The First Mother

“Mom, why do we have pain?”

I looked down at my little and considered his thoughtful eyes. Ah, more on his mind than his question implied. “Body pain or heart pain?” I asked as I set my handwork aside and pulled him next to me in the rocker. It was the home of many conversations and stories, our rocker.

“Well, both.” He poked a finger at the band aid we had placed on his knee the day before. I smiled at him as I took his finger and kissed the tip before he could tug the edge of the adhesive up to play with.

“Physical pain or body pain, happens because our nerves tell our brain that part of us is hurt and needs help. When we feel it, we can be careful not to hurt ourselves further and we can help our body get better with medicine and first aid. If we didn’t feel pain, if we didn’t know we were damaged, we might not help our body get better.”

He listened to me and nodded, but then leaned further against me. I knew there was more to his question, but he needed more time to tell me.

“Heart pain is harder to explain. There are a lot of people who don’t understand why it exists. But we know and you are old enough to hear the truth, hmm? What do you think, are you ready?”

He nodded again, but this time there was a light in his eyes. He loved being told he was old enough for one of our people’s stories.

“There was a time when all the animals, all the plants and all the people were half of themselves. They did not know this; it was merely the way it had always been. Father sun had no moon, light had no shadow, grandfather sky had no stars, and the people, the people had no love. They lived well enough, believing themselves content, but they did not know there was something beyond it. They did not smile or laugh. Their half selves wandered the earth, being without seeing. They were not able to enjoy the beauty that surrounded them. They did not have words for happy or sad.”

“They weren’t sad?” I could see the question in his eyes before he asked. I had his attention, but I could still sense his original purpose, likely he did not yet know what to say or how to ask.

“Maybe, though it wouldn’t have been the same kind that we know. Sadness is the first kind of heart pain and pain didn’t exist yet. Sadness begins like a splinter in your finger or a tiny cut that doesn’t bleed. And heart pain is much harder to soothe and heal than physical pain. This makes sadness feel bigger than it is sometimes, and just like a splinter can get infected and make you sick, sadness can grow bigger and make your heart sick too. Band aids, kisses and Bactine helped your knee yesterday but when you are sad, a hug isn’t always enough to make it go away, is it?”

He shook his head but didn’t say anything. Not time to talk yet then, time for listening.

“One day a little just like you, and his mother, just like me, were walking beside the river. It was the warming season, when all the cold and ice melts and tumbles down from the mountains to journey through the rivers toward the sea and oceans. The water was rough and rapid, in a hurry to get where it was going. The little and his mother stopped to watch the powerful water as it rushed and rumbled between the banks, taking branches, leaves, and mud with it. It was a sight that today we would think was both scary and beautiful, awe inspiring and maybe a little sad because the power of water can bring change. People rarely enjoy change.”

I once more stopped him from tugging on his band aid, so he started to play with my fingers as I hugged him a little closer. He was a little that listened best when he was fidgeting. I didn’t have to see his eyes to know that he was hearing me. His touch told me he was focused.

“This next part is scary and sad, are you sure you are ready?” I asked him in a soft voice, my fingers touching his in return as he continued to play with my hand. This time he didn’t look up at me, he just nodded yes, so I kissed the top of his head and continued.

“The little’s mother turned to continue on to the village, her hand holding on to her boy’s fingers. But he saw a small baby bear clinging to one of the logs in the river. Nobody knows for certain why he was drawn to try and save the small thing. Perhaps he was born with the seed of kindness in him. Perhaps it was the way it had to be. Because it takes love to be curious and the world did not have love yet either. Before his mother could stop him, the little jumped into the water to try and save the bear cub clinging to the log.”

I could feel him tense up and I smoothed my other hand over his forehead, brushing back his hair.

“Without sadness, without pain, there is little reason for people to worry. His mother watched him slide under the water and she felt a prick in her heart, because she was his mother. It was not fear, not like you and I feel, but it was as close as she could get. It was disquiet, a sense that something was not right, but wrong. She looked up at Father sun and begged for help. She was the first of the people to ask Father Sun for such a thing. She was the first of us to pray.

