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Writing

A Day of Prayer and Fasting

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raised fist painted in the two-tone blues and white north star of the Minnesota state flag

Unlike that classic line from Star Trek, proclaimed in synthesized Borg speech, that “resistance is futile” I still believe that resistance can effect change. It may be a Pollyanna-like personality flaw but, even in these uncertain days when thousands of armed, masked men terrorize Minnesota streets more reminiscent of a gun toting, wild west movie than 21st century modern life, I need to believe hope is not pointless.

Today, on this day of prayer and fasting, I will join thousands around my state in non-violent moral action. We will gather by ones and twos and thousands with the message: Ice Out of Minnesota NOW! Prayer vigils will be held from Bemidji to Blue Earth, in Mankato, Minneapolis, and Moorhead, as well as my town of Rochester. With rallies and marches, despite dangerous frigid temperatures; with fasting and prayers offered heavenward we send the message that the terrorization of quiet residential neighborhoods must stop. We send the message that trolling school yards is unacceptable. We send the message that using kindergarteners as bait to then ship father and five-year old Liam to Texas is wrong.

In the past, I always felt comfortable and proud expressing my constitutional rights. I believed that our most revered public text – the Constitution and the Bill of Rights – would keep me safe. I believed my First Amendment rights of free speech, assembly, and petitioning the government would protect me. I believed, as a gray-haired, white female, I would never be perceived as a threat. The shocking violent murder of Renee Good in Minneapolis disproved my hypothesis that my age and the color of my skin will see me home safely.

A natural reaction would be to stay home, tucked in like a child after a bedtime story. But no matter how snug the blanket may be, there are still wild things under the bed, and those monsters are shredding our representative democracy. And so, I join other Minnesotans and supporters from around the country to say: Ice Out of Minnesota NOW!

Writing

Labyrinth: a meditation on resistance in troubled times

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stone labyrinth set in a grassy meadow framed by tall trees

Three hundred ninety-eight stones planted on a grassy Rochester hillside.

Three hundred ninety-eight stones laid from outside to inside in a gentle arching path – a single path intended to provide a walker with a quiet, meditative journey. One sweeping movement – a unicursal path. And, even as it winds back and forth, that one-way is clear, never a maze of confusion.

I thrust the tip of my shovel between grass and concrete. Time and dirt, weight and roots resist my efforts. Another thrust, a little deeper, and the tempered steel blade coupled with the force of my muscle breaks the resistance and the stone moves. Another thrust with the shovel edge more deeply planted, the ground as fulcrum, and the concrete paver is free. I step to the next and repeat the process, breaking resistance another 58 times.

With gentle force we broke the earth’s resistance. We moved three hundred ninety-eight labyrinth stones from a grassy hillside. Now they rest on a different hillside while we wait for warm days to lay another circular path that will encourage quiet contemplation of resistance and resilience.

Photo credit: First UU Building Our Future-Beyond Ourselves, 2025

Reading · Spirituality

A New Year Reflection on Hope

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If asked to summarize my feelings about the year just ending, I would admit 2025 did not inspire confidence even as our personal lives were less chaotic and pessimistic than most.  However, just hours into this new year I am struck by the number of references I am finding on the theme of hope. Here are three –

This morning, I discovered an upbeat article in a most unusual source, The New York Times, where author Lauren Jackson urges the reader to move from cynicism to hope.  She cites research conducted by the Hope Research Center at the University of Oklahoma which specifies that hope is “one of the strongest indicators of well-being.  It helps improve the immune system and aids in the recovery from illness.”  Chan Hellman, Director of the Center, goes on to say, “while optimism is the belief that the future will be better, hope is the belief that we have the power to make it so.”

Today’s musical earworm is a favorite winter hymn, Come Sing a Song with Me, included in the Unitarian Universalist hymnal with words and music by Carolyn McDade, ©1976.  And, when we join in song, the chorus predicts: 

And I’ll bring you hope when hope is hard to find, and I’ll bring a song of love and rose in the wintertime.

