsin cheese store last spring.

DAUGHTER:  Was she wearing a green dress w/ a yellow sash? Did they crown her w/ a cheesehead instead of a tiara?

(Note, dear readers, that I am, at this point, laughing so hard that I can’t immediately text back. My daughter is, of course, referring to the gold and green colors of the Green Bay Packers and to the popular cheesehead hats worn by many a Packers fan. Since we were on a humor roll, I decided to tell a little fib.)

ME:  She has a big G tattooed on her shoulder.

DAUGHTER:  Are u making that up?

ME:  What do u think? U live in Packerland.

DAUGHTER:  Lol. Well it was probably a wash off one then.

ME:  Maybe.

(Dear Wisconsinites, I know you possess a sense of humor or I would not have shared this exchange with you. I love your state and your Packers mania and your cheese and your Spotted Cow beer and your cranberry wine and your old barns and small towns and historic buildings and beautiful, changing countryside…)

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When a mother passes her dislike of shopping on to her son January 13, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:44 AM
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I AM THE RARE WOMAN who dislikes shopping. And I suppose, because of that, I am partly to blame for my teenage son’s lack of interest in shopping for clothes.

But it had gotten to the point where, day after day, he was wearing the same nondescript gray sweatshirt—the new one I gave him for Christmas—over a plain-colored t-shirt.

Finally, one day last week, I advised him that I needed to wash the sweatshirt and that he would have to choose another clothing option. The look he shot me at 7:37 didn’t exactly start my day with a “Good morning, Mom, I’m happy to see you” greeting.

I should mention here that my 17-year-old is not a morning person. Not at all. I have found it in my best interests to limit conversation with him any time prior to 10 a.m.

After this recent morning wardrobe exchange, I decided my teen simply needed to acquire additional clothing. After all, what must his classmates and teachers think with him wearing the same sweatshirt every day? Therefore, we needed to make the dreaded, long-avoided shopping trip.

Shopping success: A $60 hoodie purchased for $21.

So last Sunday afternoon we went clothes shopping. After about 1 ½ hours, which is an hour beyond my browsing limit, he had a new sweatshirt, three complimentary t-shirts and three flannel shirts. Success at only $58 sale prices.

Much to my surprise, my son handled the excursion without complaint, which might just be a first for him. I’ll be honest here and tell you that I understand my high school senior’s shopping frustration. He is tall, well over six foot—I’ve lost count of how many inches—and slender. He needs tall sizes for arm and body and leg length, but not for body girth. That presents a challenge whether he’s searching for shirts or for pants. Nothing fits him right.

It’s the same problem I had as a tall and slender teen. The “tall” part is still an issue for me. Honestly, every woman in this world is not average or petite in height and I am constantly frustrated by the limited choices for 5-foot, 8 ½-inch women like me who do not wear plus sizes.

So if you see me repeatedly wearing the same attire, my reasons are three-fold: I detest shopping, can’t find clothes that fit right and refuse to pay a pretty penny (aka full retail) for clothing.

Yup, I suppose I truly am to blame for my son’s avoidance of shopping and limited wardrobe.

IF YOU’RE THE MOTHER of a teenage boy or have raised one, what has been your experience with clothes shopping? I’ve tried the route of buying clothes for my son, but that rarely works. Either they don’t fit or he doesn’t like them or both. Help.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Christmas fun with the family December 28, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:12 AM
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CHRISTMAS WITH THE KLETSCHERS could never be termed as uneventful. Thanks to my fun-loving family (typically led by one especially crazy sister), we are always assured that our time together will be laced with laughter, love and a few surprises.

This year the party planning sister arrived at our middle brother’s house on the southwestern Minnesota prairie with an armful of vintage hats for the women, and occasionally the men, to wear. We were remarkably chic. Not a single hat resembled the hideous ribbon-style fascinator sprouted by Princess Beatrice at Prince William and Kate Middleton’s wedding. We Minnesota women possess far better taste than English royalty.

My party-planning sister and her daughter in their hats. My niece's hat is actually a re-purposed baby birds hand puppet that matches her mom's bird nest hat.

I suggested my eldest daughter start a new fashion trend in Minneapolis with her hat.

A few of the guys, including this unidentified family member, briefly wore vintage hats.

