Holding my love-themed protest sign. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, everyone!
In the spirit of the day, the sign I carried at today’s protest in Faribault focused on one simple message: loving each other.
I could have crafted a sign about a hundred different issues that concern me right now in this country. But I decided instead to keep my message universal.
However, look closely and you will see that the hands I cut from construction paper are black and brown. That was intentional, representing the Hispanics, Latinos and Somalis who live in my community. Many have been racially-profiled by ICE, stopped, questioned. Doesn’t matter your immigration and/or citizenship status. If you’re black or brown, you likely will be stopped. I have no idea how many in Faribault have been disappeared by ICE, but certainly too many.
Back to my sign. I held it proudly at the hour-long protest along Minnesota State Highway 60 by the Rice County government services building. Today brought another 75 or so protesters, including many newbies, to line the block. I pulled signs I’d placed in the back of the van to share with three people who showed up without signs.
If honks and waves are a poll of public opinion, well the reaction from passing motorists has been overwhelmingly supportive of protesters.
It’s OK to disagree with us. But when people start yelling profanities, drive by at a dangerously high rate of speed, “roll coal” and/or give us the middle finger, I have to wonder why they feel so compelled to project such hate.
My message today was all about love. Simple, universal, and perfect for Valentine’s Day. Just love one another.
“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.
The message I left on a park bench in Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS now is love sweet love…and a whole lot more.
But on this afternoon in Faribault’s Central Park, love centers my thoughts. For no particular reason, only that I want to leave a message upon a park bench. An uplifting message crafted from acorns plucked from the grass.
As I gather the prematurely fallen mini acorns, I realize this task will take a while. So I invite Randy to help. He does.
Soon I have enough, not to form the beginning lyrics by songwriter Hal David from the 1965 song made popular by singer Jackie DeShannon, but to shape the singular word, “love.”
Carefully I position each acorn, quickly learning that if I don’t turn them just right, nudging one next to the other, they will roll off the slanted bench seat. Can’t have love disappearing even before it’s become a reality.
Thirty-one acorns later and I’ve written my word of the day. I am hopeful that someone who needs to read that word will find it and feel encouraged, uplifted, loved. We can all use a little (a whole lot of) love in our lives.
A found message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
CALL IT SERENDIPITY, coincidence, even divine intervention. But when I spotted a white stone in a flowerbed at Faribault’s Central Park recently, then flipped the stone to read the words, have faith, I felt with certainty this message was meant for me.
I needed these encouraging words. It’s been a long past several months as I deal with ongoing challenging health issues that sometimes leave me feeling hopeless and in tears. It’s a lot, these layered diagnoses of vestibular neuronitis, Menerie’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy. When symptoms flare, which is often, I wonder if I will ever be myself again. And every time a new symptom arises, I wonder why my body is seemingly under siege. Definitive answers and solutions feel elusive.
Yet, if I reflect on this journey, I can see improvements in balance and my ability to handle sensory input. I attribute those to 3.5 months of vestibular rehab therapy and the prayers of many. Have faith. Those two words are powerful, filled with hope. Hope for better days, better health, a return to life as I once lived it.
#
THANK YOU to you, my blog readers, for your gifts, cards, prayers and words of encouragement. Every caring word and act of kindness uplifts me and makes me feel, oh, so loved. I am grateful for your support, care and concern.
Back when I lived in this region of southwestern Minnesota, I associated the surname Tersteeg with a grocery store in this Redwood County community. My mom shopped there and my siblings and I sometimes accompanied her.
But the obituary was for Robert Tersteeg, 46, of Minot, North Dakota, and a native of Bird Island. Not someone from my home county, but from neighboring Renville County. Still, I read the obituary given Robert’s young age and familiar name.
He died on June 3 at the University of Minnesota Hospital “after a fierce battle with COVID-19.”
Now that could be the end of the story. But Rob’s family—or more accurately Rob—wanted more to be shared about this “vicious virus.” The part that humanizes COVID-19, that reveals the regrets of a man who died from the virus:
Rob’s final wish was that his journey with COVID might save even just one more loving husband, son, father, uncle, friend. Rob regretted not being vaccinated and, immediately upon hospitalization, made Amy (his wife) promise to vaccinate the kids (Nikolai, Olivia, Kaylie).
