Awed
Yesterday I had a staff visit to the House of Abbud- one of the homes where Baha'u'llah and His family lived in Akka. Last year when I was on pilgrimage I got sick and missed a whole day of pilgrimage, including this spot. So when I went yesterday, I immediately felt like I was on pilgrimage again; I had not realized I hadn't been there since I was nine years old (my first pilgrimage), so as soon as I entered and realized this was a new site for me, my heart beat raced a little with excitement. Then there's the fact that the Manifestation of God for this age actually walked in this house, slept and lived and revealed in this house. In fact, the most Holy book was revealed in this house.
So, once the guide gave us a brief historical explanation, we were free to visit the rooms in whichever order we wanted. The very first room I walked into upstairs had a large portrait of an event dated May 30, 1944, which commemorated the fist 50 years of the Baha'i Faith in the United States. As I gazed on the picture of those first Western believers, a huge banquet hall with what looked to be at least a thousand believers, I noticed a man in the very front who looked so familiar. It was my grandfather! I kept thinking, no way...maybe it just looks like him, and then I noticed a beautiful, radiant young woman sitting at the table who was most definitely my grandmother. Soft tears began rolling down my cheeks as I realized there was a picture of my grandparents in the house where Baha'u'llah revealed His most sacred book. And the fact that my grandmother was in it, too, meant so much to me. I don't know why, but seeing her really stirred me. Maybe it's because I never met her. Maybe it's because it's more expected to see my grandpa in these things due to his position of service in the Cause for several years, or maybe it's because I know she really is responsible for that side of my family embracing the Faith...I dont know, but seeing her was just so moving.
And then as I moved into another room there was another picture of a convention of the American believers- hundreds of them standing outside the House of Worship in Chicago (I believe), and as my eyes gazed on the picture, this time searching, I found my grandfather again. So tall and distinguished looking. That same feeling of awe and honor washed over me.
My parents and sister neglected to tell me about these portraits last year when I missed this spot- I dont know if they didn't catch it or simply forgot, but I'm so glad it was a surprise. It was more special this way.
Anyway, I kept thinking about how special they were- not just my grandparents but all of those early believers. Their peers must have thought they were insane. Following some "orientalist sect". But they were not dissuaded. Not afraid to be different. So firm and steadfast in belief.
It was (and is) such a reminder of why we're all here. How small and insignificant we all are, in a way. And how special and precious we all are, in another way.
So, once the guide gave us a brief historical explanation, we were free to visit the rooms in whichever order we wanted. The very first room I walked into upstairs had a large portrait of an event dated May 30, 1944, which commemorated the fist 50 years of the Baha'i Faith in the United States. As I gazed on the picture of those first Western believers, a huge banquet hall with what looked to be at least a thousand believers, I noticed a man in the very front who looked so familiar. It was my grandfather! I kept thinking, no way...maybe it just looks like him, and then I noticed a beautiful, radiant young woman sitting at the table who was most definitely my grandmother. Soft tears began rolling down my cheeks as I realized there was a picture of my grandparents in the house where Baha'u'llah revealed His most sacred book. And the fact that my grandmother was in it, too, meant so much to me. I don't know why, but seeing her really stirred me. Maybe it's because I never met her. Maybe it's because it's more expected to see my grandpa in these things due to his position of service in the Cause for several years, or maybe it's because I know she really is responsible for that side of my family embracing the Faith...I dont know, but seeing her was just so moving.
And then as I moved into another room there was another picture of a convention of the American believers- hundreds of them standing outside the House of Worship in Chicago (I believe), and as my eyes gazed on the picture, this time searching, I found my grandfather again. So tall and distinguished looking. That same feeling of awe and honor washed over me.
My parents and sister neglected to tell me about these portraits last year when I missed this spot- I dont know if they didn't catch it or simply forgot, but I'm so glad it was a surprise. It was more special this way.
Anyway, I kept thinking about how special they were- not just my grandparents but all of those early believers. Their peers must have thought they were insane. Following some "orientalist sect". But they were not dissuaded. Not afraid to be different. So firm and steadfast in belief.
It was (and is) such a reminder of why we're all here. How small and insignificant we all are, in a way. And how special and precious we all are, in another way.
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