Our Woman of the Week is Jenny Schroedel, nominated for her work with people who are grieving or at the end of their lives. We asked her to share the path she took to becoming a bereavement and end-of-life counselor:
“Caring for the bereaved has been a thread throughout my life. In college, I took a class on death and bereavement, and I learned about hospice for the first time. We read an article about a family that cared for their mother at home, washed her, and prayed over her after she died. I thought this was beautiful, unlike the deaths I had seen in my life, which took place outside of the home with less family involvement. I made a mental note that one day I'd like to be part of something like this.
“I went to seminary and earned a Masters in Theology, hoping to write about the intersection of religion and practical life. I raised my two daughters and worked from home as a freelance writer for 10 years, after which we moved to Hawaii to serve at St. Juvenaly mission. In Hawaii, we lived across the street from Hospice of Kona. Every time I looked at the building, I would think, ‘I've got to work there. Those are my people. Maybe I actually have the credentials to do that work?’ I met the spiritual care provider and she said, ‘I think you'd be a good fit for this work. But they only have one position, and that’s my job. But I will recommend you for the job when I retire.’ She didn’t retire for another three years.
"When she did retire, I applied, and I was hired! Typically for this job an applicant would need to have completed CPE – Clinical Pastoral Education – and I hadn’t. But there was no denying that I was meant for this work. It was my dream job and I woke every day eager to begin. I faced a tremendous learning curve as I cared for families from diverse racial, cultural, and economic backgrounds. I was totally engaged, kept my heart open and resolved to ‘always be a beginner’ as Rilke writes.
"We left Hawaii in 2018 due to the Kilauea eruption and moved to Minneapolis. I started working for Presbyterian Homes & Services in a similar capacity and caring for my two parents who were in fragile health. My one regret was that I had never attended CPE. What a surprise when I learned that my employer wanted to start their own CPE program and approached me to see if I wanted to become a CPE educator. I was startled because I hadn’t even begun CPE myself–but apparently they saw something in me and offered to put me through both CPE and Certified Educator training.
"CPE has changed my life – helping me to become more honest, more cognizant of the gifts that Orthodox theology offers those facing death and bereavement, and more effective in my own practice. I am now completing my final unit of CPE and am on the path to becoming a CPE Certified Educator.”
Axia!
Jenny Schroedel is our Woman of the Week, nominated for her work in bereavement counseling and as author of the book Naming the Child about infant loss. We asked her to tell us more:
"Grief had been part of my life since I was a young child. My parents’ firstborn son, Garrison, died at just two weeks. I was aware of the impact of that loss on my parents, and this made me not only comfortable with grieving people, but also gave me the desire to support them. How would my life – and my family’s life – have been different if my parents had received professional support after my brother’s death?
“With the death of a baby, or a miscarriage, the loss is mostly hidden from others. But for the parents, and for the extended family, this can be a significant event. For many parents, the relationship with that child continues. They might wonder and think about their child. I titled my book Naming the Child after I discovered that naming was meaningful for parents who hadn't yet had the chance. Doing so gave them a way to enter more deeply into the connection.
“For many parents, closure is not the goal. One young mother whose baby had died at only a few months carried the urn with her. She told me, ‘I do not like this idea of closure. What do people want me to do? Wrap up this loss and put a ribbon around it and say it's all done? It's not done.’ We often use the word ‘closure,’ but the word is rarely helpful. In contrast, the idea of ongoing conversation invites living in an open-ended way with loss, knowing that relationships continue in their own mysterious way.
"There are women in their seventies who still talk about the babies they lost. I work in long-term care now, and this sometimes comes up with residents. It was a challenge for my parents. When my brother was born in 1970, they were told to leave him in the hospital to die. On the advice of their doctors, they complied. There are a lot of parents who experienced these losses who never had the chance to have a funeral or any other kind of ritual. They also may have very conflicted feelings – my parents certainly did – that sense that it all feels unnatural.
“I think as a society we're getting better at recognizing these losses and providing more support in a hospital setting or doctor's office. But of course, there's always more we could do.”
As always, we asked our Woman of the Week, Jenny Schroedel, to tell you about her morning routine:
“Our icon corner is a centering place in our home. We keep our lampada burning so we can remember that the Holy Spirit is always present, filling all things. This was especially comforting when my daughters were little, and I would wake to care for them. Even now, when I wake at night and the dining room is aglow with that soft, loving light, I remember.
"Now it is summer, so after I make my coffee, I head out to my front porch swing. It takes me time to wake, so I start as slowly and gently as I can. This brings a little bit of glory first thing in the day: watching the sparrows, cardinals and downy woodpeckers come and go and the hummingbirds feasting at the feeder in their delicate splendor. All this is a reminder to me that whatever headaches life might bring, even so, it is, as Mary Oliver writes, “A serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in a broken world.” I watch parents taking their kids to preschool, see chipmunks scrambling for peanuts, hear birds splashing in their bird bath and begin to warm to the possibilities of the day.
"In the long dark Minnesota winters, there are some days that I go outside to get the light on my face and in my eyes because it's just so hard to wake. A little bit of crisp winter air and the bright sun is refreshing! My prayers are not fancy, I just give thanks – for this ordinary day of extraordinary grace, right here in Minneapolis. I might reflect on blessings, mull over my troubles or meditate on a short Scripture verse. Like many of my hospice clients, I treasure Psalm 23. I literally do walk “through the valley of the shadow of death” every day – both professionally and in my personal life as I cared for my parents, who both died over the last five years. I take comfort in the idea that God leads me beside still waters and MAKES me lie down in green pastures and I try as best as I can to cooperate with this quieting, especially in the morning. I know that if I can still myself, I can cultivate in myself a calm spaciousness that allows me to be more present to those in my care, quietly retaining the awareness that life is so much more than I can see and that everything - absolutely everything – is held together by God’s love."
Thank you, Jenny!
