Some friendships begin with a spark.
Others with a slow unfolding.
Mine began with an invitation.
Sister Dorothy Anne was in her mid-70s when we met.
Still making her rounds at the hospital.
Still remembering names, stories, birthdays.
Still dressed to the nines—pressed skirt, suit jacket, and always that sense of quiet authority wrapped in kindness.
But what she carried most was presence.
And somehow, she saw something in me.
I don’t know exactly what it was.
But she made a place for it.
She invited me to lunch at Regina.
To Christmas parties with the Sisters.
To slow, simple dinners and long chats that drifted from stories to laughter to silence.
She made time for me.
In the middle of all her rounds and responsibilities, she made sure I felt welcome—not as a guest, but as someone who belonged.
That was how it began.
She introduced me to the Sisters.
She welcomed me into their world.
And without ever naming it, she helped me begin to understand what vocation could look like—woven through presence, purpose, and love.
That friendship shaped everything.
It’s the reason I’ve stayed connected all these years.
It’s the seed of the book I’m writing now.
It’s the thread that runs through the work I want to do, the way I want to lead, the woman I want to be.
And she never made it feel like mentoring.
She just saw me.
And stayed close.
That’s how it all began.
