Brilliant Star/Volume 16/Issue 5/Text
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[Page i]
Brilliant Star
november-december 1984
[Page ii]
Dear Children,
Can you tell time yet? What other ways do you know to measure time besides looking at your watch? Have the leaves fallen off the trees, and is the sun setting earlier where you live? Is it ten minutes 'til winter? Maybe you live south of the equator, and summer is in the air-with bright, high sun, and light summer evenings. Maybe you live near the Arctic Circle, and the nights are getting so long that you only have a few hours of sunlight each day! The seasons are changing, and though we don't see the time pass as quickly in their movement as we do watching the second hand on our watches, we can still sense the clockworks of nature.
What are the stars like in the sky this time of year? Do you see different stars in these months than in the summer? What about the seasons of your life? Think about your family and what season each member is in: maybe you have a newborn baby, just like a tender green sprout in the spring. A grandfather may live with you, with rich golden stories like the autumn.
The plan of God has seasons too! We are in the springtime, the "divine springtime", Bahá’u’lláh calls it—the wonderful, new early days of our faith. We know that when the winter comes, and a religion is dying out, God sends a new Messenger to breathe new life into the world. Aren't we blessed to be living now? Write us about all the seasons and cycles you can think of.
Love, your Editor
About the cover[edit]
The artist for this issue's cover is almost-six year old Lars Leydon of Lahaska, Pa. It is a finger painting done with tempera paint. You might be surprised that we are showcasing a finger painting. Look carefully and you will see a great deal of energy and a very strong graphic image. This is a painting filled with certitude! Often very young children have this strength in their artwork, but it tends to disappear as they get older and become concerned with how things "ought to look". An artist is an individual who sees his or her surroundings with his or her own eyes and interprets with his or her own heart and doesn't concern him or herself with the conventions of peers. Try to always be close to the artist in yourself and have certitude.
Brilliant Star is a publication of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. It is published six times each year, in January, March, May, July, September and November. Copyright 1984 National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. World rights reserved.
Address manuscripts and other editorial contributions to Brilliant Star/Radpour, Suburban Office Park, 5010 Austin Rd., Hixson, Tn. 37343. Manuscripts should be typewritten and double-spaced throughout. Brilliant Star does not offer monetary compensation to its contributors. Return postage should be included if manuscript is to be returned. Single copy $2.50; 6 issues (one year) $12.00; 12 issues (two years) $23.00; foreign, surface mail, one year $15.00, two years $28.00; foreign, air mail, one year $25.00, two years $47.50. An index for the preceding year's issues is available for $2.00.
For subscriptions, change of address and adjustments write to Brilliant Star Subscriber Service, Suburban Office Park, 5010 Austin Rd., Hixson, Tn. 37343. All other correspondence should be addressed to Brilliant Star/Richards, 4 Village Dr., Yardville, N.J. 08620. Printed in the U.S.A.
Brilliant Star is intended for children of all ages and strives to:
- develop the child's awareness of the oneness of humanity
- increase the child's conscious awareness of his spiritual nature and the need for its development
- provide practical approaches to viewing life's difficulties
- develop the child's reasoning power and stimulate his love for the order of the universe
- provide a standard by which the child may learn to relate to others with love and justice
- assist parents and teachers in developing all of the child's hidden talents and virtues
Editorial Board[edit]
Mary K. Radpour
Managing Director Mary K. Radpour
Editor-in-Chief Deborah Bley
Assistant Editor Mimi McClellan
Music Editor Rita Leydon
Art Director Rita Leydon
Production Janet Richards
Secretary Keith Boehme
Consultant
[Page 1]
Brilliant Star
november-december 1984
[Page 2]
Dear Children,
Can you tell time yet? What other ways do you know to measure time besides looking at your watch? Have the leaves fallen off the trees, and is the sun setting earlier where you live? Is it ten minutes ’til winter? Maybe you live south of the equator, and summer is in the air—with bright, high sun, and light summer evenings. Maybe you live near the Arctic Circle, and the nights are getting so long that you only have a few hours of sunlight each day! The seasons are changing, and though we don't see the time pass as quickly in their movement as we do watching the second hand on our watches, we can still sense the clockworks of nature.
What are the stars like in the sky this time of year? Do you see different stars in these months than in the summer? What about the seasons of your life? Think about your family and what season each member is in: maybe you have a newborn baby, just like a tender green sprout in the spring. A grandfather may live with you, with rich golden stories like the autumn.