Father Sun looked down and saw that the people needed him. A mother should be able to know if her child is in danger. A feeling should exist, but not just fear or pain alone. Father Sun went to his father, Grandfather Sky to speak on these things.

‘Grandfather, the people ask for help. The place you created for them, they cannot see it as we do. They do not laugh or tell stories, they do not create beautiful things. They do not concern themselves with the animals or each other. They merely exist, they do not enjoy the life they have.’

Grandfather looked at Father Sun and gave his words some thought. He had made the Earth a place of marvelous things, but what use is beauty if it does not make someone smile? It is like trying to breathe without air.

Grandfather looked down at his world. He saw his people, his children. He saw his wife and the way that the mother, his daughter, was even now praying, asking for help while she was trying to find a safe way into the water, trying to keep sight of her son. The seed that began in her son was starting to grow and it found a home in her heart. But she didn’t know that Grandmother Earth had already brought her son and the little bear cub to her fire. Her little was not going to be able to return home, even though he was safe. He would live with Grandmother now.

Grandfather saw this and brought the mother into the sky.

“What are you seeking, child?”

As you might imagine, the little’s mother was distracted, looking down for several moments because the last thing she had been doing was looking for her son. But the feeling of hurry started to fade as she realized she was no longer by the river, and she did not have sadness or regret to feel that she was not still looking. So, she turned to give her attention to Grandfather.

“My little fell into the water. I wanted to fetch him so he wouldn’t get cold or miss dinner.”

Grandfather can see into our hearts, and he could see the growing seed there. He decided to feed and water it. It was a good seed and she had asked for help. The sky people cannot help us if we do not ask, and she had asked.

“He is no longer in the water; he is with my wife. She will keep him safe.”

For a long moment, the boy’s mother considered this as the seed continued to grow. Her boy was safe, but in a place she could not go. It meant she wouldn’t see him again. The roots from the seed began to hurt and tears slipped down her cheeks. She was the first of us to pray, the first of us to ask, and now she was the first of us to cry.

“Can I go to him? I can stay with her too, I will help your wife with chores and make myself useful.”

But Grandfather shook his head and laid a gentle hand on her belly.

“I’m sorry child, you cannot or your next little one will not survive. The living cannot visit my wife. The living cannot stay.”

At this news, the mother fell onto her knees, the roots of the seed digging deep into her heart and soul. Her hands covered her face as she cried for her firstborn and the heavens were quiet to give room for her sobs.

Grandfather leaned down and put his arm around her shoulders.

“You and your son have done a great thing for your people, my children. You saw the world as I wanted it to be seen. Your son tried to save the bear cub and the bear will not forget this. He will forever be entwined with bear, and he will return to my world each time the bear does. You tried to save your son. You saw the beauty of life itself. You weren’t willing to let go.

I have a much larger task to ask of you. But it will come with a price. One you can already feel. Carry beauty for me. Reveal it in my world below. Teach my children to laugh and smile.”

You might think it a strange request, for Grandfather to ask her in that moment, yes? When she was feeling pain for the first time in her existence? But he was showing her visions as he spoke to make it clear what he meant. When Grandfather speaks to us, it is not just words. It is sound and scent, movement, and touch. Grandfather speaks spirit to spirit.

By the time Grandfather had finished showing her what he was asking, her tears were stilled on her cheeks. The pain remained, of course, she was a mother who no longer had one of her little’s. She stood quiet for several minutes, considering. The weight of grief is heavy to carry and hers was new, unknown, frightening. Grandfather had shown her beauty and love as deep as the oceans, as tall as the sky. But the sorrow she felt was just as deep and tall.

“I don’t know if I can, Grandfather.” She finally said. She was being honest. The price was heart pain. Beauty, love, creativity, curiosity, all those lovely things that make the world amazing and marvelous were offered to her to bring back to her people. But the price was pain.

