No Seed Ever Sees the Flower

Sr. Lee Kirchner, OSU, with students at Santa Angela Merici School in Carmen de la Legua, Peru, circa 1965.

The following is a chapter from the book, “Compassion in Action: Reflections from Those Making a Difference in the World” by R. Brayton Bowen, about Sr. Lee Kirchner, OSU, who has indeed made a difference in the world, and continues to do so by her prayer and presence.

I was born in 1929, the daughter of John and Mary Agnes Kirchner, who had thirteen children. My family first lived in Lyndon, Kentucky where my father was a vegetable farmer. My mother devoted her life to her family. She was a prayerful and loving mother, and her attitudes had a profound effect on me. Her selflessness was inspirational, and I believe the seeds of service to others were planted in me by her. She was a holy woman, not in a pietistic way, but in the quiet way she took care of her family.

I attended Holy Trinity and then St. Joseph’s grade schools. My high school years were spent at the Ursuline Academy in Louisville. During those years I felt an attraction to the Ursuline Sisters who were my teachers. I was inspired by their kindness and dedication to others. I was drawn to a life of service to God and others.

In 1942 I attended Ursuline College in Louisville, and it was there that I entered the novitiate to become an Ursuline Sister and professed my final vows in 1950. My first 5 years as an Ursuline Sister were spent teaching grade school in Louisville, then 5 years teaching in Cumberland, Maryland.

In 1963 Pope Paul VI asked all religious and clerical communities to send 10% of their members to the missions. Our Mother Superior asked for volunteers, and I was one of 75 of our Sisters who responded. How the four Sisters who were selected for mission work I never knew, but I was one of them. To this day I give thanks to God that I was chosen because it changed my life in so many ways.

How the four Sisters who were selected for mission work I never knew, but I was one of them. To this day I give thanks to God that I was chosen because it changed my life in so many ways.

In 1964 three Sisters and myself went to the missions in Peru. We were told we would be working in a community of 10,000 people. We had no idea what we were to do or how we were to do it. The two older Sisters taught at the Navy school and that is we lived for the first two years. They were paid a salary which was used to support our work among the poor. Sr. Mary Martha (Staarman) and I worked in Carmen de la Legua, outside of Lima, one of the poorest slum areas on the coast composed of small straw huts and cardboard shacks, infested with mosquitos, scorpions and rats. On our first visit there we were greeted warmly by a small group of faith filled Peruvian women from the area. We began our work by visiting the people, eating with them and trying to be a part of their lives. Eventually we would live in the slum among the people and that’s when our relationships with the people began to flourish.

Our first goal was to begin a school for the children of the slum. There was a small all-purpose building with five unused classrooms, but no water, electricity or bathrooms.

Our first goal was to begin a school for the children of the slum. There was a small all-purpose building with five unused classrooms, but no water, electricity or bathrooms. The people were so warm and helpful in every way possible. They were so happy to have religious who wanted to live and work with them. Mission work was a struggle. It took years to get water, lights and sewerage. One might think that these people were not happy people, but we found the opposite. They were eager to participate in our work. Our presence was a catalyst that helped build community and eventually improve their lives. They just needed someone to be their voice in seeking basic needs. Our school grew over time and even became overcrowded. In 6 years we. graduated our first class. Today it is a flourishing Montessori kindergarten, grade and high school. This was not our doing alone—it was due to the work and perseverance of the people who made it happen.

Today it is a flourishing Montessori kindergarten, grade and high school. This was not our doing alone—it was due to the work and perseverance of the people who made it happen.

After 20 years in Carmen de la Legua my desire to serve others who were extremely poor and completely abandoned by the Church and State, led me to a more desolate area. We started a new mission in San Miguel, Cajamarca, a remote province in the northern Andes about a 10-hour bus ride from Lima. We were the first religious women to work with the farming families considered to be the poorest in the nation. We were responsible for 300 small villages scattered throughout the mountains. We travelled by foot, or if we were lucky, a borrowed mule or horse. These people had a deep faith that was handed down from generation to generation—not taught in a classroom. They only saw a priest once a year. We held community meetings and trained farmers to be “catechists” to assist us in caring for the sick and dying, there were no hospitals, and caring for the people’s spiritual needs. These farmers, though burdened with their own work were so dedicated in serving their people. Besides tending to the faith needs of the people we started educational and youth programs. Most important was to build self-esteem and give them opportunities to discover and use their talents.

We started a new mission in San Miguel, Cajamarca, a remote province in the northern Andes about a 10-hour bus ride from Lima. We were the first religious women to work with the farming families considered to be the poorest in the nation.

I always had the option to return to the States at any time, but I did not until [2005] when it was time to retire. I had become a part of these people— their struggles, their joys and sorrows. They were my family. In them the invisible presence of God was made visible. My experience made me question everything I had learned or believed. All of my preconceived ideas about the poor and suffering were upended. They were not lazy or lacking in motivation—they just needed someone to be with them and help them. In my years of service there I often moved along blindly, not seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, but I continuously reminded myself that I must sow the seeds of love, trust and hope. I did not let discouragement dominate my thinking: no seed ever sees the flower.

For me, compassion is not feeling sorrow for others, but sorrow with others. We are not moved to compassion for others, but we have compassion because we are the same. I was not above them but with them in all things. I was poor with them, not just monetarily but spiritually. I was one of them.

For me, compassion is not feeling sorrow for others, but sorrow with others. We are not moved to compassion for others, but we have compassion because we are the same. I was not above them but with them in all things. I was poor with them, not just monetarily but spiritually. I was one of them. I learned never to judge them. I saw the basic goodness in them and learned to have so much respect for them. As trite as it may sound, it is so true that these people gave more to me than I ever gave to them and that is what happens when you are compassionate.

Sr. Lelia Kirchner, OSU, lives in an assisted living home where she keeps busy with her daily routine that begins with morning prayers both private and shared with the other sister residents and lay people. She has ample time to make her to do list for the day and on that list is Mass shared with our other residents and sometimes visitors. She keeps up with Ursuline community affairs and attends meetings at the Motherhouse. Every afternoon she takes part in activities that help her to keep thinking, moving about and become more involved with others there. She keeps in close contact with her loving and caring relatives. She laments, “My days fly by too quickly.”

Copyright ©2025 by R. Brayton Bowen. Used with permission by the author. You may purchase the book on Amazon.