When Sister Jeanne O’Laughlin died in 2019 at the age of 90, the world was already starting to feel the rumblings of what has become a time of perpetual division, short tempers, and quick—sometimes nasty—judgments. It seems fitting, and more than a little necessary, to return to her voice now, because her message feels even more urgent in 2026 than it did the day she di
I didn’t meet Sister Jeanne until just a few years before her death. She was an Adrian Dominican through and through—fierce, funny, rooted in service—the kind of woman who could talk about theology, education policy, and college students in the same breath, and then break into a grin as her little dog P.J. climbed into her lap. P.J., she told me, stood for “Pure Joy.”
“Am I too old for a dog?” she said with a big smile when I interviewed her in 2018. “I prayed to God for a sign. P.J. had a bad eye and bad teeth and all the right papers. And I thought, well, maybe joy was looking for me.”
That was her way—finding hope in unlikely places, even in old age, even in the midst of cancer. We shared the same hairdresser, and we would often run into each other at the salon. She had a consistent positive outlook, even when she’d lost more than half of her hair from treatments. She would still sit in that chair, smile at herself in the mirror, and delight in a new ’do. She saw beauty everywhere.
Sister Jeanne was born in Detroit in 1929, the daughter of a draftsman at Dodge Motor Company. Her mother died giving birth to her youngest sibling when Jeanne was just five years old. She had Adrian Dominicans as teachers throughout her schooling and never wanted to do anything else. She graduated from Siena Heights—long before I ever walked those halls as a student and later as a teacher. She and my mentor, Sister Mary Louise Hall, were classmates there. When she took the veil in 1946, the Adrian Dominicans changed their names. Jeanne became Sister John Anthony, honoring her father and godfather. That name change formed the basis for a very telling story, too, which she shared with me.
Back in the 1960s, before the sisters reverted to their birth names, Sister Jeanne enrolled in graduate classes at the University of Arizona.
“I registered as ‘Sister John Anthony,’” she said. “When the roster was typed up, it came out as ‘Anthony, John Sr.’ When I walked into that classroom of sixty men—in full habit—the looks were priceless.”
She loved that story. She loved even more that she stayed, studied hard, and eventually earned both a master’s degree in biology and a doctorate in educational administration. Education, she believed, was not just a profession—it was an act of justice.
When I asked her back in 2018 what she told young women of that day, she gave me what she called her “Three P’s, and she’d always sneak in a fourth:
“Be present—get there.
Participate—it’s not enough just to show up.
Persevere—this is the hardest one, especially for women.
And for all of that, you better know how to pray.”
Those words have stayed with me.
The Adrian Dominican Sisters have long carried the charism of seeking truth through prayer, study, community, and ministry. Sister Jeanne embodied that in a way that was not quiet, but deeply grounded. She fed the hungry, housed the homeless, advocated for children, and never stopped believing that education—and love—could change a life.
“Only people who commit acts of love can conquer the evil of hate,” she told me. “To love, we must be present. Present to each other. Present to God.”
She said that with P.J. curled at her feet, cancer in her body, and joy still radiating from her like sunlight.
Here in Adrian, Holy Family Parish recently launched a simple campaign: yard signs with a green background and a bold red heart over the words “Your Neighbor.” It struck me then—and it strikes me now—that Sister Jeanne had already given us the roadmap.
Be present. Participate. Persevere.
And pray.
That is how we love our neighbor. Not generally. Not theoretically. But right here, in this place, with the people in front of us.
As Sister Jeanne said—“Love, love, love. It takes love. That’s what moves us to participate.”
May we be present enough to notice.
May we be bold enough to participate.
May we be faithful enough to persevere in love.
And may we continue to pray.
SQUIBS 