Hope showed up when I least expected it…

A moment of hope I carry with me is the blessed day I was late for lunch at the Motherhouse and stopped at a resturant. A young woman was lying unconscious on the ground in the parking lot. A police officer arrived to assist.

I was able to share the Narcan I had in my trunk – something the Columbus Fire Department had insisted I carry in case I ever encountered someone in need. I was 100% sure that would never happen…until it did. I gave the Narcan to the officer, who administered it, and thank God, the woman regained consciousness and lived. It was a close call.

Sr. Pat Twohill, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it…

As Director of the Office of Social Concerns for the Diocese of Owensboro, Kentucky, I had many opportunities to meet people from a variety of backgrounds who modeled courage and faith.

During that time, I visited Kentucky’s death row and met Harold McQueen, an inmate who would be executed in 1997. He came from a dysfunctional family. His father provided him with drugs and no hope for a future that would have a happy ending. He faced more challenges than most people ever will.

He had a spiritual director who provided strong support and led him to become a Catholic.

I was able to call him on the day before his execution. He told me he was not afraid to die because he would have the opportunity to be with “Mother Mary.” He was devoted to Mary and prayed the rosary every day. He now had the courage and faith to face his death with hope for a future with the God of unconditional love. I will never forget that phone call and the moment of hope it gave me.

Sr. Judy Morris, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it…

As a chaplain in the Emergency Department, I attended all the major traumas during my shift. I often stood silently in a corner of the emergency room praying. I felt that I wasn’t really doing anything—until a resident welcomed me back from vacation.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” she exclaimed.

“Why?” I asked.

“Your presence brings peace to the room, and I feel calmer when you’re there.”

In that moment, I realized the importance of presence. She touched my heart and helped me understand that doing is not the key to hope – presence is.

Sr. Barb Kane, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it…

When our Leadership Team was elected to serve the Congregation, we were tasked with building a home for the community. Panic set in, as none of us had the skills for such an endeavor. We had to trust that if the need was there, God would provide.

And God did provide.

Little did we know that the new building would become not only the home of the Dominican Sisters of Saint Mary of the Springs, but also the home of seven congregations of the Dominican Sisters of Peace.

Sr. Mary Faith Geelan, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it…

Each day in the hospital, the priest chaplain visited patients who identified as Catholic. I visited everyone else.

One afternoon, I entered the room of a newly-admitted man named Charles. His wife signaled that he did not want me there, and his expression confirmed it. His admission slip listed “no religion.” When I gently asked if he wanted a pastor notified, he answered sharply, “No.” I laughed lightly and said, “I’m not checking up on you.”

As we talked, I learned he was battling lung cancer. Over time, he shared his story, and I shared mine—that I, too, had walked the long road of cancer and was still standing. Something shifted. The anger faded. When I told him my name—Rosemary—he began to cry. It was his grandmother’s name. When I told him my father’s name was Charles, the walls between us softened even more.

Later, he told me why he had resisted me. As a child, he had been abused by a pastor and had given up on all religion. I told him that while giving up faith might be a mistake, it was also understandable. Hope, I have learned, often begins not with answers but with being seen.

Two weeks later, I met a new patient—a woman whose last name I recognized. She was Charles’s wife. She told me that for years her husband had refused even to touch a Bible, but since meeting me, he read it every night.

I never prayed aloud with Charles. I never asked him to believe. I simply stayed, listened, and shared the truth of my own life. Hope entered quietly, not through words of religion, but through human connection. And sometimes, that is where healing begins.

One day I will learn what happened beyond that.

Sr. Rosemary Hoppe, OP
(From her days as a hospital chaplain in Southeast Texas, between 1989 and the early 2000s.)

Hope showed up when I least expected it…

Tutoring at Siena Learning Center brings me profound hope as I listen to our learners speak of their watchfulness and caution in today’s charged social landscape. Yet they do not stop living their lives. They trust that God will protect them, but they have plans in place. They are sad but realistic. God’s faithfulness and abundance give each person hope.

Sr. Virginia Bruen, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it…

For more than 30 years, I ministered with the Deaf Community in south Louisiana. My faith was deepened one Sunday when I visited the Lafayette community and wondered who would sign the first reading.

To my amazement, the deafblind woman seated next to me stood as her aide guided her to the ambo. Rather than stand behind it, she stood in the open, faced the congregation, and beautifully signed the passage from memory. I later learned that it was her custom to take a Braille copy of the reading home the week before and commit it to memory.

Her love of Scripture and the witness of her faith—surpassing all obstacles—taught me that keeping hope alive is often accompanied by bravery, even when doing what seems impossible.