And to conclude my triad on hope, I will give a nod to fellow bloggers, Bonny, Kat, and Kym who regularly offer poetic inspiration in A Gathering of Poetry every third Thursday of the month.  While I know it is only the first and not the third, it is a Thursday, so I am sharing an original composition by Jane N., age 9.  As we move into 2026, may we skeptical adults take inspiration from the children in our midst.

Hope

Hope winds its way
Through the branches of the bare trees 
Like silk ribbon.
 
It snakes through the villages
 And into the homes of the people. 
It settles into their hearts 
Lighting the way.
 
Hope.

I am enjoying my holiday and starting this new month with a cup of Chocolat Vitale made from Belgium and Swiss chocolate and curled up with my copy of Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver ©2017. 

Happy New Year and may your days be healthy and hopeful. 

Other items of interest · Spirituality

Christmas Eve Reflection

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deep blue background with frosted plants in the foreground

I try and fool myself into believing that I am skipping news broadcasts because of my busy calendar. A schedule that included months of preparation for a move and then unpacking our life here on Solstice Place. And, once those tasks were complete, I shifted into everyday routines of knitting, baking, cleaning and, sometimes, even writing. Activities that admittedly require a degree of concentration and therefore provide a quasi-believable excuse not to turn to 24/7 reporting. But, if I am honest, my lack of attention is not attributable to mundane tasks, rather a weary knowledge that once I turn on the radio or the TV I will learn of yet another unthinkable injustice.

With lifelong experience living in the Midwest, I know the briskness of December. This is why I bundle up for my daily walk down the block to the neighborhood mailbox. I know that the winter temperatures in Minneapolis, St. Paul, or other quadrants of Rochester are certainly no warmer than at my doorstep. Yet, news coverage shows early morning raids by masked ICE agents as they remove Minnesota residents from their homes without coats, hats, or mittens. The recent scenes of a woman pinned down in the snow and dragged through the street prompted a public statement from Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara in which he said, “This egregious disregard for human dignity is appalling. It is deeply concerning that there appears to be a lack of accountability from our federal partners.”

Such masked behavior is not limited to Minnesota’s major cities; it also occurs in Rochester. Recently, an immigrant chef who, just months ago, prepared my dinner was taken into ICE custody. This is a man seeking asylum in order to escape Ecuadorian gang violence, violence that caused him to be shot in the head when, as an independent restaurateur, he refused to pay protection money. His location, well-being, and legal status are currently unknown to his family or to the church members who are sponsoring his legal efforts to navigate our complicated asylum process.

During this Christmas season when the gospels recount this ancient, yet well-known story, I can only wonder what might happen should there be another family seeking refuge on this oh holy night with stars brightly shining. 

Joseph went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem, the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and placed him in a manager, because there was no room for them at the inn.
Luke 2:4-7

Photo credit: pexels-pixabay

Spirituality

A Sunday Reflection on Hope

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large stone gate at Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam

During my library career a favorite activity was introducing new library boards to their responsibilities. And, not just those duties required by Minnesota statutes, but those responsibilities entrusted to them as caretakers of a community jewel. While there are certainly those individuals who seek such an appointment (especially these days) with a goal of controlling the collection or banning certain books, over all the years, I found most people were interested in doing good within their community. People who believed in the importance of reading, the importance of a safe place, the importance of lifelong learning. They rarely recognized it, but library trustees are individuals of hope. After all, who but a person with hopes for the future builds a library, or a school, or a church? Who but a person hoping for positive change spends time and money supporting something that they might use only for a brief time but builds beyond themselves?

Acts of hopeful resistance take many forms:

  • When Richard and I submitted our Breaking Ground pledge form so that we can do just that this spring – break ground at Eliza Place.
  • When the offertory plate is passed and the funds we collect go out the church door to be shared with our social justice partners.
  • When we don our gold scarves and Side With Love t-shirts, whether on a sunny summer day or a frigid afternoon.
  • When we work side-by-side, shout out the injustice and work for change.