Saturday morning those who loved Rob will gather for his funeral at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Bird Island. He is not just another number in the statistics of COVID deaths. He was a family man who loved and was loved. And now he is gone, too soon, leaving one final wish—a desire to save lives with his message to “get vaccinated.”
#
NOTE: If you are anti-vaccine, please do not comment on this post. I won’t publish your comment on this, my personal blog. I feel grateful to Rob’s family for publicly sharing his final wish/message in a desire to save lives.
BEAUTIFUL, HISTORIC CHURCHES ABOUND in Faribault. I’ve been inside many, but not all. I appreciate the craftsmanship, the materials, the art, the essence of aged houses of worship.
I appreciate, too, the deep meaning these churches hold for many. The baptisms. The weddings. The confirmations. The funerals. And regular worship. Plus those most blessed of days to celebrate. Christmas and Easter.
For me, church is also about community and family and love and care and so much more. Above all, faith.
Front doors to the church feature paper hearts to show love and support during the pandemic.
Pastor Greg Ciesluk has focused his community outreach this December on coordinating a virtual concert, “Christmas in Faribault 2020,” which is showing at 7 pm Saturday, December 19, on YouTube and local community television. I’m honored to be part of this project via contributing still photos pulled from my blog posts.
I first met Greg in the fall of 2018 when he joined a team working to clear fallen limbs, trees, branches and debris from my friend’s yard following a tornado. Greg lived nearby and showed up, as good neighbors do, to help. Randy and I have been friends with him since.
A COVID-19 Christmas message from Fourth Avenue UMC.
I appreciate his enthusiasm and energy, his care for others (including us and our family), his deep faith, his love for and involvement in our community, his willingness to serve and more. And I also appreciate the messages Greg posts on the sign board that stands on the corner outside his church along Fourth Avenue. I hold a fondness for messages like these. Electronic message signs do not appeal to me. I’m old school like that.
I love the beautiful wreaths, surrounded by hearts and crosses.
In this year of COVID-19, I appreciated Greg’s latest thought. He’s right. Not even a global pandemic can overtake the meaning, spirit and joy of Christmas.
Larry Gavin’s most recent found poem, read recently at a Cannon Valley Poets Poetry Reading at the Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault, caused the audience to burst into laughter. He read a short “looking for work poem” collected from a public space. The poster sought babysitting jobs, but stated she’d rather pick rock. Alright then. A potential babysitter who prefers rocks to children is unlikely to get hired by any parent.
Like Larry, I find publicly posted messages interesting and often humorous. Unlike Larry, I’d never considered those notes as poetry. But I understand why he views them as such.
Inspired by my poet friend, I’ve upped my public message board reading, something I’ve done only irregularly in the past. I was quickly rewarded with a unique note tacked onto a bulletin board at the Salvation Army Thrift Store in Owatonna.
I snapped a photo with my smartphone and then edited out the phone number.
The note inspired me to write this poem:
Missing
She rocks—the cool blonde
with hair sculpted in a do,
stripe ribboned across locks,
eyes shaded behind sunglasses
like Jackie O.
Call if you see her.
She’s missing.
Last seen at the Salvation Army Thrift Store.
TELL ME: Do you read publicly posted messages like Larry and me? If yes, please share an interesting/humorous/bizarre one you’ve spotted.
SOMETIMES I WONDER, what don’t I understand? What am I not getting here?
Isn’t it obvious that when you want to drink a bottle of beer, you need to twist or pop off the cap?
Maybe it’s an attempt at creative and memorable marketing via humor. That must be the reason New York-based Blue Point Brewing prints Please Remove Bottle Cap Before Drinking on a bottle neck label. Website content convinces me this may be the case. I’m not amused by some of the words published there. But then I’m not a New York brewer.
Now take a turn. Tell me why you think Please Remove Bottle Cap Before Drinking is printed on Blue Point bottles. Or tell me about an off-the-wall message you’ve read on a label or on packaging.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Recent Comments