Sister Jenny Talks Away Fear Of Dying

Sister Jennifer Miller is never lost for words when talking to those about to die.

While some family members can struggle, be afraid or agonize, and embarrassed about what to say, Sister Jenny can take charge. And what a relief it is for all those around her.

Joann Schwentker still tears up when she confides how Sister Jenny helped her husband, Jim, before he passed away in 2012. Joann gives her maybe the highest tribute possible for how she aided Jim.

Sister Jenny took away his fear of dying.

She’s been doing that in her wondrous style for countless others the past nine years as the spiritual care coordinator at The John and Betty Charlier Hospice Center in Evansville.

“She’s always had this big welcoming smile and joy on her face,” says Joann. “I felt an immediate connection with her. She was so comforting.

“I told Sister Jenny I was most concerned that Jim’s not ready to go. I just didn’t want him to go with any fear. Shortly after Jim moved into Charlier, Sister Jenny came in the room, and Jim told her, ‘I’m afraid.’”

Joann’s voice cracks as she recalls the hurt. “I never heard him say that before. So Sister Jenny worked with him. She was so fabulous to encourage him and to give him strength to do what had to be done. If he hadn’t had Jenny, it would have been even worse. But it was beautiful in the end.”

Jim hadn’t known Sister Jenny until he moved into Charlier. Yet he trusted her enough to admit he was afraid. And to reach his arms out to her the last time they saw each other.

Joann credits Sister Jenny, a member of the Sisters of St. Benedict of Ferdinand, with providing the spiritual comfort and spiritual leading so sorely needed. “And she helped him overcome his fear. We both got great comfort from her visits.”

Her voice cracks again. The gratitude for Sister Jenny is etched on her face, a look so thankful for what Sister Jenny provided for her husband of 55 years.

“Whenever she came into the room,” said Joann, her voice softening, “she was very present. There were so many times Jim was kind of out of it because of terminal restlessness, but when she would come into the room, he would focus, and he knew she was there. I think he got great comfort from that. I certainly did.

“She always talked so affirmatively to Jim. It made a difference in his mood.”

Tears well up in Joann’s eyes as she recalls Sister Jenny’s enduring presence. What better testimonial could one give someone who brings such service to your dying spouse? 

Sister Jenny functions much like a chaplain, embracing the challenging needs of people about to die, and those of their families. She’s proven to be a comfort and blessing to all.

Lauren Rickelman, Charlier’s development program director, gushes about Sister Jenny’s ability to discuss death with those involved. Lauren has researched society’s inability to talk about death, the reluctance to even say the word “die.”  “I’ve witnessed Sister Jenny saying, ‘Are you ready to die? What do we need to talk about? What’s going on in your life, and are you ready to die?’ Often, it’s the first time someone has said the word ‘die’ to the patient.”

Sister Jenny recognizes the need for the patient to know the truth, so they can come to grips with unresolved issues, mending relationships, or setting up forgiveness.

 “That is SO very critical in her role,” says Lauren. “I’ve observed her with patients and it’s like you see them going, ‘ahh, finally, someone’s being honest with me and telling me I’m dying.’”

Her style is as impressive as the delicate, meaningful words she chooses.

Edmund Higgs, whose wife of 60 years, Hilda, died at Charlier a few months ago, simply said Sister Jenny “was a godsend.”

 “She had the ability to make us realize we had to face it,” says Edmund, a former principal at Evansville Reitz High School. “And you knew through her we could turn to a power that’s greater and find a source of strength you couldn’t find anywhere else.

 “Each time she came into the room was special. She came in with an aura, a glow, a positiveness, bouncy, happy and uplifting. She just emitted warmth. It was a genuinely appreciated service. She reached out to touch the lives of those who needed it, like us. You knew that she was serving her God. That’s her calling.

 “My daughter said Sister Jenny was one who knew how to reach anyone at their spiritual level.”

Edmund talked of the genuine love shown by Sister Jenny, and her big, heartfelt hugs, ones that signified “I love you, you’re a fellow child of God.”