I can’t say the same for all attire worn at the holiday gathering. At one point my eldest daughter donned a Christmas sweater, duly admired by her grandmother who likely did not realize the sweater was a joke.

Look to the center of this image and you'll see my sister in her Grinch outfit ready to lead us in the gift exchange.

However, we all roared at the outfit my sister slipped into for the entertaining gift exchange that involves much hoopla and swapping of presents. Only this sister could carry off wearing a Grinch shirt with such fashionable flair.

My fun-loving middle brother suggested this photo op contrasting the modern Kindle with the antique crank wall telephone. There's also a crank phone in the basement and sometimes we pretend to call from the basement to the upstairs, shouting as loud as we can.

Later, a Kindle quickly became a source of entertainment for, ahem, those of us who’ve never seen such technology.

Santa surprised us all. Much laughter and many hugs and lots of photos followed.

Santa swooped in for a surprise visit, bringing back memories for the 20 – 30-something age group who remember past family Christmases with the old young jolly man in attendance.

For the second Christmas in a row we gathered outside for...sorry can't tell you.

We topped off the evening by shrugging into our winter coats and gathering outside the garage for…well…I can’t reveal that part of our family celebration. Suffice to say you would be impressed.

HOW DOES YOUR FAMILY make Christmas fun and memorable? Let’s hear. We’re always open to new entertainment options.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My family still believes in Santa December 26, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:02 AM
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Santa poses with my mom and the younger generation at a family holiday gathering on Friday evening.

AGE MATTERS NOT. Not one bit. Not when it comes to Santa.

He’s still magical, whether you’re 12 or 79 ½ or any age in between.

Friday evening, 24 hours before his busiest night of the year, Santa blew into a rural Redwood County residence on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, arriving so unexpectedly that he nearly rocketed a sister-in-law of mine straight out of her chair to the North Pole.

With a rapid drumming on the dining room window, he startled more than a few family members before slipping through a patio door into our holiday gathering.

The oldest family member surprised by Santa's visit, my 79-year-old mom. I should mention that my mom typically does not wear a fancy hat. But my middle sister started a tradition this year of all the women wearing fancy vintage hats. She brought enough for all of us to wear and it was great fun.

The youngest family member in attendance, my 12-year-old nephew, clearly enjoyed Santa's visit, too.

Hugs and handshakes and laughter and good-natured ribbing and even a kiss, followed by countless photos with Santa, defined the surprise visit now imprinted upon our memories.

I love this about my extended family. We don’t allow age to define our fun.

We still believe in Santa.

Santa made the rounds, greeting each family member, except my middle brother who had vanished.

My son and eldest daughter had their picture taken with Santa. My other daughter was unable to make it back to Minnesota for Christmas because she was working at her job as a Spanish medical interpreter in eastern Wisconsin.

Then Santa waved goodbye...

...and magically disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

HOW ABOUT YOU? What crazy things does your family do at Christmas time to build memories? Does your family still believe in Santa?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In praise of old, familiar Christmas hymns December 25, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:19 PM
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The doll representing the Christ Child during the Trinity Lutheran Sunday School program on December 17.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in as long as I can remember, I missed Christmas Eve worship services. We were traveling home from a family gathering in southwestern Minnesota.

So this morning, back in Faribault, my husband, eldest daughter, son and I attended Christmas Day services at Trinity Lutheran Church in Faribault.

While a morning worship service doesn’t hold quite the mood-setting anticipation of worshiping on Christmas Eve with candles glowing soft and white holiday lights sparkling bright in the fading daylight and kids restless with excitement, I appreciated the contentment of singing old, familiar hymns on Christmas morning.

From the opening “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful” to the recessional “Joy to the World,” and many songs in between, I was reminded of all those childhood Christmas Eve worship services at St. John’s Lutheran in Vesta.

Dad hurried to finish the milking early so we could get to church, to participate in the Sunday School program and sing the same old, familiar hymns we sang today: “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” “From Heaven Above to Earth I Come,” and “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

Although we didn’t sing “Silent Night, Holy Night” this morning, we listened to a teenage girl coo a sweet, lovely rendition. And we heard another teen strum “What Child Is This?” on his guitar.

It was a lovely service of praise, voices uplifted in the joyful comfort of aged hymns to celebrate Christ’s birth.

From my family to yours, we wish you a most blessed Christmas.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling