Maura

Eighteen year old Maura stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb and trying to keep out of the cold wind's icy grasp. Layered as she was, in long dress, sweater, coat, and blanket with newspaper wrapped around her boots for extra warmth, one might have missed the very large bulge in her middle. Maura was, in fact, not only pregnant, but in the middle of labor. By anyone's standards Maura had not been thought of as exceptional or heroic. But even in the face of this cold winter's night and the desolation of this place, her certainty of decision did not waiver.

Trying to keep her mind off the sharp pains, the piercing cold, and the desolation of her surroundings, Maura thought about her parents' large, warm house in East Windsor, Connecticut. Life had been good to her and she had always been appreciative of God's gracious gifts. She was especially grateful for her family, who had nurtured her and given her the foundation in faith that defined who she was.

Looking back on her life now, Maura could understand her parents' concern about her beliefs. She had always been different than other children. As a young child, she was not interested in jump rope or hide-and-seek, sidewalk chalk drawing or castles in the sandbox. She had just not been attracted to playing with other children. Instead Maura was drawn to the quiet of her room. She was a voracious reader, and read cover to cover the Bible she had gotten from the vacation Bible school she had attended when she was ten.

When she wasn't reading, Maura would draw or play with her dolls. She loved to reenact Bible stories or make up stories of miraculous healing. She would have her dolls argue, letting Solomon come and resolve the dispute. Or a doll would be lost under the bed, crying, and Maura would send kind Ruth over to comfort her. If she had been teased too much by her siblings or other children, because she seemed so peculiar, Maura would imagine Samson, or Deborah, bringing a strong and just revenge. But afterward she always felt a tinge of guilt for wishing the others harm. Her favorite person in the Bible was Hannah. Maura admired her faith; a faith so strong that after many years of having no children, God had blessed her with a child, Samuel.

"Ahh! Ahh! Ahheeeee!" Maura had not meant to scream, but she had been caught off guard. The stabbing pain came quicker than expected, frightening her. Jose rushed to her side, holding her and feeling terribly helpless. As the pain began to subside, she slid down the door jamb and sat for a moment on the sill. The labor pains had taken Maura's breath away. She had not known the pain would be this intense. But she could not comfortably sit long and, standing up, she moved slowly toward the fire to warm herself.

Maura hadn't spent her whole life in her room. She enjoyed going to church. At first her parents were pleased by her willingness to go to Mass and C.C.D. They began to be a little uneasy, when she set up a prayer corner in her room. In the corner she had placed a small table with a candle, a crucifix, her rosary, and other small items that had importance to her. When she was given the Bible, it was lovingly placed on the table.

Maura appeared to change a little the summer her parents sent her to the Baptist Church's two week vacation Bible school. Neighbors had invited Maura and her siblings to go. It seemed convenient to have the children occupied and supervised for ten mornings in the summer, so her parents agreed to let them go. Maura was attracted by the hymns and children's songs. She even liked the "boring" children's messages the minister gave during the opening ceremony. Most important, Maura had discovered a faith tradition different from her own and she was intrigued and fascinated by it.

By the time she was twelve, Maura had not only worshipped at the Baptist Church, but she had also attended a Congregational Church, a Friends Meeting, a Pentecostal Church, and a synagogue. Maura's parents were in awe of their daughter's unusual interest in God and her strong, quiet faith, yet there was something troubling for them about the growing intensity and seriousness of her faith search. So, while her parents did not forbid her from exploring these different traditions, they in no way encouraged her.

The surge of uncontrolled water flow brought Maura's attention back to the present. Flowing down her legs and into her boots was a sudden gush of water. She looked down, frightened, and then looked frantically at Jose. Seeing her eyes widen and look down, Jose had followed her gaze. This was not his first birth experience. When Jose had first come into the country, it was not unusual for migrant women to give birth in the camps. He had, on occasion, helped.

Steadying himself, he spoke quietly, "Maura, your water has broken. The womb is open and letting out the remaining water. The baby will come very soon." After helping her dry off, Jose placed several layers of cardboard on the ground near the burn barrel and put some more wood on the fire. He then helped Maura lie on the cardboard, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

With the initial shock over and Jose's reassuring presence, Maura relaxed a little, remembering the vision she had experienced. She had been in her room, quietly studying the pictures on her wall. Most young women her age had posters of their movie idols or the latest music stars. Maura had a gallery of saints, new and old: St. Benedict, St. Francis of Assisi, Hildegarde of Bingen, Mother Teresa, and, surprisingly, Dom Camara of Brazil, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr.

Surrounded by these people of vision, piety, and strong faith, Maura would spend quiet time praying, something she did every day. On one unforgettable day last April Maura saw, had experienced, was overcome by a vision, a knowing. In an instant, she perceived, heard that she was pregnant. Although she could not really describe the vision, her feelings were still vivid. At first she was frightened, but then a miraculous calmness came over her and she knew everything was going to be okay. The reassurance was so over-powering that she knew she would accept this God-given gift of new life in her, no matter what the consequences. And there were consequences.

Disbelief and shock filled her parents' faces when Maura told them of her miraculous pregnancy. They told her to tell no one, made an appointment with her pediatrician, and started looking for a competent psychiatrist. Maura was indeed pregnant and refused any of the medical alternatives her parents, friends, and religious leaders offered. Maura's trust in her experience and her faith in God met the wall of disbelief unwaveringly.

Maura's pregnancy and her impossible story of conception were extremely embarrassing to her family. They felt the staring eyes of ridicule every time they walked out of the house. Her parents would not let her join her classmates in the high school graduation ceremonies. When her pregnancy began to show, her family, uncertain, and distraught, sent her to visit her older cousin, Beth, in Traverse City, Michigan.

Beth and her husband, Zack, owned a large cherry orchard and canning company. They welcomed Maura, making her feel at home, as best they could, but she had come at a very busy time of the year. It was the middle of the cherry picking season, which meant, in part, organizing and caring for the many migrant workers. Maura tried to stay out of the way. In the evenings she loved to walk through the orchard, tasting the ripened cherries that had not fallen that day.

On one of her evening strolls through the trees she met Jose. For some strange reason she felt drawn to him. They talked. He promised to meet her the next evening. Maura trusted Jose and told him about her vision and her pregnancy. She felt him react to this strange tale like everyone else, at first. But then, Maura felt a change come over him. Jose took her hands in his, telling her he believed her. No one, in all these long months, had said that too her. It was then that Maura knew she would stay with Jose.

"JOSE!!" Maura's scream was filled with all the fear, pain and uncertainty of childbirth. On this clear, starlit, wind chilled night Maura was about to give birth.