The plan of God has seasons too! We are in the springtime, the "divine springtime", Bahá’u’lláh calls it—the wonderful, new early days of our faith. We know that when the winter comes, and a religion is dying out, God sends a new Messenger to breathe new life into the world. Aren't we blessed to be living now? Write us about all the seasons and cycles you can think of.
Love, your Editor
About the cover[edit]
The artist for this issue's cover is almost-six year old Lars Leydon of Lahaska, Pa. It is a finger painting done with tempera paint. You might be surprised that we are showcasing a finger painting. Look carefully and you will see a great deal of energy and a very strong graphic image. This is a painting filled with certitude! Often very young children have this strength in their artwork, but it tends to disappear as they get older and become concerned with how things "ought to look". An artist is an individual who sees his or her surroundings with his or her own eyes and interprets with his or her own heart and doesn't concern him or herself with the conventions of peers. Try to always be close to the artist in yourself and have certitude.
Brilliant Star is a publication of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. It is published six times each year, in January, March, May, July, September and November. Copyright 1984 National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. World rights reserved.
Address manuscripts and other editorial contributions to Brilliant Star/Radpour, Suburban Office Park, 5010 Austin Rd., Hixson, Tn. 37343. Manuscripts should be typewritten and double-spaced throughout. Brilliant Star does not offer monetary compensation to its contributors. Return postage should be included if manuscript is to be returned. Single copy $2.50; 6 issues (one year) $12.00; 12 issues (two years) $23.00; foreign, surface mail, one year $15.00, two years $28.00; foreign, air mail, one year $25.00, two years $47.50. An index for the the preceding year's issues is available for $2.00.
For subscriptions, change of address and adjustments write to Brilliant Star Subscriber Service, Suburban Office Park, 5010 Austin Rd., Hixson, Tn. 37343. All other correspondence should be addressed to Brilliant Star/Richards, 4 Village Dr., Yardville, N.J. 08620. Printed in the U.S.A.
Brilliant Star is intended for children of all ages and strives to:
- develop the child's awareness of the oneness of humanity
- increase the child's conscious awareness of his spiritual nature and the need for its development
- provide practical approaches to viewing life's difficulties
- develop the child's reasoning power and stimulate his love for the order of the universe
- provide a standard by which the child may learn to relate to others with love and justice
- assist parents and teachers in developing all of the child's hidden talents and virtues
Brilliant Star Editorial Board[edit]
Mary K. Radpour, Managing Director
Mary K. Radpour, Editor-in-Chief
Deborah Bley, Assistant Editor
Mimi McClellan, Music Editor
Rita Leydon, Art Director
Rita Leydon, Production
Janet Richards, Secretary
Keith Boehme, Consultant
[Page 3]
what’s inside[edit]
|
Letters From Our Friends 2 Trumpet Flower 4
When You are Old 8
Spring Wind 10
Summer Song 11
|
Autumn 12
Snowfall 13
The Brilliant Stars 14
Make a “T” Flyer 16
Imagination Play 17
One Family 18
|
Tesi’s Grandpa and the Butterfly 22
Puzzle 27
Our Weather 28
Dream Remembered 30
Book Nook 32 Parents’ Page 33 |
1
[Page 4]
Letters from our friends[edit]
Thep and Tee Smith from Bangkok, Thailand, wrote and sent us a photo: We like to read Brilliant Star. Thank you for showing us how to make a swing. Here is a picture of us on our new swings. Our daddy helped us make them. Thep is 5 and Tee is 3.
A couple of readers have asked for pen pals:
Rosita Niknafs (loves reading, drawing, ice-skating, biking, roller skating, and collects stamps)
Age 13
528 Wellesley Street
Hawkesbury, Ontario
K6A 2G1
Canada
Saman Aghdasi (would like to be pen pals with Maria Penner, and anyone else!)
Age 10
16 Colonial Way
Scituate, MA 02066
It’s always nice to hear that our readers have tried one of our crafts or activities! Nura Sadeghpour and her grandmother, Molly King, of California write: This month we built the bean house and our beans are about 5 inches tall. We water them every day. Thank you for that idea.
Since Halloween just passed, we thought you might enjoy seeing how the Troxel children of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, carved a beautiful jack-o-lantern!
[Page 5]
Here is Marzieh Pritchard, age 5, of Lauderdale Lakes, Florida, blowing her very first bubble-gum bubble!!
Elyce Stolp Nasseri wrote to share a story that she and her children like to hear just before going to sleep at night. They live in Chad, in Africa:
Bonchance[edit]
There once was a boy who was very very lucky. In fact his name was Bonchance (which means “good luck”). Why was he so lucky?
