Sister Bernard Lieser
Sister Mary Bernard Lieser has spent her life engaging daunting situations. From her early life on a Minnesota farm to working in the St. Gertrude's Convent butcher house as an Affiliate, then from her 52-year career as a nurse to her present ministry to the bereaved, she seems to show up to each of her obligations with an ease that for many of us would find difficult to assume.
Life just seems to have always offered the full breadth of itself to her, and her education was no exception. After only two weeks of initial nurse's training, Sister Bernard was put on the night shift at St. Mary's Hospital in Cottonwood. "I was so scared of the dark," she recalls with a grin. "But ultimately I enjoyed my work so much. Even with the twelve-hour shifts, I never felt burnt out. I learned to see Jesus in every patient."
Sister Bernard even makes engaging tough decisions look easy. In regards to her vocation, she says her parents didn’t push their children either way, although there is a strong lineage of religious life in the Lieser family. She didn't want to be a Sister at first, and spent her adolescence going to dances and loving it. But the strong emphasis on prayer in her family would lead her to hear her call.
"Once I decided something, my parents would just ask, 'Who did you pray to?' I would tell them that I had prayed to Father, Son and Holy Spirit…and the answer was easy. Our parents never interfered."
The youngest of ten, she grew up in a home where German was the first language and there was no plumbing or electricity. "We worked hard, prayed hard and played hard," she recalls. She milked cows at an early age and fought through blizzards that left "banks higher than the apple trees". Her mother would often leave for several days to assist with home births.
These influences can be seen in Sister Bernard's long career of working amidst life's extremes. She assisted births as well as patients who were dying. It was an age where healthcare staff relied more on bedside manner rather than medications to keep patients calm and comfortable. This included back rubs and taking the time to listen.
"I was with so many dying patients," says Sister Bernard, "and sometimes there was no chaplain. I remember singing 'How Great Thou Art' for one man as he died and did the same thing for his son years later."
Sister Bernard has kept extensive scrapbooks that are full of history. They include family genealogies, stories of medical advances (like the first use of penicillin in Cottonwood), and notes from grateful patients including one calling her the "Sunshine Nurse" who "taught me the true meaning of Jesus."
Sister Bernard has been a Sister of St. Gertrude's for 62 years. These days she feels a unique calling to comfort the grieving. She attends funerals on a regular basis; in one particular week she attended seven of them. "I just want to offer a big hug," she says, "…just a big hug. What is there to say but 'Yes, I am sorry.'"
She was barely 17 when her own father died and she remembers how her older brother put his arm around her and said, "I will take his place. I will be your father." She experienced how simply knowing she was not alone made the grief more bearable. It's that feeling of support that she wants to offer to bereaved families.
"And it is an Act of Mercy," she adds. "To help bury the dead is an Act of Mercy."