WORDS Anne Dooley

In a hospital delivery room, or providing solace at a funeral, Mary is always there to look over us.

It was a fairly quiet Christmas morning in the delivery suite a few years ago when I was on an early shift and caring for a young Vietnamese woman in labour.

I always enjoyed the times when we midwives were not run off our feet, but able to spend time standing alongside and supporting women during the most intense pain when they get into established labour. She and her husband were very quiet. He encouraged her patiently and gently. There was that sense of a silent, sacred space that fills the delivery room punctuated with her regular gasps during each wave of pain. The labour progressed well and normally and at about mid-morning, their beautiful little son emerged into the world and gave his first loud and healthy cry.

Some years later our family celebrated a birth on Christmas morning as my little niece found her way into the world. The day was one of anticipation, joy and tiredness with the gift of a child so poignant for us all, bringing the message of Christmas into our home.

These experiences prompted me to reflect on what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph. How awkward it would have been for them. Who helped Mary give birth? What a lonely time without family around them and yet, what a joyous time too. Hopefully Mary had some local women who could assist her as she learned to care for the new baby and herself. Joseph would have been doing the best he could as well.

The Mary I imagine as a woman and midwife is different to my early memories of a statued woman. However, these early images provided a template for what was fleshed out over time.

As children we were introduced to saying the rosary at home and I was amazed at how Dad and Mum knew the ‘mysteries’ by heart and that there were special times in the life of Jesus and Mary which we  remembered when we prayed.

Saying the rosary seemed to wane over time for me and yet, it is a prayer that I come back to in times  when words fail. A death in our extended family a few years ago brought this need into reality when I was asked to pray the rosary at home alone during the time that the death occurred. We could not be together physically, but it united us spiritually. There was nothing left to do or say, but the repetitive words were a great consolation.

Some days later at the funeral, my sister-in-law prayed the rosary alongside her mother’s open coffin after the Buddhist monk chanted prayers. I remember being touched by these two faith traditions coming together in such a powerful and seamless way. Mary is able to cross traditions and bring us together in meaningful relationships.

Mary is for all a strong woman who said ‘yes’ to God and chose to give birth to Jesus. She did not know where this would lead her life, but she trusted that it was how she was called to live. She did this under threat of persecution and in a culture that would not have supported her as a young single mother.

The woman who assented to give birth to Jesus and to ‘bear God’ in the world has shown us the way to generously open our hearts and lives to God in complete trust. This way of following her Son and responding to God’s call in our lives is through relationship. It is about how we struggle throughout our own lives to live in relationship as deeply as we can with each other, from our birth to our death.

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