Wake Up With Purpose!: What I've Learned in My First Hundred Years

by Jean Dolores Schmidt

Being mad at God is not the same thing as not believing in Him. You can’t be mad at something that doesn’t exist, right? I believe God expects us to have a relationship with Him, and that relationship has many different dimensions. Like all relationships, it goes through ups and downs, and it matures over time. God made us fully human. We’re all sinners. We’re all flawed. He tests our faith for a reason. Getting mad at God is a way of expressing—and keeping—our faith.

In the meantime, down here on earth, I have a lot more work to do.

Too many people are afraid to use those three magic words: “I don’t know.”

if we pretend that we know more than we do, it usually leads to bigger problems.

for a time, we had to work in secret because we knew a lot of people wouldn’t be happy about it. It’s good to solicit people’s opinions, but in the end, you have to have one person making a final decision. Otherwise you’ll be debating for so long that nothing ever gets done. You can’t make everybody happy.

I always felt young and spry, but let’s face it, the years were adding up. In August 1994, I turned seventy-five years old. I thought I would keep working until I couldn’t walk anymore, but then Loyola came to me with a generous retirement package. It covered expenses that would support me for a long time, plus health insurance.

I am not exactly the kind of gal who sails gently into the sunset. I stayed quite active, and it wasn’t long before I was reenlisted. Shortly after I “retired,” Father Piderit, Loyola’s president, mentioned that some members of the men’s and women’s basketball teams were falling behind academically. He wondered if I might be able to help. He wasn’t asking me to serve as the official academic advisor, just to give them study tips and guide them through the material. So that’s what I did.

Sometimes when people retire they become reclusive. I could never have just sat in my room or been by myself all the time.

I needed to wake up with purpose every day.

I figured I would just keep moving along this path and help out wherever I could, with a big smile but minimal fanfare. Little did I know that things were about to change. A new assignment was heading my way, and though it would take a few years, it turned out to be the most transformational and transcendent position of my life.

Like all coaches, one of Ken’s biggest challenges was understanding that every player has a different perspective and set of experiences, and so each player is motivated in his own way. That’s why empathy is so important in a leader. It’s easy to say, “Oh, these kids are old enough to understand,” but many times they don’t fully understand everything that is happening in their lives.

All leaders have to navigate resistance if they want to make change.

It’s our job to encourage young people to pursue their dreams—and then give them the space to work through their own challenges instead of trying to fix everything for them all the time.

SMILE: Students Moving into the Lives of the Elderly.

Thank You, God, for all our blessings and the chance to serve You. But goodness gracious, can’t we make March Madness just once?

Serving as team chaplain was far from my only duty at Loyola. Here is a job description I wrote for myself in 2012: campus minister at WTC, supervisor of the shuttle-bus line, director of SMILE program, chaplain to the men’s basketball team, assistant to the eucharistic ministers at the Sunday Liturgy in Madonna della Strada Chapel, director of prayer group in student resident hall, and member of the Catholic Student Organization Book Club. Keep in mind this was eighteen years after I had retired.

I was also inducted into the Loyola athletics Hall of Fame. I’ll bet there aren’t many nuns out there who can say that.

Sometimes people catch me praying during the game and ask, “Were you praying for Loyola to win?” I tell them, “You better believe I was.”

Life changed drastically for me on November 17, 2017. I was leaving an appointment with my ophthalmologist at the medical building at Saint Joseph Hospital. As I stepped off the curb, I heard my hip crack. The pain was even worse than the sound. I collapsed to the ground.

The discomfort was bad enough, but the accident also forced me to use a wheelchair. I really prized my independence, and now I was going to be beholden to someone pushing me around in a wheelchair. Because of that, I moved out of my room in Regis Hall and took an apartment at The Clare.

Worst of all, the accident happened at the start of basketball season. The last thing I wanted to do was miss any games.

Plus, the game was going to be in Florida’s home arena. I couldn’t make it to Gainesville for the game, but I was locked on to my television screen back at The Clare, where everyone knew I was not to be disturbed until it was over.

It only took me ninety-eight years to become an overnight sensation.