As this hectic month begins and I wonder how I will accomplish all the tasks – which cookies to bake, how to decorate the new house – last weekend’s snowfall served as a reminder to slow down and take a breath. To remember in these days of Advent that we are waiting for the gentle lights of Hanukkah, and Solstice, and Christmas. In these challenging days, I take solace from the poetic prayers of Rev. Victoria Safford, who reminds us we are at:

The gates of hope … The place of resistance and defiance.
The piece of ground from which you see the world
Both as it is and as it could be
As it will be;
The place from which you glimpse not only struggle,
But the joy of the struggle.
New House · Writing

Embracing Change: Our Move After 40 Years

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forest green headboard and yellow-orange stained glass lamp shade
whisical car clock, wooden sculpture, and green plant

We kept waiting to be sad. For that tsunami of nostalgia to overwhelm. After-all, we were leaving our first house, our abode of 40 years, where we had celebrated the births of nieces and nephews and mourned the death of beloved family and friends; undertook remodeling and renovation projects, planted and transplanted blueberry bushes and rhubarb, prepared countless meals (the menus for which ran the gamut from a quick bowl of popcorn to gourmet auction prep).

One person suggested that our move was not just a move but a life choice and that distinction felt accurate. This was a decision arrived at over time, necessitated by health challenges and softened by the hundreds of details that comprised our construction project which also served as salve to lighten the mental soreness of loss. While we missed the opportunity of a topping off ceremony on Solstice Place, we carefully monitored construction progress – from the hole in the ground to the final walk-through.  Each visit rooted us in the “rightness” of this change.

We spent a comfortable first night in the new house on September 25. We placed the bed slats on floor, having first put down an old flannel sheet to protect the new LVF (luxury vinyl flooring), followed by the twin springs and the king comfort mattress. The result – a tad lower than sleeping on the couch but higher than a futon. This odd predicament, of being bed-less (that is without a frame) was due to our decision to have the two antique metal bedstead that were once in my Grandma’s house, stripped via glass bead blasting and then dipped to powder coat them a rich forest-green. During their 100+ years, the color has gone from chocolate brown (the color in my childhood, as well as Momma’s memories of her early years in the 4th street house) to yellow, to creamy peach, and now to forest-green. Momma estimates these may have been her parents’ first purchase after arriving in the U.S.A. from Switzerland in July 1922, as by October Grandma was giving birth to Billie and most certainly had a bed for this home delivery.

Now, a month after closing, we have most (not quite all) of the boxes unpacked and flattened. Finding a place for everything has required expanding our decluttering skills yet again and each time we cannot find space we admit that we simply have too much stuff.

Still to be done – placing our eclectic collection of prints, paintings, and objets d’art. Once that is complete Solstice Place will be open for visits.

New House · Writing

We have a hole!

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large trough in dirt with houses in background
bare dirt trough with orange spray paint
large dirt pile and yellow earth moving equipment

Since March 6, when we selected Solstice Place as the location for our new house, we have scouted the neighborhood with a close eye for any progress on our lot. And today was the day for changes! The trenches have been dug for the footings and a nearby pile of dirt rests ready for future grading. Meanwhile, while waiting for the actual construction to begin, our days have been full of decisions, decisions, decisions.

Our first appointment was at the lumberyard for interior and exterior doors, door hardware, windows, and a hand-railing for the front steps.  This visit gave us a sense of what would follow.  With each visit there were offerings as bid and then the possibility to make choices from a broader selection outside the basic budget.  For example:  we were happy with the door levers as bid but opted for a different style kitchen faucet with the cost difference being our responsibility.

The tile store definitely lived up to the “and more” part of its title as we selected birch cabinets, granite countertops, sinks, LVP flooring, and (yes) tile for the bathrooms and the kitchen backsplash.  We needed two visits for all those decisions.  We even stayed within our allowance for flooring and tile but, I must admit, we went a smidge over in the cabinet category.  

