Mary, the first tabernacle

[Sr. Janet]

Many, many times in Zambia, I had the privilege of allowing a woman to
hear the heartbeat of her unborn baby.

She was always a woman from one of the fishing villages, some more
remote than others. The woman was usually illiterate. Sometimes she
had children already. Sometimes it was the first baby. It didn’t
matter. The reaction was always the same. There was silence, followed
by stunned disbelief, and then a slow, radiant smile unlike anything
else that I have ever seen in my entire life. The smile was one of
wonder, mystery, joy and of sharing in something so deep and so
personal that although I was a participant, it was only on the
perimeter. The woman, for a few seconds, had gone beyond anything she
had ever known or experienced.

If the baby was big enough, I could let the mother identify the head,
buttocks, arms and legs of her unborn child. Once or twice we were
even able to feel its chin! I always told the mothers that they
should talk to their babies; that a baby is born with the ability to
identify its mother’s voice from that of anybody else on earth. A
local tradition led women to fill the newborn baby’s palm with water
for its mother to drink, believing that the baby would protect her
from the pains of childbirth.

There was one wonderful, unforgettable occasion when, one baby was
still unborn and had scarcely started to emerge from the tabernacle of
its mother’s womb, it took hold of my index finger and wouldn’t let
go. The mother and I laughed, but it was laughter shared with God.
It was an unbelievably sacred moment.

On another occasion a woman gave birth to her fist daughter after nine
boys. I found her sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing at her
infant, filled with wonder that, at last, she had the girl-child for
whom she had longed. One word. “Malaika”. “Angel”….and so she named
her baby.

Mary, the mother of Jesus. The first tabernacle and the first one to
hold Jesus close to her heart.

God bless,
Sr. Janet