Sr. Shirley Bodisch, OP

More stories of Hope & Heart

This ministry has taught me that hope looks like the face of a little girl waiting for Santa at our Christmas party. When he appeared and handed her a large bag of presents, her face became a bright beam of joy. Her hope was alive.
Sr. Pat Thomas, OP

Hope became real like never before in late August 2005. Eight of my sisters and I evacuated to St. Catharine, Kentucky, as Category 5 Hurricane Katrina aimed for New Orleans. After the levees failed, Dominicans throughout the United States, congregational friends, and Good Samaritans provided permanent hospitality, financial assistance, and help restoring our flooded residences and the homes of those we served.
Sr. Jeanne Moore, OP

Years ago, I was a nurse to medically fragile children in a facility designed to meet their needs. I worked in a four-bed unit with a respiratory therapist, giving total care and, most importantly, being a hopeful, loving, and joyful presence for each child. In return, they gave me hope and joy as they responded with their smiles.
Sr. Harriet Agnew, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it when Buddhist monks began their Walk for Peace from Texas to Washington, D.C. Following their journey on social media and seeing the number of people who met them along the way gave me hope that peace is possible—one step at a time.
Sr. Margie Davis, OP

In my weekly prison ministry, I witness sparks of hope again and again—especially in men who have been incarcerated for 20, 30, or more years and still look forward to the day of their release, whether it is in three days, six weeks, or twelve years. Their hope, grounded in faith in our living God, is tangible in their joyful, prayerful presence and genuine interest in what is happening in the world today. These men keep me rooted in faith and hope, trusting that, in God’s time, there will be a better tomorrow.
Sr. Esther Calderon, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it.

After completing a term of congregational service, I was given the gift of a sabbatical year. Halfway through, I sensed it was time to discern my next ministry. At the same time, my father—then in his early 90s—was living alone and needed more care. I was the only one of his children living in the same state, so being near him became an important part of my discernment.

I prayed often, asking my mother in heaven to intercede for a ministry close to my dad. I began applying for grade-school para positions at Catholic schools in a nearby city where other Dominican Sisters lived, but I heard nothing back. I kept praying.

One weekend in early June, while visiting my dad, I opened the parish bulletin and saw that my own hometown parish was looking for a para for its small Catholic school. I smiled and said, “Yes, Mom—this doesn’t get any closer than that.” I called the principal, met with the pastor, and everything fell into place.

That fall, I began what became seven years of ministry in my home parish while caring for my father during the final years of his life. I missed community life at times, but those years—being with my dad, living again in my hometown, and serving students, families, and staff—were an unexpected and profound blessing.

Looking back, I can see clearly that Jesus, with a little help from my mother, had it under control all along.
Sr. Charlotte Brungardt, OP

This ministry has taught me that hope looks like our college students at Albertus Magnus College. They are bright, energetic, and reflect God’s love through their diverse community-building and service to a hurting world. They are the hope for our future.
Sr. Cathy Buchanan, OP

In my daily ministry, I communicate with Dominican ministries around the country from my computer, but I also wanted to be where the needs are. I began volunteering at a local food pantry. Despite their difficult circumstances, the people who came for food were friendly, engaged, and offered blessings to those of us who welcomed them. This is a sign of hope in the goodness of all people, regardless of their circumstances.
Sr. Charlene Moser, OP

Recently, I have felt hope while visiting our sisters across the country—from the Northeast to the Northern Cheyenne Nation in Montana, to the Tohono O’odham Nation in Arizona, and many places in between, including our Motherhouses and Care Centers in Great Bend, St. Catharine, and Columbus. Hearing their stories and witnessing their compassion and commitment always fills me with hope. I learn so much from them.

This ministry teaches me that hope looks like loving the people with whom I share life and ministry, praying for compassion, peace, and justice in our world, and remaining mindful of local, national, global, and Earth’s needs.
Sr. Cathy Arnold, OP

Hope showed up when I least expected it on February 10, when I received emails from Catholic Relief Services saying that my advocacy—signing online petitions—helped unlock billions of dollars for international aid that had initially been blocked by Congress. My voice, along with thousands of others, helped change a government policy that will affect lives around the world.
Sr. Kathy Goetz, OP

I have hope when we see successes at the Peace Center in our after-school homework program: good grades, choosing not to play violent computer games, and reminding one another that we do not call each other names.
Sr. Suzanne Brauer, OP

In 2005–06, I worked with the Service Hours program at St. Mary’s Dominican High School in New Orleans. After Katrina, school was closed for the fall semester. When it reopened in January 2006, a student shared her family’s evacuation story. They had stopped at a McDonald’s for lunch, and when a stranger learned they were evacuating, he placed money on their table to pay for their meal.

The student said, “Sister, I felt kind of odd. You all teach us that we’re supposed to be serving others, and here we were being helped by a stranger.” In that moment, I felt hope, realizing she had internalized the Dominican pillar of service.

Campus Ministry also taught me that hope looks like more than 800 students at school Mass, singing their favorite hymns—especially “Light the Fire”—with hand motions and clapping.
Sr. Therese Leckert, OP

Through bereavement ministry, I offered pastoral care to people grieving the loss of a loved one. While I was there to support them, the ministry also helped me experience hope in action: in our sadness, hope opens us to God’s comfort and makes room for peace.
Sr. Bea Tiboldi, OP

Now retired and living at the Columbus Motherhouse, I treasure my walks on the Ohio Dominican University campus. Winter’s heavy snow and bitter cold had made those walks impossible for a time.

When a recent warm-up finally allowed me to go out, I discovered that the snow blocking my path had been cleared—“a miracle?” I wondered. As I breathed in the crisp air and noticed small signs of nature’s resilience, I came upon a large feather from a red-tailed hawk.

To many it might seem ordinary. To me, it was a reminder of God’s ever-moving creation—a gentle promise that life continues and spring will come. Even in winter, hope finds a way.
Sr. Pat Mood, OP

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