As our construction package includes new stainless-steel appliances, we will leave our functional white appliances on First Street. But even at the appliance store there is a lot to consider: slide in or free-standing stove? freezer on the bottom, side, or top? range hood or cabinet fan? Plus, double checking consumer ratings for reliability.

It took two appointments to determine the location of all the disc lights, although we were steadfast in our choice of decorative blue fixtures for the kitchen and dining room, the brushed nickel for the bathrooms, and the exterior, prairie-style lighting.  From lighting we progressed to plumbing – from the kitchen faucet to the shower heads from grab-bars to towel racks the choices we made this morning will (hopefully) be the last, at least for a couple of days.  But, in the meantime — we have a hole!

Writing

Drawn to the Library

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I am a librarian and unabashedly proud of my lifelong career choices. While I was a frequent library visitor as a child, my passion for libraries began when I was ten. During the summer of 1962, between 4th and 5th grades, my mother and a group of her friends worked tirelessly, under the supervision of Mrs. Berlin (the head of children’s services at the public library) to collect and catalog a new school library. It was cobbled together from eight disparate classroom collections and a generous selection of new titles acquired during a successful parish-wide book sale. When school began that fall, along with my best friends Cindy and Jeannie, I began helping in the library after school. As that academic year ended, the PTA sponsored a school-wide contest. I wrote one of the winning essays about the importance of our new library. And, lest you think there as favoritism because Momma was the new volunteer librarian, the essays were submitted anonymously and judged by the PTA officers. I still have the prize – a hard cover copy of the Indian Ocean Adventure by Arthur C. Clarke.

There are those antagonists who claim libraries are no longer needed because everyone can simply buy their books through Amazon. While admittedly a quick source for just about everything from hoses to vitamins, book buying necessitates sufficient discretionary, disposable income. And, even for those of means, there is the practicality of borrowing from the library in solidarity with the 3-Rs – reduce, recycle, reuse.

With nearly five decades of practical experience, I can attest not everything is available through Amazon.

There was the distance learner who was able to complete her PhD. in nursing while employed in a small-town health clinic because expensive medical resources from the University of Minnesota were delivered to her local library though interlibrary loan. Interlibrary loan services that are at risk because the current administration has deemed federally supported intergovernmental library cooperation unnecessary.

The little ones whose caregivers brought them to the library for pre-school storytimes full of stories and pictures, rhymes and alliterations, enhancing early brain development through language.

The students who avoided the dreaded summer slump in reading scores because summer library programs energized curious young minds with books and reading, as well as thematic games and crafts.

The people who filed unemployment claims or submitted job applications at the library’s public access computers because their home situation did not afford internet connectivity, whether because of financial stress or the simple lack of bandwidth in the more rural parts of our state.

With the celebration of National Library Week drawing to a close, remember the times you have been drawn to the library and smile.

Spirituality

Multifaith Lawsuit: Protecting Places of Worship

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gold background with outline of a heart in black with words in white block letters stating side with love

Mennonite Church USA et al. v. United States Department of Homeland Security et al., as filed on February 11, seeks to protect houses of worship as places of grace without government interference. More than two dozen Christian and Jewish denominations, representing millions of Americans, are co-plaintiffs in this lawsuit which asserts that ICE policy violates First Amendment rights of freedom of religion.

Throughout our country’s history, including the first administration of the current President, law enforcement considered churches, schools, and hospitals as “sensitive locations” protected from immigration enforcement. Among the many decrees effective on Inauguration Day, was a memo from the Department of Homeland Security rescinding the “sensitive locations” designation. This change in ICE policy makes way for immigration raids in churches even during religious ceremonies when refugees, asylum seekers, and immigrants might gather. The lawsuit confirms at least one such disruption during worship on a Sunday morning in Georgia.