Well, Bonchance was lucky because he had eyes that could see, and ears that could hear, and a nose that could smell, and a tongue that could taste, and fingers that could feel and a heart that could know and love God.
Bonchance never forgot these blessings, and every day he said prayers to thank God for all of his bounties.
One of the prayers that he said, revealed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, was: “O God! Make my heart pure like a pearl.”
Ayana Alston, age 11, of Cupertino, California, sent us some of her lovely poems. She had to write poetry as a class assignment, with only two words per line, and here is one about her cat:
Very clumsy Orange bright Eats a lot Scratches fleas Very funny Big eyes Long nails Fuzzy tail Eats slugs Fights moths Try walking! He will— Trip you...
Yasi Sanii and Sarah Lawrence of Olean, NY, made these wonderful wintery pictures for us. Yasi is 7, and Sarah is 6:
[Page 6]
Trumpet Flower[edit]
by Heidi Marie Melius Illustrated by Elizabeth Filstrup
In the year 1852, life was peaceful for the noble family of Mírzá Husayn-Alí, or Bahá’u’lláh as we call Him today. But during the turmoil after an attempt on the life of Násiri’d-Dín Sháh, their riches were seized and young Bahíyyih Khánum learned the true meaning of religious freedom.
All known Bábís, noblemen alike, were arrested and thrown into prison. Bahíyyih’s heart ached with sadness when her own father was taken. Reports came to the family that Bahá’u’lláh had received brutal beatings and was tortured by bastinado. His clothes were torn, His shoes and turban gone, and there were chains upon His neck as the jeering crowds dragged Him into prison.
Yet even as these accounts reached the family, they had little time to grieve. For soon the mob stormed Bahá’u’lláh’s house and stripped it of all belongings. After the violent crowd left, Bahíyyih’s mother hurried the children into the safety of a house she rented in a back alley. This was home for four long months.
Bahíyyih felt anxious to know the fate of her father, and then one special day, her eldest brother Abbás was granted permission to visit Bahá’u’lláh. Bahíyyih waited at home while he and Mother journeyed to the prison. She sang softly and rocked her baby
[Page 7]
brother Mírzá Míhdí through the endless hours. Her frail arms tired as they swayed to and fro—yet this very motion helped to calm her fast-beating heart and soothe her troubled mind.
Indeed the hours passed, when at long last three loud taps were heard upon the outer door. There was the coded knock they had agreed to use! Bahíyyih ran to greet her mother and Abbás. Tears of relief sprang to her eyes as she welcomed them home. “Father?” she whispered. “How is our father?”
“Alive, my dearest one. Insha’lláh, alive and well.” Mother responded gently and placed her hand on Bahíyyih’s brow to smooth away the look of fear. “And now you must rest. It has been a long day. Give me the baby and run along with Abbás.”
Bahíyyih kissed her mother’s hand and rushed to meet Abbás in the outer garden. She was greeted by the musk-laden air of evening, heavy with the sweet-smelling herbs of bergamot and mint. Even though the area was small and unattended, here amidst the flowering trees and fragrant bushes Bahíyyih was reminded of happier days in father’s country home. She hurried next to Abbás under the mulberry tree and said, “Tell me everything. Please.”
“Oh Bahíyyih, my little sister. Your heart is already so sad. But you must know and try to understand.”
“Did you see father Abbás?”
“Yes. I was carried on a servant’s shoulders and saw a dark, steep place. We entered a
[Page 8]
small, narrow doorway and went down two steps. Beyond that I could see nothing.”
“What was it like down there?”
“Father asked that the servant not bring me any further so they took me back out. We sat outside waiting for the prisoners to be led out. Suddenly they brought Father out of the dungeon.”
“How was He?” Bahíyyih asked haltingly.
“He was chained to several others. What a chain! It was very heavy and they could only move it along with great difficulty!”
“Oh Abbás,” Bahíyyih sobbed. “What can we do?”
“Bahíyyih, Father is well. He relies upon God for strength and is happy in His conditions.”
Bahíyyih looked intently into his eyes as Abbás finished the story. She noticed a new glimmer of light and longed to know the reason. “What did Father say, Abbás, to make you think He is well? There were chains upon his neck and you say He is well. How can that be?”
“He told me that the prisoners are placed together in two rows, highwaymen and robbers alike. They face each other with their feet in stocks. The air is foul and no ray of light warms the icy coldness, yet they chant prayers! Father has taught them to chant one of the Báb’s prayers!”
“And they are happy?” Bahíyyih asked in wonder.
“Yes. Their voices continue until early hours in the morning and the sound is so loud that it reaches the ears of the Sháh. This makes them very glad to know that their presence will not be forgotten!” Abbás paused with his eyes closed as if listening to a sound in the night air. Continuing, he said with great conviction, “When the city is quiet and the people are asleep, you can almost hear Father. Listen to their chanting, Bahíyyih. Listen with your heart to the sweet songs of praise.”
Placing his hand on hers and looking into her troubled eyes, Abbás stood up slowly and said, “Bahíyyih, know that Father is well, very well...I must go to Mother now.”
Bahíyyih remained in the garden listening only to the beat of her heart. Then she arose from the stone bench and began walking. Upon the crest of each step she said a prayer for the safe return of her father. Then as she did every night since their confinement, Bahíyyih came upon her father’s favorite bush. It was ablaze with white roses and gave off a delightful scent. As she gazed into each golden-centered blossom, she thought of the martyred Bábís and their families left behind. Her heart became a beating drum calling out to the people of Tehrán. “How can you be cruel? Your eyes are blind and your ears do not hear!” In a softer voice she cried, “The flowers alone know the sadness of my heart. Why does this have to be?”
After a silent moment among the roses, Bahíyyih continued to walk along the path of scarlet hibiscus and pomegranate trees. She moved slowly, listening to the sounds of evening. Her procession
[Page 9]
stopped in front of a lily plant—the trumpet flower. Its funnel-shaped blossom of purest white seemed to echo what Abbás had lovingly confided. Here it was that she closed her eyes and imagined the distant sound of her father’s chanting. Her heart was comforted by the soothing melody and gradually heard an answer. Yes, her patience would be rewarded. Father would soon be returned to His beloved family. ■
[Page 10]
when you are old[edit]
by Ellen Walker Illustrated by Carol Walborn
id you ever play in the fallen leaves on an sun was hot?
Do you remember that?
Maybe you forgot it for a little while. Maybe not.
You will probably forget it many times before you are old.
But when you are old, one day you will remember it all again, and inside your old body you will be young again, with the sun on your face, crunching crisp dry leaves in your hands and under your feet, and dancing over the earth with what you see now was joy.
You will feel young again, even though your body is old.
When you are old, from time to time you will remember things, and although your body is old your spirit will feel like a child again, because your spirit does not forget.
Not all the things you will remember when you are old will be pleasant, but being old will help to make them so, because your spirit also learns.
[Page 11]
When you are old you will sometimes remember when you told your first big lie that somehow got found out. Or you will remember the time you let go and hit your best friend right in the mouth.
When you are old you will think about these things and wonder how God ever put up with you, and you will thank Him for giving you time to learn how to be a better person.
When you are old you will sometimes want to do things that old people are not supposed to do. Sometimes you will feel for a tiny moment that you would like to hit someone in the mouth. But because you are old, and you know better, you will just let that angry feeling go by.
Sometimes when you are old, you will feel for a moment like dancing across the room, or jumping up and down for joy, just like a child.
And if your body is not too weak, and if you are not too shy, you just might do it. You just might dance a little ways across the room, and jump once or twice because it feels so good.
It is not so simple, being old.
It is not as easy as it looks.
When you are old, you will know.
[Page 12]
Here are four poems, one for each season of the year, that draw thought pictures for us, and move us through the year. Can’t you almost taste each time of the year as you read the poems?
Spring Wind[edit]
by Paula A. Webster Illustrated by Patti Van Horn
e comes to town with elfin dust Hitralling from his coat, a stalwart kid with shining eyes and magic in a note:
"Redwinged blackbirds are building nests, And baby rabbits are out to play. There’s a brand new creek singing in the ditch; Please dismiss school today"
And as the children pour through doors,
he tosses his cap thus, then
gambols, dances down the street
to the flutesong of his wind.
[Page 13]
Summer Song[edit]
by Cathy Drinkwater Illustrated by Patti Van Horn
The summer sings and hums to me Each day from mom fil night. Some insects are musicians and some provide the light.
It's like an animal symphony That goes on every day. Each bird has its own song of joy And sings it his own way.
Children laugh and cry outside. They play from dawn 'til dark. And the music of their voices Is as perfect as the lark.
Each living thing in its own way Helps make up the song That every summer day will sing- And I always sing along.
And when at night a lullaby Is crooning soft and deep, I close my eyes and smile a bit, And hum myself to sleep.
PV.H.
[Page 14]
Autumn[edit]
by Cathy Drinkwater Illustrated by Patti Van Horn
The Autumn travels by no equinoctial timetable; arriving, at her pleasure, by night in early August. Though in retreat those sultry days, she goes abroad at night and pours, murmuring, through treetops rich with green and moist with life, too soon to rustle dryly as life slips comatose beneath her passionate red-tipped fingers.
A flashy, boisterous lady of the night, she lurks
where maiden summer still resides,
waiting impatiently for her turn to woo the earth
And her only calling card
these stolen nights amid white hot days-
Look up!
Pale and fleecy messengers, driven gladly,
scuttle before a cool, knowing moon.
[Page 15]
Snowfall[edit]
by Paula A. Webster Illustrated by Patti Van Horn
s midnight approaches, I sit at the window
As midnight approaches, I sit, of the wind
and I wonder, if, perhaps,
I live in a small glass ball
sometimes taken from the shelf
and held by childish hands,
turned upside down and back again
so wide blue eyes can watch
the winter storm inside.
[Page 16]
THE BRILLIANT STARS![edit]
Text by Mark & Joyce Block Illustrated by Louise Taylor
EVERYONE IS GETTING READY FOR CHRISTMAS - AND I HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHY OUR FAMILY DOESN'T. BAH! I HATE DECEMBER!
HAUG A CHRISTMAS TREE!
WELL, IT JUST ISN'T FAIR! WE LEARN IN CHILDREN'S CLASS THAT ALL THE PROPHETS OF GOD ARE ONE - SO WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO CELEBRATE CHRISMAS BECAUSE CHRIST IS EQUAL TO BAHÁ’U’LLÁH!
AND THEN WE COULD CELEBRATE ALL THE MOSLEM, BUDDHIST, HINDU, AND JEWISH HOLY DAYS!
JUST THINK OF ALL THE SCHOOL WE WOULD MISS!
BUT YOU DO HAVE A POINT, LEROY, THERE MUST BE SOME WAY WE CAN BE A PART OF CHRISTMAS
LETS CALL A MEETING OF THE BRILLIANT STARS TO TALK ABOUT IT.
Great! TELL EVERY ONE TO MEET AT MY HOUSE IN AN HOUR!
LATER... AT KATES HOUSE
THERE SHOULD BE SOME THINGS WE CAN Do To BE A PART OF CHRISTMAS...
LET'S THINK
WELL WE HAVE PARTIES AND EXCHANGE GIFTS AT SCHOOL - SO WE STILL GET TO CELEBRATE THERE...
MY BROWNIE TROOP IS GOING CHRISTMAS CAROLING TO COLLECT MONEY FOR TOYS TO GIVE TO THE ORPHANAGE.
MAYBE
WE SHOULD
FIND OUT WHY
CHRISTMAS IS
SO IMPORTANT
TO CHRISTIANS
[Page 17]
And why Channukah is so important to the Jews.
Sure! And on Christmas morning we can get together and read the story of Christ’s birth — that’s what Christmas is really about
Maybe we can go to David’s house during Channukah
But I still feel weird when we start back to school and everyone’s talking about all the new toys they got.
Well you know... everyone else may have holidays during December — but we have holidays all year long.
Yeah... there’s Bahá’u’lláh’s birthday, the Báb’s birthday, Ayyám-i-Há, Naw-Rúz, the Festival of Ridván...
... and we may feel different at Christmas — but we feel really special during our celebration!
You know... last year I counted how many days it is from Christmas to Ayyám-i-Há. It’s exactly 63 days
Hey!! Let’s get a calendar and start counting down until Ayyám-i-Há
And that will give us more time to plan a special celebration for all our friends
DECEMBER 26[edit]
Okay... there’s the first star on the calendar — only 62 more days until Ayyám-i-Há!
Now... what kind of decorating do we want at our Ayyám-i-Há party?
[Page 18]
Make a “T”-Flyer![edit]
by Rita Leydon
Children knew about this little “T”-Flyer before adults ever figured out how to make powered aircraft. It’s easy to make it work, just hold the dowel between the palms of your hands and rub briskly in one direction and release. The direction depends on how you whittled your propeller, so you have to experiment.
Drill a 1/4" hole Propeller ↗ 5/16 x 1 x 8" Pine
1/4 x 7 1/2" hardwood dowel
join with white glue sand all corners smooth When you glue the shaft and propeller together, be very sure that they are at right angles to each other.
side view of propeller
the propeller has to be carefully whittled to form the correct angles so that it can "screw" itself through the air creating the "lift" that gives flight to your new "T"-Flyer.
[Page 19]
IMAGINATION PLAY[edit]
by John W. Behrens
‘Abdu’l-Bahá tells us that all have talents and faculties:
Man also has spiritual powers: IMAGINATION, which conceives things; thought, which reflects upon realities; comprehension, which comprehends realities; memory, which retains whatever man imagines, thinks and comprehends. (B.W.F. pg. 317)
- Transfer these designs to colored craft paper and cut out as many as you want.
- Arrange the pieces on another paper to make a picture.
- Glue the pieces.
- Give your picture a title.
- Make several pictures and give them all titles.
You have now used your imagination!
[Page 20]
One Family[edit]
by Mary K. Radpour Photographs provided by M. K Radpour, Paula and Robert Henderson and Wilma Brady
(#1) I ast night we sat, quiet as mice, while Aria's Grandma Edie (#1) and my Grandma Wilma looked at family pictures and talked about being little girls once upon a time, so long ago that they had never even heard the name of Bahá’u’lláh.
"Think of it!" said my grandma. "You both might never have even been born, if the Bahá’ís of America had not been busy, making sure everyone knew Bahá’u’lláh's name and His message."
"Why not?" we chorused, finding it hard to think of a world without us.
"Yes, why not?" repeated Aria.
"Because you are the fruits of a tree which had to be planted a long time ago, my loves," said Edie. "Just before I was born ‘Abdu’l-Bahá came to America to teach us how to be one human family. When this picture was taken (#2), my Irish/American (#2) mother could not imagine a world in which black people and white people could marry and live together in harmony. She had never met a person from Iran, and would never have guessed that her granddaughter would marry a man from Iran. She lived in a little Illinois farm village where everyone looked alike, dressed alike, and thought alike."
"Down the road, in another little Illinois town, Angela's Negro American ancestors lived," said my grandma. "They were free, but they knew about slavery and how important unity was. They prayed for it, they sang about it, but they had no idea about how such a thing should come to be. They believed that they were all alone. But in their own state of Illinois, Bahá’ís were working to build a House of Worship
[Page 21]
for all people.”
“Then how did you get to know about Bahá’u’lláh?” I asked my grandma.
“Do you know who this is in this picture?” she asked. (#3).
“No...well, yes! Is that Aunt Adrienne?” I asked.
“It certainly is!” answered Grandma. “Here she is, a Bahá’í pioneer to South Carolina, right after she came home and taught our whole family about the Faith. Here we all are. That’s me, sitting on the end of the sofa on the right.” (#4)
“Really?” I asked, wondering if I would be so pretty when I grow up.
“It sure is,” said Grandma. “And your Aunt Adrienne and my mama began teaching the Faith right away. Sadie Ellis’ firesides soon became very famous, and our home welcomed all kinds of people. Here is
[Page 22]
Sadie Ellis.” (#5) “While your Aunt Adrienne and your great-grandmother were busy teaching, I was still searching,” said Edie. “I heard about the Bahá’í Faith three times, but only briefly. When Aria’s mommy was a baby, there was no one to teach me more.” (#6)
“Why?” asked Aria and I together.
“Because there were so few Bahá’ís in America then,” said Edie. “But they had a special Plan given them by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, and soon there were Bahá’ís in every part of the country. Then we tried to have at least one Bahá’í in each state. And later, at least nine Bahá’ís in one city in each state. So we grew and grew.”
“When Aria’s mommy and your daddy were children, they knew very few other Bahá’í children,” said my grandma. (#7)
“Oooh,” we said together, thinking of how strange it would be to never have Sunday school and lots of friends.
“But Aria’s daddy knew hundreds of Bahá’í children,” said Edie. “His Sunday school was like a big regular school, for there were so many Bahá’í children in Iran that they needed a big school.”
“What about my mommy?” I asked.
“Here is a picture (#8) of your other grandma and your mommy with her brothers and sisters,” said my grandma Wilma. I giggled, because my mommy looked like I do, right now. “When your mommy was a little girl, her mommy taught her all about God and how to pray. Because your mommy got this good education, she was ready to hear about Bahá’í teachings when she
[Page 23]
grew up.”
“Who taught her?” we asked together.
“She learned about the Faith at a fireside, because the Bahá’ís were having lots of firesides. That’s where she met your daddy,” said grandma. “So you see why I said you might never have been born if your Bahá’í family hadn’t been teaching about Bahá’u’lláh? Here is their wedding picture.” (#9)
“And Aria’s daddy had to come all the way around the world to meet her mommy. Without Bahá’u’lláh, that never would have happened!” said Edie.
