By Jerry Burnes

This story was originally published by MinnPost, an independent, nonprofit newsroom that produces thoughtful, in-depth journalism about civic and cultural affairs impacting Minnesota.

In the basement of Our Lady of Hope Catholic Church in Aurora, a small circle of facilitators gather in white plastic folding chairs as Katie Dagger leads the room in discussion. 

She’s not deterred by the size of the group — that it’s only a handful of volunteers and a reporter — almost relieved, in fact, to have a practice run at the group’s first official meeting. It’s an important chance to iron out the process: to provide support and not advice, how to connect with people, and that laughter — lots of laughter — surrounds the room so nobody leaves feeling as low as they did coming in.

Dagger has waited a long time for this: decades of navigating the mental health world, fighting her own battles with recurring major depressive disorder, and a dozen years of stop-and-start schooling to earn a pair of degrees.

Finally, her calling was answered.

“I’ve lived with the mental health system basically all my life,” Dagger said. “I’ve been going to church for a long time and wasn’t getting the help I needed. Now, I want to be that help. It was on my heart to do.”

The Hope and Trust Mental Health Support Ministry at Our Lady of Hope is in its infancy, but Dagger and the team of facilitators gathered on the seasonably cold late January night see it as a necessary tool for the greater Iron Range and beyond to open the doors for people to discuss mental health.

As barriers to accessing services continue to grind on smaller communities across Greater Minnesota, be it through a lack of nearby providers, broadband deficiencies or the stigmas of mental health care, these locally-based groups can serve as a soft landing spot for those seeking help.

Mental health ministries are separate from professional services and don’t provide diagnoses, counseling or treatment. Instead, they are community-based support groups operated through faith organizations aimed at helping people through their struggles and connecting them with resources. 

“They play a large role in providing support and services to their families,” said Kay King, a program coordinator at the National Alliance on Mental Illness in Minnesota (NAMI) who works directly with faith communities. “There are never going to be enough services offered through city, county, state and federal governments for human services or mental health services. That’s been the case for a long time and still is.”

Greater Minnesota faces a wider gap between residents and mental health providers than the state’s metro region, according to a March 2023 policy brief from the National Association for Rural Mental Health, with about 1,960 people for every provider in rural parts, compared to 340 in urban areas. 

Emily Krekelberg, a farm safety and health educator with the University of Minnesota Extension that also worked on the office’s Rural Stress Task Force, said travel time is among the biggest hurdles to care for people with jobs and families. A provider an hour away means more time driving than they spend at the appointment, but she noted that more options within a half hour drive or virtually can help those reluctant to be seen leaving a counselor’s office in their hometown. 

She added that resources like local mental health ministries and support groups add to the variety of services offered, meaning people can access different types of care to find out what works best for them.

“Most people think of counselors, doctors and prescriptions, which are all important and part of this, but there’s also a gap of ‘I’m not doing well, but not at the point of calling a hotline,’” Krekelberg said. Ministries and support groups can help people with self-education and pursuing self-study rather than routing them immediately to professionals. “What are the things you can be doing for yourself? You’re not ready to call a hotline, so let’s get you to a point where you never call a hotline.”

Faith communities across Minnesota have taken different approaches to addressing mental health support, King said. Some simply dip their toe in the waters and ask NAMI to do a general presentation in person or online. Others employ a faith-based nurse that can lead efforts, or the pastor will focus an annual sermon on mental health. 

Bible studies or book clubs with a mental health theme have surfaced from these conversations, but the big questions of sustainability and the commitment to hosting a ministry ultimately lie within the community.

Mental Health Connect, based out of Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Minneapolis, is an example of one of the most well-established ministries in the state. Like most, it’s non-denominational in how the ministry operates and is highly collaborative. If it is hosting an educational program, its leaders cast a wide net of invitations to faiths outside Christianity and communities outside the seven-county metro. 

“Some organizations want to do more,” King added. “I give them ideas, but it needs to bubble up from there. I can only plant the seed.”

Back in Aurora, the Hope and Trust group was years in the making. They just didn’t know it yet. 

During that time, she constantly felt the pull to give back to the church through a mental health support group and researched the Association of Catholic Mental Health Ministers. Friends and family in Dagger’s life encouraged her to pursue it. It was a calling. She was right for it, they said. So she ran with it.

A devout Catholic, Dagger often sought refuge in the church throughout her own mental health story. A dozen years after beginning school, she earned an Associate of Arts and an Associate of Science in Human Services to become certified to lead groups. 

Dagger met with Bishop Daniel J. Felton at the Diocese of Duluth and he encouraged her to consider the Iron Range, more than an hour from her home parish in Moose Lake. Dagger presented to a group at Our Lady of Hope in Aurora, where Fr. Kris McKusky and parish members were on board with the idea right away. 

After five months of training, setup and promotion, the Hope and Trust ministry was active.

Tom Kolodzinski, a facilitator with the group, said the ministry saw a lot of interest and momentum in recognizing the need for mental health support. People in the community, he added, have pulled themselves out from the stress of the COVID-19 pandemic that forced layoffs and caused illness and death, but also from ongoing drug addiction issues that devastated families, among other factors.

“I don’t know yet if people are searching,” Kolodzinski said. “But if you asked people if they, or someone they know, are dealing with something … I think everyone would raise their hand.”

Dagger hopes this first mental health ministry plants a seed of its own that grows beyond the Iron Range to more isolated parts of Greater Minnesota. After Our Lady of Hope, she wants to move onto a new stop in the next six months. 

A Johnny Appleseed of mental health ministries, as Kolodzinski described her.

“We need to open the doors to people wherever we can,” Dagger said. “There is such a strain on the system that they aren’t able to reach out and connect with everyone. We can be a support to each other. We can support them in whatever their endeavors are.”