As someone involved in liturgy, I want to focus on enriching the spiritual experience of participants; to lift the burden of a heavy heart, if only for a moment; to elicit inspiration through spoken words or sung lyrics. This change in government policy creates an unwelcome and unhealthy distraction. Now, I must shift my attention from the sacred to prepare for possible disruption.

The concept of sanctuary can be identified throughout history and across cultures, from Old Testament times to today. It saddens me that we must rely on the courts to determine that churches are different from coffee shops and strip malls. I sincerely hope Mennonite Church USA et al. v. United States Department of Homeland Security et al. is successful in protecting places of worship as holy and sanctified spaces.

For more information:

Press release from the Institute for Constitutional Advocacy and Protection, Georgetown Law, Georgetown Center for Faith & Justice

Press release from the Unitarian Universalist Association

Graphic credit: © Unitarian Universalist Association

Spirituality · Writing

Balancing Dreams and Budget: Pausing our church building journey

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computer generated drawing of building with purple flowers in the foreground, dark roof and biege-brown walls
An exterior view from Locus Architecture following the schematic design phase of development.

I am a pen-and-paper note taker, a behavioral remnant leftover from long-ago college history courses. As we began discussing a new church home, it was natural that I would jot down ideas shared by congregants, whether during large group forums or even while enjoying a one-on-one coffee time conversation. Those notes evolved into an eight-page, single spaced, bulleted list. The ideas range from a visible entrance to natural light in the sanctuary; from an industrial kitchen to chairs with book racks for the hymnals; from energy efficient construction to a dedicated space for young adults. Some requests were overly broad – good acoustics. Others offered minute description – bench seating in the coat room for ease of putting on and taking off boots, with built in AC powered cubby holes to store and charge electric bike batteries during Sunday morning worship. Despite its length, the list contained very few contradictions. Even when there were preferences, for example, one-story versus two, Rev. Victoria Safford’s words captured the overarching sentiment which called for “a building that sits gently on the land.”

After seven years, through discernment, three congregational votes, a successful capital campaign, and reams of architectural renderings, we have a beautiful schematic design. Now we must pause.

There are a variety of factors conspiring against our project: current commercial interest rates are discouraging developers, and the design and location of our current building requires a unique buyer in a niche market. Add to this, the post Inauguration Day chaos and Presidential Executive Orders that, in the stroke of a pen, eliminated significant energy funding, as well as the threats of tariffs that will increase the costs of already expensive building supplies. A pause is prudent. My rational mind acknowledges that continuing to refine the architectural elements would be fiscally irresponsible, but my heart wants to buy a lottery ticket or host a bake sale or two or three. How to reconcile mind and heart?

With our most recent schematic design in hand, I decided to review the list and compare the dream with the elements on paper. In keeping with our vision statement for this land and the building: Do we have a design that will contribute to a compassionate and welcoming environment? How might this space contribute to our justice work? How inclusive have we been of the congregation’s creative suggestions?

Without the benefit of any scientific methodology, I rate our efforts: B+ to A-. The design incorporates many of congregants’ top priorities:

  • Large windows in the sanctuary with a panoramic southern view of the rustic landscape
  • A building footprint that can be expanded east and west to meet growth over the next 100 years
  • Easy workflow in a large kitchen.

Some highly desirable elements such as, the solar array or geothermal heating and cooling, are currently off the table due to cashflow. At best, we will build the needed infrastructure and add these highly-desired energy efficiencies in the future.

The questions that fill my mind these dark winter nights , as well as on snowy-bright days, are less about spreadsheets and the discrepancy between revenue and expenditure but focus on the nebulous side of the human psyche. How do we maintain the congregational momentum that got us to this point? How to convey that this project is like working on a post-graduate degree or taking the vacation of a lifetime, the dream will happen just not next year? How to gain financial support from everyone and spur our generous donors to give more? How to refine the design to realize cost savings without losing the heart and soul of the project?

While I do not wish sleepless nights upon any of my building team members or fellow congregants, we have a hard task ahead. Everyone’s thoughts and creativity will be needed and, maybe even, a lottery ticket.