“Now, how do you think Bahá’u’lláh will help your children to come from the great big human family?” asked Edie.
Aria and I were quiet. It was a mystery, but I was sure that if God could go to all that trouble to make Aria and me, there would sure be no problems for our children...
[Page 24]
Tesi’s Grandpa the Butterfly[edit]
by Victoria Ridgway Seifert 1984
itting on the porch swing, Tesi Started its gentle sway with one push of her feet. Her long red braids glistened as the swing passed through the sun's rays. She remembered the day Grandpa had built the swing and how carefully he had selected each board. Running her hands gently over the stained finish of the wood, she felt the now familiar lump return to her throat, quickly followed by a cascade of tears. "Darn! Will this ever stop?" Tesi wondered, fully surprised that anything could hurt as bad as losing a grandpa.
Illustrated by Keith Kresge
[Page 25]
Uncle Ben, smaller than most men but strong and rugged from a lifetime of logging, appeared before Tesi, holding a long stem, yellow rosebud. "It was on Grandpa's coffin, Tes. Thought you'd like to keep it." "Sure...a...thanks," murmured Tesi, looking away from the rosebud. "Well, I have to get ready for work."
Uncle Ben placed the flower on Tesi's lap and bounded from the porch. "Uncle Ben...I..." Bewilderment stuck the words in Tesi's throat, and she watched in frustration as her uncle hurried away. Though Tesi desperately longed for someone to sort out all the confusion she felt about funerals, death and all the fuss, she was relieved that Uncle Ben had to go to the mill. It somehow made her uncomfortable to have him odd today. Why, he even wore a neck tie and he smelled weird...kind of like mom's spice cabinet.
Tesi couldn't recall a time when she didn't have Grandpa. He was her best friend-the one she could tell her secrets and her fears. She figured he was the only grown-up in the whole world who understood what it was like to be a kid. "Being eight years old is mighty tough, honey pot," he had said, just a few days ago. "But you'll be okay; anyone with red hair and freckles has it made in this world." Tesi thought for a moment she could hear him chuckle.
Voices jolted Tesi back to the day's activities.
Her mother had followed departing guests to the porch for a final good-bye. Barely a head taller than Tesi and having the same coloring, she was often mistaken for Tesi's older sister.
Friends and relatives had been coming and going since Grandpa's early morning funeral, and some still lingered about the house and yard. Tesi wished it were tomorrow and they were all gone.
"Tesi, you get yourself into some play cloths and quit mopin' around." Mom took the rose from Tesi's lap, pulling her up from the swing by one hand.
"Mom...wait..."
"Most of the guests have left now, so Daddy's gone to the mill," Mom interrupted. Her mother's words were coming too fast as she stood twisting the rose stem between her fingers, petals falling on the porch. "Gracious, I don't know what that man would do without his mill."
"But Mom...why..."
"Now's not the time for questions, Tesi. You get some playing in and things will look brighter."
In jeans and sweat shirt, Tesi slipped out the kitchen door to avoid any further contact with guests. Just outside, she ran smack into a large, round, white-haired lady, and bounced back three steps before regaining her balance.
"Well, hello, dear," the lady chuckled, rippling like jello around her middle. "Your grandpa had such a lovely funeral, child. He looked so natural...just like he was sleeping" The lady smiled sweetly, moving on in a funny little waddle, without waiting for Tesi to respond.
"Why does everyone keep sayin' that?" Tesi fretted to herself. "No, Grandpa did not look natural. He looked like something from the wax museum. Someone had even stuck a white shirt and neck tie on him! Why, if he knew, he'd have a cow... and why did they box him up like"
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that anyway?"
As the afternoon passed, the house became quiet and Tesi decided to wander down the old logging road to the mill, hoping to meet Dad on his way home for supper.
This was the time of day Tesi and Grandpa usually took their "constitutional", so her walk seemed especially appropriate.
As usual, Tesi had to shoo mosquitoes with every step through the forest. "It's them freckles, honey pot," Grandpa's words came to warm her heart. "Them skeeters just love freckles."
"Geez, Grandpa," Tesi responded, somehow knowing, deep inside herself, he would hear. "I feel terrible 'bout the monkey suit and all them people gawkin' at you. Shoulda been a better way of puttin' you to rest."
