"I Grew Up Without Knowing My Mother's Face": The Childhood Story of Co-Founder
Kyohei Mikawa
In 1938, Rissho Kosei-kai was established by Founder Nikkyo Niwano and Co-Founder Myoko Naganuma (December 25, 1889 - September 10, 1957). In our tradition, on her memorial day, we revisit her stories and reflect on our way of living. This month, I would like to share with you her stories.
She was born in Saitama Prefecture, Japan, on December 25, 1889. Her father was forty-one years old at the time, her mother thirty-seven. She was the sixth of seven children — a family that would know more than its share of sorrow, as three of her siblings passed away young, two soon after birth.
Her father was a farmer who also worked as a carpenter. Her mother was known for her diligence, often working alongside her husband in the fields. She a strict mother, who loved her children deeply. Later in life, however, the mother fell ill. Because of this, even before she turned five, the young girl who would one day become Co-Founder had already begun taking on much of the household work.
When her mother was forty-two, she passed away. The Co-Founder was only five years and three months old at the time, with a younger brother still in the home. Years later, in one of her Dharma talks, she would say simply: "I grew up without knowing my mother's face." In that single sentence lives the full weight of what she carried — both emotionally and physically — from such a young age.
After her mother's passing, another of her sisters also fell ill, leaving nearly all of the household duties to the young girl. Every cold morning, it was she who lit the fire, drew the water, and prepared rice and meals for the family. Perhaps school was the only place, and the only time, where she did not have to carry these burdens.
Then, when she was in the second grade, further hardship came to the family. Her father was deceived by someone and left responsible for another person's debt. He lost much of what he owned, and eventually, the family lost their home. Her father, together with her and her remaining siblings, found refuge at a nearby Buddhist temple — a place where statues of Jizo bodhisattva, guardian of children, stood watch over those who came to pray.
Two months after arriving at the temple, one of her siblings passed away at the age of twenty. The grief was immense. It was during this time that the temple's priest, who had come to know the family's hardships closely, began speaking with her. He told her: "It is because of the presence of our ancestors [including family members] that we are here today. Let us take care to appreciate them."
It was this simple act of care — this quiet wisdom, offered in a moment of profound loss — that lit a lamp in her heart. A lamp that, in time, would go on to illuminate the lives of many others.
--To be continued
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