Over the last month or so, the world lost two legends. One was Dolly Parton. The other was my aunt, Sister Sheila McNiff, SHCJ.
Chances are you knew the first one. Unless you attended a Holy Child school, worked for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, or crossed paths with one of the many communities she served, you probably didn’t know the second.
Dolly’s enormous talent made her famous, but her generosity became just as much a part of her legacy. She quietly gave millions of children books, supported communities in need, and used what she had to help others. Her fame gave her a platform for service.
Sheila didn’t have a platform. She had presence. Their passing has had me thinking about something I have spent much of my life writing about: What does it really mean to make a difference?
My Aunt Sheila died on Aug. 13 at age 88 after 67 years as a Sister of the Holy Child Jesus. Throughout her remarkable life, she served as an educator, principal, therapist, administrator, advocate, and pastoral minister. Her work touched children in Pasadena, underserved students in Reseda, 500 girls at a boarding school in Nigeria, survivors of clergy sexual abuse, immigrants, and refugees.
Yet, her accomplishments weren’t what made her remarkable. It was how she lived. The Holy Child motto is “Actions Not Words,” and I can’t think of a better description of Sheila’s life.
Her fellow Holy Child Sisters described her spirituality as practical. She looked for what people needed and found a way to help. Think about that for a moment. Rather than simply praying for someone in need, she prayed and then did something. Service wasn’t something she talked about. It was something she lived. Welcoming others meant opening the door. Compassion meant standing beside someone who was hurting.
There is something incredibly powerful in that simplicity, especially today. We live in a world that often confuses visibility with impact. Followers, likes, views and accolades have somehow become measurements of influence. Too often, we celebrate the loudest voices and the biggest platforms. Sister Sheila’s life reminds us that impact can be quiet.
In fact, I don’t think I ever heard my aunt raise her voice. She spoke so softly that you had to lean in to hear her. Perhaps that was the point. She was always listening. That gift took her to extraordinary places.
In 1977, Sheila left California for Nigeria to become principal of St. Ann Secondary School, a boarding school for 500 girls. Years later, she returned home and trained as a therapist, eventually serving at St. Luke Institute and St. John Seminary.
Then came one of the most difficult chapters in the history of our Catholic Church. In 2002, the Archdiocese of Los Angeles asked Sheila to coordinate its newly created Victims Assistance Ministry. Her role was to accompany survivors of sexual abuse and their families, listen to their stories, and provide support and counseling.
Instead of turning away from enormous pain, Sheila walked toward it. Perhaps that is what faith in action looks like. Faith doesn’t always give us the answers. Sometimes it simply gives us the courage to stand beside another human being in pain and say, through our presence and actions, you are not alone.
That quiet service continued throughout Sheila’s life. Well past the age when most people retire, she returned to education as principal of St. Catherine of Siena Parish School in Reseda. Later, she worked with Casa Cornelia Law Center on immigration and refugee issues. There was always someone who needed something. Sheila noticed.
For nearly 15 years, I have had the privilege of interviewing nonprofit founders and changemakers for Charity Matters. Again and again, they have taught me that real change rarely begins with a grand plan. More often, change begins when someone pays attention. A person is hurting, a struggling child, or an injustice needs attention. Then someone notices and decides to do something.
My aunt spent 88 years noticing. Perhaps that is the lesson her life leaves the rest of us. None of us needs a platform, fame, or extraordinary resources to make a difference. Instead, we simply need to pay attention.
Who needs us? Where can we help, whose story needs to be heard and what can we do today? Faith gives us the eyes to see one another. Service asks us to do something about what we see.
The world lost two very different legends this month. One used an enormous platform to serve others. The other quietly served whoever God placed in front of her. Both remind us that what matters isn’t how many people know our name.
What matters is what we do with the life we’ve been given.
