5th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Servant of God Eileen O’Connor, of Coogee, Sydney.
Part 2
Last year the canonisation cause of Eileen O’Connor was introduced. Eileen is now known as Servant of God Eileen O’Connor. Some parishioners are travelling to her tomb at the Our Lady’s Nurses of the Poor convent in Coogee on March 9. All parishioners are welcome.
The information below is from an article by Michael McKernan, published in Australian Dictionary of Biography, Volume 11, (MUP), 1988
The enterprise did not prosper and all recruits, except O'Connor, left the Coogee house. Gradually they were re-placed and a small community of seven, called Our Lady's Nurses of the Poor, elected O'Connor as their first superior. The work of the 'Brown Sisters' consisted in visiting the sick poor in their homes and in nursing them and the frail aged. O'Connor supervised this work and directed the spiri-tual development of the congregation.
Some Sacred Heart missionaries alleged that an improper relationship had grown up between the twin founders of Our Lady's Nurses; McGrath was prevented from officiating as a priest. He appealed to Rome and, remarkably in view of her condition, O'Connor, with the assistance of a nurse, trav-elled to Rome and London in 1915 to support his cause. Granted an interview with Pope Benedict XV she influ-enced the decision to reinstate McGrath as a priest even though he was not permitted to return to Australia for about thirty years.
The growth of the institute now exclusively in her hands, O'Connor provided strong leadership and direction. Apart from the Roman interlude, she was almost entirely bed-ridden. She died on 10 January 1921 of chronic tuberculosis of the spine and exhaustion. She was buried in Randwick cemetery but in 1937 the body was exhumed and reinterred beneath the chapel at Our Lady's Home; it was found to be in a state of perfect preservation. The congregation which claims her as co-foundress continues at Our Lady's Home at Coogee with three additional houses.
(concluded)
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The Weaver My life is but a weaving, between my God and me, I do not choose the colours, He worketh steadily. Oft times he weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside. Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly, Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reasons why The dark threads are as needful in the skilful weaver's hand As threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned. He knows, He loves, He cares, Nothing this truth can dim. He gives His very best to those Who leave the choice with Him.
Anonymous
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