They say it takes a village to raise a child. In Sister Barb’s case, it took a lively, music-filled family and a faithful grandmother whose quiet witness shaped the course of her life.
Growing up with four siblings under one roof, alongside her parents, uncle, and grandmother, she often joked that the children were outnumbered. Yet in that full house, she found her deepest foundation. Her grandmother, paralyzed after a stroke, became her sanctuary. During their “designated time” together, they sang German songs and studied catechism. In first grade, her mother would review her spelling words, and her grandmother would listen to her catechism answers. But it was what came after the memorized responses that changed her life. Her grandmother would gently remind her: “No matter what you read in this book or hear in the future, God loves you.”
That simple truth settled into her heart early and never left. Her grandmother became her rock, the image of God for her, a steady presence who helped her see the goodness within herself. Even now, Sister Barb believes that gift of unconditional love shaped everything that followed.
Her parents filled their home with joy. Christmas meant car rides to see lights in Cincinnati; family picnics meant instruments and harmony, and music was as natural as breathing. The family once appeared together on the Coco the Clown show, winning one watch for all five kids. The watch went to the oldest, who had arranged the music. At family picnics her dad and his brothers harmonized beautifully for her grandmother, and instruments lined the house. By age six, every child was expected to choose an instrument.
Unable to choose one instrument, young Barb was assigned to sit beside her brother Paul and pull the slide on his trombone, an embarrassing role for an older sister. But one evening at the Taft Theatre, she saw a young woman bathed in spotlight playing the flute. The sound captivated her. On the ride home, she and her father decided: she would play the flute.
At six years old, she began taking piano lessons from Mary Ann Gallagher (Sister Mary Gloria Gallagher). She loved her teacher and felt close to her, so when Sister Mary Gloria decided to enter the convent, she was devastated. When her mother asked why she was so upset, Barb answered honestly: “Because it’s going to be like she’s in prison.” To her young mind, religious life meant losing someone she cared about.
Years later, when Sister Mary Gloria was again her teacher, Barb saw something she hadn’t expected. She was joyful, peaceful, fully alive—certainly not imprisoned. That quiet realization stayed with her. Religious life, she began to understand, was not about confinement, but about freedom and belonging.
A pivotal moment in her life happened at a dance at Coney Island; her friend Gene confided he was considering the priesthood. For the first time, she admitted she might be called to religious life too. They prayed for each other on their senior retreat. Love takes many forms she shared; Father Gene remains a friend, one of the most influential people in helping her embrace her vocation.
For most of her life, Sister Barb taught music, it was where she felt at home. When she was asked to serve as a school administrator, she felt unprepared and unsure. Yet in hindsight, she sees that season as one of the most impactful of her life. It stretched her and quietly strengthened her in ways she did not yet understand.
In the early 1980s at St. Pius in Indianapolis, those hidden strengths began to surface. Her pastor placed her on a three-week rotation preaching all the weekend Masses. She made hospital visits, walked with families in crisis, prepared couples for marriage, and sat with the dying. In hospital rooms and grieving homes, she discovered the gift she didn’t know she had—the gift of presence. She realized she was not alone; the Holy Spirit was leading her.
Her pastor treated her as an equal, expecting her to do everything he could do except the sacramental part. At the same time, she felt her father’s steady wisdom guiding her—his organizational skills and his ability to gather people. Those years prepared her for leadership within her congregation and deepened her love for the community she was called to serve.
And she loves that life. Cards five days a week. Concerts and plays. Mysteries on her nightstand. Mozart, Debussy’s La Mer, and Beethoven filling the air. In the past, ice skating, spelunking with her nephew and long walks in nature where she feels most aware of God’s presence. Time with nieces and nephews. Meals with her three remaining siblings. Dogs. Children. Laughter.
Through every season, joyful and challenging alike—she has felt God’s protection. She knows she is graced and blessed, surrounded by guardian angels and a God who cherishes her. If there is one message her life proclaims, it is the one her grandmother shared with her. Sister Barb would want you to know—no matter what you have heard, no matter what the future brings or the past holds, God loves you.