Vocations are "home-grown." For the most part they come from solidly Catholic families. When I was very tiny, I used to say: "I am Eileen Burns and I’m a Catholic" – this to me was part of my name. When I was in grade three at the height of the depression, I heard my parents discussing that a truckload of bananas had been thrown into the sea rather than be sold for thirty-five cents. "It was a pity with so many hungry people about," was their comment. I went to my father and asked him for thirty-five cents – a sum much greater than my allowance. "What do you want thirty-five cents for?" "I want to buy bananas and open an orphanage!" To me poor people were those without parents.
A call had come from school asking each student to bring some toy for the poor for Christmas. My mother said to me, "I bought you this pan set for you to bring for the poor." To me it was fabulous. "But would you like to give something of your own as well?" Driven by the thought of children having nothing for Christmas, I gathered my twenty dolls and the kitchen set and hurried off to school.

In my teens the director of the church choir, of whom my father was a member, died suddenly of a heart attack. His eldest son asked my father to help with arrangements. I watched anxiously for him from our window and then called to my mother to open the door. She said to me, "You, Eileen, go and open the door. You must learn to suffer with those who are suffering." I froze but opened the door. I still freeze before a suffering person but am much more aware of the value of presence even if it is wordless.

My mother had received a letter from my protestant aunt in England announcing that her daughter was leaving to become a missionary. My mother remarked, "Here is a Protestant family giving someone to God, if only Terry (my brother) had a vocation to the priesthood." "What about a sister?" "No," she said, "Not you!" (I think she feared I was suggesting it to please her.) I told her I wanted to enter at the end of the summer. "No," she said again, "we can’t afford to send you at this time." "But if I were to get a job?" "If you were to get a job I would take it as a sign from God. There are no jobs."

The next morning on returning from Mass, I stopped at a wholesale baker. The manager said there was not a job in sight. "Of course you wouldn’t take night work." "I’d take anything." "Then come back tonight."

My mother heard me as I entered the house. "Don’t get up for Mass this morning. You are tired from your exams." "I’ve been to Mass and I’ve got a job!" My mother sat bolt upright: "I have nothing further to say." She had received her sign sooner than expected.

Today I happily claim to be a Sister of the Child Jesus. For the name itself, this was not always so. I had no devotion to the "Child Jesus." But slowly, gradually, over the years, I have awakened to the wonder of the Incarnation, that God the Son became a human being, that He chooses to incarnate Himself still in our world by reflecting His presence of love through us. The awesomeness of this reality staggers me! It has impacted my life after all the searching, seeking, striving.

Perhaps a symbol of my service could be typified by this true story. A precocious little toddler had such a passion for music that his mother decided to expose him to a concert. After they were seated, the mother engaged in conversation with a friend she had not seen for a long time. When the curtain was about to rise, the mother panicked for she realized that her toddler was not beside her. As the pianist walked out on the stage, she saw her little one seated at the grand piano. The astonished pianist asked him what he was doing there. "I want to watch the notes." "Can you play a tune?" "Yes, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." The child played his melody while the pianist sat beside him. Then the pianist put his right hand around the little one and added chords in the treble. He put his other arm around the child and added the bass. The child was utterly delighted. When the tune was finished, the pianist said, "This is not the end, we have to make a bow." You can imagine the standing ovation.

This little account has powerfully influenced the way I regard service. I play my Twinkle, Twinkle, and the Holy Spirit fills in the rich harmonies.

Gratitude comes quickly to me as I think back on my long religious life – 60 years in the convent. It was through the influence of the Sisters of the Child Jesus, through all the opportunities I have been given for growth, for everything that I have and am, and for the beauty, His beauty, that I have seen reflected in the friends who are my sisters that I can say today, in spite of the fact that my journey has not always been easy, that I am happy to be a Sister of the Child Jesus and would not trade my vocation for any other.

Sister Eileen Burns, SCJ
524 West 6th Street
North Vancouver, BC V7M 2X7
Tel: 987-3351
Fax: 987-3350


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