I picked the Ramblers to go all the way to the Sweet Sixteen—I thought I was going out on a limb with that one!

As I sat in my wheelchair outside the locker room, still flush with joy and excitement over the win, I noticed something weird was happening. Whenever I looked up, a photographer was aiming his or her lens at me and snapping away. A few reporters came up to me and asked me questions. A television reporter did the same with his camera crew. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought that if this was back in the 1950s, I would have had to stay pretty much out of sight, because sisters weren’t supposed to have their pictures taken. In 2018, however, I didn’t have such restrictions, so I was free to soak it all up.

USA Today called me “the most universally beloved fan during this year’s NCAA tournament.” All the sports shows were talking about Sister Jean and the Loyola Ramblers, and a lot of news shows were talking about us as well. I guess we were one of those stories that transcended sports. When I was wheeled through the lobby of our hotel or went to a restaurant to eat, people would shout my name and ask to take a selfie.

“Don’t let those Tennessee team members scare you with their height,” I said in reference to our next opponent, the Tennessee Volunteers. “Height doesn’t mean that much. You’re good jumpers. You’re good rebounders. You’re good at everything, and just keep that in mind.”

The game was over! Loyola 63, Tennessee 62.

I’ve heard people say that Clayton’s funky game winner went in because of a “Sister Jean bounce.” That suggested that somehow my prayers made that ball defy the laws of gravity and go in. Is that true? Who’s to say that it isn’t? That’s the beauty of God—we never really know what He’s doing, or why. We have to trust Him to do His part, and then it’s up to us to do ours. Those players worked hard for that victory. If it took a Sister Jean bounce to get us into the Sweet Sixteen, then that was a destiny worth celebrating.

Let’s face it, people love little old ladies! We’re harmless, we’re cheerful, and we’ve been through a few things. People innately want to be happy and safe—and stay alive.

The grandmother of Jalen Rose, who was one of the famous “Fab Five” that played for Michigan in the early 1990s, put out a video on Instagram and said, “Sister Jean, it’s been a good ride. But it’s over Saturday. Go Blue!” You gotta respect an old lady who knows how to talk some trash!

The scoreboard may have said that Michigan had more points than we did that night, but there was no doubt in my mind that we left that court as winners.

I find that when we are sad, helping other people overcome their own sadness makes us feel a lot better.

I must get five calls a day from people asking for money. I don’t even know how they get my number.

One of my good friends on the faculty is Omer Mozaffar, the Muslim chaplain at our Division of Mission Integration.

He’s the Division’s version of Sister Jean, only without the hype sneakers.

Wesam would push my wheelchair across campus and through the dining hall. He brought me to his residence hall so I could individually bless all the rooms. People would tease him that they thought I was his grandma. It was a cute joke, except of course I looked far too young to be his grandma.

We can put on whatever costume we want, but God sees who we really are on the inside. And we’re all the same in His eyes.

Every job is important in God’s eyes.

We can pray all we want, but I also believe that we have to do our part.

Even Michael Jordan said when your legs are tired, it’s hard to shoot a free throw.”

I love my life and all that comes with it.

I am so fortunate that at this advanced stage of my life, I still go to bed every night with a smile on my face, gratitude in my heart, and love in my soul. As I nod off, I pat myself on the back for all the good things I’ve done that day, and then I thank God one more time for all the blessings He has bestowed on me during my first hundred years. I’m never quite certain what the morning will bring. All I know for sure is that I will wake up with purpose.

We shouldn’t take ourselves so seriously, you know.

I’ve tried to let my life be guided by a certain set of principles. I’m not saying I’ve always lived up to them, but I’ve always tried.

God didn’t create us to be perfect. He created us to be human.

I hope I’ve helped people understand that it’s easy to do good if you want to do good. I know there are many service-oriented people out there. I hope the book will encourage them to try to be fully human and to show others that they’re interested in them and sincerely care for them. If you can help someone, help them. We can’t fix every problem, but we can always do the good that’s in front of us.

I hope this book helps people become a little more forgiving—of themselves and others. We need forgiveness now more than ever.

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