Frigid temperatures this weekend prompt cold weather advisories

MPR News helps you turn down the noise and build shared understanding. Turn up your support for this public resource and keep trusted journalism accessible to all. 

Turn Up Your Support

Latest COVID-19 updates in our morning newsletter

Analysis of COVID-19 numbers in Minnesota

 says for the first time in these long, grueling months of the pandemic, things seem to be slowing down a bit. 

Rupert is still treating COVID-19 patients in Methodist Hospital's intensive care unit, a job she took when the pandemic started.  

“It’s a lot less intense. I do believe the vaccine played a role in that,” she said. “Things are looking up."

She's still volunteering in George Floyd Square, with 

 she helped launch in the wake of Floyd's death that provides free preventive health care. It now has a brick-and-mortar location that will soon be a walk-in clinic.

And in the midst of everything, Rupert’s work has earned her recognition and 

. Rupert, who is also a minister, has been, 

, a mainstay in George Floyd Square, helping to plan protests, memorials and other events. 

Rupert said she's navigated feelings of hopelessness, fear — and, on the good days — joy this past year.

Rupert said that range of emotions was on full display on the anniversary of Floyd's death last month.

"It was monumental to see the community come together. To see people who may never have stepped foot in Minneapolis before come together and witness the power of love and faith and community,” Rupert said. 

Rupert said the highs and lows of the last year have brought her clarity on something that gives her hope: That no one person can go it alone, whether it's healing from COVID-19, grappling with the emotional trauma of generations of racism or the everyday stress of daily life. 

One nurse fights two pandemics

People react to the Chauvin verdict

Volunteers turned bus into 'MASH unit' at George Floyd Square. They're not done yet.

It's a revelation Rupert said she had during the worst of the pandemic, lying on her couch, hoping an overnight shift at the hospital would be canceled.

“I must have audibly said, 'I don't think I can go in. It's too much,’” she said.

“And my daughter hears me, and says, 'Mommy but you have to. Because people can't heal themselves.' And I felt this sense of conviction like, yeah. People can't heal themselves. We are needed.”

‘I woke up praying for Jeanette Rupert’

Rupert said another reminder of that need for connection came unexpectedly in January, this time from a complete stranger. One day at work, her manager found her in the break room and handed Rupert a letter. 

It was from Peggy Jones, a woman who lived hours away in Aitkin, Minn., and who Rupert had never met before.  

Jones said she’d heard Rupert on the radio last December and couldn’t get her work, or her commitment to nursing and to helping people in George Floyd Square out of her mind. Jones, who is white, said being hours away from the spot where George Floyd was killed made her feel helpless. 

“I’m not exaggerating when I say that I woke up in the morning, praying for Jeanette Rupert,” said Jones. “Here’s this woman who is just trying to be the hands of Jesus. She just wants to help people and she’s in this situation that she never could have imagined.”

After a few weeks thinking about Rupert, she wrote her a letter.

“I wrote her to say, ‘I just want you to know that I am praying for you. Just know that there's someone out there who’s lifting you up,’” Jones said. 

Rupert said she held on to that letter for days, unsure of how to respond to a complete stranger. It was her mom who finally encouraged Rupert to call Jones. 

“I was overjoyed,” Rupert said. “She said ‘What do you need? I want to help. Do you need supplies?’ But I didn’t know this person. I didn’t want to just jump in with all my needs.”

For weeks, Rupert and Jones talked, Jones always asking if there was anything she could do to help, Rupert always saying she was OK. 

And then, this spring, as Minnesota braced for the trial of Derek Chauvin, the man who killed George Floyd, Rupert realized what she needed was a break. 

Jones quickly arranged for Rupert and her husband to stay in a cabin near her house. 

Rupert says they hiked, spotted bald eagles. Jones and her friends brought meals. And Jones invited Rupert and her husband, who are both deeply Christian, to her Bible study group. 

The women say they were surprised and pleased to find they had so much in common, even though their lives are very different. 

“We’ve made a connection. We understand each other a little bit more,” Jones said. “At the end of the day, it’s about people connecting.” 

Their conversations have veered in and out of race, a conversation Rupert is having a lot these days with her white friends who, she says, are trying to do a better job of understanding what it means to be Black in America. 

"It's the uncomfortable conversation that many people don't know how to navigate. I have friends who are of the dominant culture, who are white, who say, 'I don't know what to say anymore, what words to be using. I want to be sensitive,’” Rupert said. “It can get tiring. However, it is inspiring."

Rupert and Jones talk regularly now, and they both say their new friendship has been an unexpected bright spot in an unprecedented year. 

So in June, Rupert, her husband and their children are heading back up north again, to see Jones and her family again for a weekend of fishing and canoeing. 

How to find a COVID-19 vaccine in Minnesota

Data in these graphs are based on the Minnesota Department of Health's cumulative totals released at 11 a.m. daily. You can find more detailed statistics on COVID-19 at the 

The coronavirus is transmitted through respiratory droplets, coughs and sneezes, similar to the way the flu can spread.

Full coverage from MPR News

How to find your shot in Minnesota

Health

Social Issues

Conversations around race and racial justice

Minnesota News

Twin Cities News

Shows

Morning Edition

NewsPartners

COVID-19

Catharine Richert

Author

More than a year after two epidemics — of COVID-19 and racial injustice — collided in Jeanette Rupert’s world, the nurse and social justice activist says she’s learned no one person can go it alone. It’s a lesson that was underscored for her by a letter from a stranger. 

After a grueling year in the ICU and at George Floyd Square, an unexpected friendship

A woman speaks into a microphone in front of a black and white painting.

After a grueling year in the ICU and at George Floyd Square, an unexpected friendship

Go Deeper.

Like this?