His son, Tom, a counselor at Dexter Elementary in Evansville, was initially opposed to his mother being placed in a hospice, “because you know why you’re there.”

But Sister Jenny’s voice, and her presence of pureness, brought light to the darkness for Tom.

 “I knew it was the right place for my mom to get care and respect,” he said. “Sister Jenny could calm me, inside and out. She was super comforting, a presence of good. She will always be somebody I can never forget.”

Sister Jenny so believes in her ministry she feels people would be lined up to get her job if they knew what it was like.

 “I love nothing as much as working with the very sick and dying,” she says. It shows in how animated she becomes when discussing her ministry. She pumps her arms, smiles repeatedly, giggles, and talks as expressively as can be. But her eyes also redden and moisten, and her face becomes pained, when she talks of some of her experiences.

Yet through it all, it’s easy to see why people want her there when the going gets tough.

She even has an uncanny knack for getting comatose patients to respond.

 “I believe the patient hears. Many times there’s been a response. I can’t explain it. One doctor says, ‘There’s the rest of us, and then there’s Sister Jennifer.’

 “If you talk about somebody as though they’re not there, why are they going to respond? I go to the bedside and say, ‘Mary, Mary, do you know you have a whole room full of people who are here because they love you? That’s pretty neat, isn’t it?’ Usually the patient smiles, nods their head, and family members are stunned. And then they know to do the same thing.”

Sister Jenny takes special pride in being that sort of facilitator, showing the family how to do something new for the patient, rather than doing it herself.

One indelible memory was a man who admitted he didn’t know what to say to his dying mother. Sister Jenny suggested he tell her what he enjoyed in life with her, and what he learned from her. He did. After his mom died two days later, he said it was the best two days he ever spent with her.

When patients lament their life has been a zero, that they didn’t make a difference, Sister Jenny is undeterred. She tells them they have “right now” to do something about it. 

Charlier often receives feedback from families that Sister Jenny’s help was one of the most spiritual times in their life. At a point when they are questioning so many things, and are full of angst and worry, she swoops in and makes them feel like they’re so close to God.

 “She’s like a superstar,” says Lauren, laughing. “When people identify a person with our agency, it’s Sister Jenny, because she epitomizes caring, compassion, the dignity of life, and spirituality, all in one person.

 “My father-in-law was here, he was kind of grumpy, but our family credits her with helping him find peace and forgiveness. She brought a special level of spirituality that meant SO much to all of them.”

Sister Jenny describes her ministry as “helping birth people into God, into the kingdom; it feels more like a birthing than an ending.” Which helps explain her infectious joy that puts everyone at ease.

The opening questions she asks patients are simple enough – What do you do? What’s your passion in life? Would you like me to pray with you? – but it’s her Benedictine traits of sincere hospitality, caring and true listening that set her apart.

She relishes letting people know before they die how loved they really are, by family, friends and God.  That motivates family members to do likewise. Some say what they hear toward the end makes it the happiest time of their lives.

Sister Jenny reveres and embraces the “vitality of the dying,” confiding that her patients are wonderful role models in teaching her how to live, even though they’re dying.

Lauren cites one of Sister Jenny’s best gifts as discernment, her ability to listen with God’s help to understand who the patient is and the gift they are, and to make that come to life for the patient and the family. “It’s amazing the gift she has for that. She listens and gets at the true person and their soul.”

Sister Jenny says, “I love working with the dying. I don’t like it when we put filters in, thinking we can’t say this or do that, why can’t we just be who we are? The dying throw those filters out. That’s a gift. I’m probably just selfish enough that I want to share that gift.”

Her reputation for compassion preceded her when she walked into Charlier for her job interview nine years ago. When the Charlier nurses saw her walk in, they stood up and clapped. They knew. Just as so many others know now.

Maybe her view on the mystery of death says it best.

“How do we know there’s anything there, has anybody ever come back from the dead to tell us?

 “Just as we went from the womb of the mother to the womb of earth, we move from that to the womb of God.

 “Trust it.”