Father Sun had been watching all of this, listening. “Perhaps if I helped to carry the pain?” He was the first that she had prayed to, called to and asked for help. He wanted to be part of fixing her tears.

Grandfather smiled, though not too big, it would have been rude to smile too big when his daughter was kneeling there, recovering from her first encounter with pain.

“It is not a thing that you can help carry, my son. This pain will belong to our children below. However, beginning with this first mother and the daughter she carries, when they are ready to come back to us, to join us in the sky, they can help carry the pain of those below. I will allow all my children to light a fire that shall remind those below that they are here. You can help them do that.”

I looked down at my own little as he looked up at me. He knew so many of our stories. Father Sun, Grandfather Sky. There were other stories that spoke of the stars, the fires in the sky that our ancestors burn. But this was one of the first stories, one of the ones that told the why.

“You mean the stars! Father Sun helped her light the star fires! So we could look up and see our ancestors!” He was excited, for the moment, whatever had prompted his question almost forgotten, but it was still there, and I knew it was likely to return. If it didn’t, I would ask.

“Yes, I mean the stars.” I smiled back at him, glad in my own heart that I could, and yet sad just a little as well. I knew the cost it took, a cost we all shared, we people.

“Heart pain is too big for any one person to carry. It is something that must be shared. We tell our stories to remember this. To smile, to laugh, to remember that once we were only half of ourselves. We walk on Grandmother’s back and enjoy her beauty, we keep the first mother’s promise, to take care of Grandmother and do our chores. We do this to honor her. In return Grandmother gives us her lifeblood, the water in the rivers and oceans.

We honor the animals that give their lives to feed us and we give back to the spirits when we are given fruit and medicine. These are our brothers and sisters. They will help us if we ask. But only if we ask in kindness and respect.

The first mother returned to her people and told the first story. The people began to see the world the way Grandfather wished and they began to pray. Not just to ask for things, but in thanks for the wonder and beauty they now knew. For the first time the people saw Father Sun rise and set, painting color across the sky, for he wanted the first mother to remember him. And for the first time the people knew pain. They helped the first mother carry her grief over the loss of her son and rejoiced when her daughter was born.

The first mother would visit the river every season in memory of her little and watch the bears return from their sleep. They never harmed her, even the tallest, largest bear. Nor did they harm her daughter or her daughter’s daughter.

One night, when it was time, the first mother returned to Grandfather Sky and Father Sun was there to meet her. He helped her light a fire for the people to see, before Grandfather Sky kissed her forehead and wrapped her in a blanket with Father Sun. She became the Moon and she visits her people at night to give them extra light, but returns to her husband during the day because she is his wife and that is the way of wives.”

The story was over and I held my little close as we rocked in our rocker. I waited for his questions or his silence, giving him the time he needed. Several minutes passed but we didn’t need to be anywhere and I had the time to be patient. Soon he spoke.

“Timothy said he wasn’t my friend anymore. That we wouldn’t be friends ever again.”

I could feel the tension in him again and I ran my hand across his forehead and smoothed his hair.

“That is a heart pain, and I can help carry it if you want. You can always talk to me or daddy or your Auntie, it doesn’t have to be me. It is hard when friends say hurtful things. How do you feel? Do you want to forgive him and be friends again or is the hurt too much?”

He was silent for several moments which was good, he was thinking about all of his feelings and not just those on the surface.

“I don’t know, Mom. If he stays mad and mean then no, but if he just had a bad day then I would be mean to not forgive him, huh?”

I gave him a soft smile and kissed his cheek.

“You’re a good kid, son. Everyone has bad days sometimes, we can’t control that, but a good friend will understand. Just like family does. Are you ok now?”

“Yeah mom, I’m ok.”

And my little slid off our rocker to go outside to play.

I watched him go out the door and then looked up at Father Sun before I smiled and returned to my handwork.