Genesis 4:1-2
Many butterfly generations passed, and another strange thing happened. Adam and Eve had a son. The first child was born in this new world God had created. A freshly-out-of-his-cocoon butterfly appeared and rested next to him.
Of course, rabbits had baby bunnies; cats had kittens; fly eggs hatched; even caterpillars became butterflies; but Cain was special because God had created his parents in God’s own image.
All the animals came to see the new baby. But he was so slow to grow, most of them went back to doing whatever they did. I mean, Cain took forever to learn to walk or to make the sounds Adam and Eve did. The butterflies who saw the newborn never saw him walk, as they did for newborn lambs and monkeys. Many generations of our species came out of their cocoons before he walked. Each new butterfly visited him, but even after he could walk, it was a long time before he recognized that we were special to him.
You see, God assigned one family of each generation of butterflies to each of the humans God created. Adam had his series of butterflies as did Eve with hers . And when Cain was born, another line watched over him. Not that we were guardian angels or anything like that. We were just there for our charges to treasure and to advise, when needed.
I guess that was part of them being created in God’s image. God treasured us, so God’s special creatures should also treasure us.
Only Cain … Well, he tolerated his butterflies, but as he grew older, he mostly ignored them.
But it wasn’t just butterflies. See, Cain, being the first child, thought he was … well, let me put it this way. When Abel was born, their parents spent more time with Abel than with Cain. Now parents understand that, because newborn people babies need more attention. But Cain didn’t understand. He was only a year old, so how would he? But he resented the time they spent with his brother.
So as the two grew up together, Of course, Cain was the first older brother, so he didn’t have any example to follow. And his parents didn’t have any experience either. So Cain was not what you would consider to be a good older brother. He didn’t hit his brother or anything like that, but he let Abel know that he was not welcome to hang around with him.
Like when he was about six and Abel was five, Cain was playing with a rock. He had made up a game to see how close he could throw it to a target. Abel found another rock and was trying to do the same.
“Stop it!” the older brother yelled. “This is my game! You make up your own!” He threw his rock at Abel, maybe not trying to hit him, but his aim had improved. It wasn’t a big rock, but it hit the younger brother’s leg.
Cain’s butterfly flew close to Cain, beating his wings right in front of the boy’s face, trying to communicate his dismay. Fortunately, he reacted quickly when Cain’s hand tried to grab him.
Abel, of course, ran crying to Eve, followed by his butterfly, trying to sooth him. That made Cain even more angry, that his brother was now getting the attention Cain craved. And the attention that came to Cain was not what he wanted.
That was sad, because Cain had nobody to play with. Nor did Abel. At least, Abel had his butterflies, but, like I said, Cain didn’t care about his. Cain’s was always careful around his person, but it was his job to stay close. Not necessarily where Cain could see him, but still close.
When they grew older, when they were expected to work, Cain followed his father: planting, weeding, and harvesting. When Abel tried to join them later, … well …
Cain waited until his father wasn’t around. “Go away! We don’t need you! This is MY job to help Father! Not yours!”
(Cain never spoke to his brother without exclamation points. That’s what the person who is writing this story for me said.)
For a couple of days, Abel sat back in our tent, pouting.His current butterfly tried to coax him outside to play, but Abel stayed inside.
Remember, none of the animals God created were wild because nobody ate meat, only the fruit of seed-bearing plants and trees.
Abel’s butterfly coaxed a couple of lambs to the tent. Lambs love to jump and run and play. The butterfly hoped Abel would play with them. One of them landed on a sharp rock, cutting itself. Abel saw that and came out.
“Let me help you,” he told the lamb. He washed the wound. When it stopped bleeding, he did what his mother did for him. He found the proper kind of leaf and stuck it tight to the lamb’s cut.
“There. That will make it better.” That’s what Eve always said.
Abel’s butterfly watched, thinking, “This is something Abel can do, watch the sheep so they don’t get hurt.”
Immediately, Abel said out loud, “This is something I can do, watch the sheep so they don’t get hurt.”
Abel gathered together a flock of sheep and tended them. He took them out to pasture, made sure they were close to water but stayed out of it, and that was most of what he did. Oh, occasionally he would shear a sheep, and Eve would take the wool, clean it, spin it into yarn, and weave clothing for the family.
One day, Cain and Adam were out in the field, pulling thorns and thistles. In the heat, sweat poured off them. Cain stopped for a moment, wiped his face with a cloth, and looked across the field at Abel, sitting with his back against a tree. The older brother always kept an eye on the sheep because they liked to get into his field and eat his grain. Usually, Abel kept them away, but not always. Sometimes Abel was somewhere else, doing something else.
Cain’s butterfly listened to his person’s thoughts.
This is not fair! That lazy brother of mine is just resting in the shade while Father and I are working hard, sweating, muscles hurting! These thorns and thistles cut my hands and my arms! It’s just not right!
(Even when thinking, my writer needed exclamation marks when Cain was speaking about or to Abel)
Of course, he didn’t say anything like that to his father, and certainly not to his mother. When his parents were around, he knew he had to be careful how he treated his brother.
“We’re the only ones here,” they would say. “Just the four of us. We have to take care of each other. The animals can’t do it, especially the butterflies.”
But the family’s butterflies knew what was in their people’s minds.
And the boys grew up.
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As you probably know, butterflies don’t live a long time, just a few weeks with our wings. And, of course, I can’t write, so I’m going to let the person who is doing this for me finish my stories. She knows them. But I don’t remember all the names of my ancestors who told me stories, so
Sometimes she’ll have me tell the story, but probably most of them will be written in what she calls “third person,” somebody else.
Just remember, whenever the story includes a butterfly, it’s one of my ancestors. Maybe she’ll even tell you our story, how she came to write for me.