Tesi felt a sense of relief to find the mill about its usual business, whistles blowing to warn of moving equipment, men shouting above the grind of machinery. Uncle Ben was there just like always.
He came toward Tesi carrying his big green thermos. She was always amused at the amount of grime on it, and on Uncle Ben. It was important now, the thermos and the dirt-comforting somehow.
"Howdy, Tes. We're runnin' a bit late," Uncle Ben greeted her as he hurried by. "Saw your dad back of the mill just a while ago."
Tesi could see Dad going through reject boards out by the mill's old woodburner. His black beard bristled beneath the shade of the baseball cap that protected his bald head. As he picked up a board, he'd turn it over and over, hold it out and study it awhile. How often she had seen Grandpa go through this same ritual! Somehow Dad seemed a lot like Grandpa today. Of course, sons are often like their dads, but Tesi hadn't noticed it before.
"Hi, Dad."
"Well, hi there, honey pot!"
"He even sounds like Grandpa," Tesi thought, and with this the tears came again. "You know, Dad, it's just awful to poke him in that box, and... all fancied up. That wasn't Grandpa!" Tesi was sobbing so hard it became difficult to catch her breath. "It was a...a stranger!" she stammered. "And those ladies sayin' how natural he looked..."
Tesi stood stiff-armed, her fists clenched tight, occasionally taking care of her runny nose with a faithful sleeve. "He wasn't any more natural than Uncle Ben, or Mom were today."
"I hear you, Tesi, I hear you." Dad spoke softly as he stacked a few boards for him and Tesi to sit on.
Tesi took her place beside her father on the boards, snuggling close to him with a deep sigh.
"You know, Tes, when a butterfly leaves his cocoon, I'll bet he doesn't even look back...but if he did, that cocoon surely wouldn't be invitin Why, he'd just spread those big wings and celebrate his freedom."
Tesi was quiet as she took in his words. The sun had come from behind a cloud, adding its warmth to the moment.
"Do you suppose it was like that for Grandpa?" Tesi wrinkled her nose up tight to prepare for another sniff.
"What do you think?" Dad prodded in his gentle manner.
Tesi thought for a long while
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I am ready. Please provide the raw OCR text between the **RAW TEXT START** and **RAW TEXT END** tags. I will then format it according to your instructions, ensuring:
1. **No rewriting:** The text will remain exactly as provided. 2. **Removal of noise:** Page headers, running heads, and page numbers will be stripped out. 3. **Correct Orthography:** I will ensure Bahá’í terms use the curly apostrophe (e.g., Bahá’í, Bahá’u’lláh, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá). 4. **MediaWiki Headers:** I will use the `== Header ==` syntax for sections. 5. **Structure:** Paragraph breaks will be preserved.
- Please paste the text you would like me to process.**
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about cocoons and bodies and the emptiness of both.
"Dad, do you s'pose maybe God made it the same for us souls as for the butterfly?"
"Can't see why He'd make things different for one of His creatures than another."
Tesi got slowly to her feet, "Yeah... yeah," she repeated, her brown eyes sparkling. "You're right, Dad. I absolutely know you're right! Grandpa just turned and took one look at that tired old body, and he didn't even care if someone had dressed it all up, 'cause he just started celebratin' his freedom right then and there!"
Tesi began running in circles, her arms spread like a butterfly, her voice growing higher with each breath she took. "Oh gosh, no more back ache, no more chest pain, no more yukky tonic-oh, it's so wonderful, Dad!"
Tesi felt as though she would soar with relief. She came to a halt in front of her father, swinging both arms forcefully around his neck, and bubbled, "Aren't butterflies the greatest, Dad?"
[Page 29]
PUZZLE[edit]
12 14 23 25 Zb 28 29 31 32 45678910 i 13 115 16 17 18 19 20 21 24 27 30 34 133 135 37 136 138 39 44 40 41 145 42 43 чь 47 48 49 150 51 153 54 152 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 75 76 78 80 86 74 77 79 31 82 83 84 85 87 389 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100
Answers to puzzle on page 33.
by Sandra Coleman © 1984
ACROSS[edit]
3. The Servant of Glory
15. Large city near the House of Worship visited by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá
40. Prison city where ‘Abdu’l-Bahá stayed with his father
56. Ascension of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá
81. Capital city of France visited by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá
88. The wife of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá
DOWN[edit]
1. Plan that ‘Abdu’l- Bahá left for teaching
2. State on the West Coast visited by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá
22. Terms used by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in describing types of unity
39. Bahá’u’lláh gave ‘Abdu’l-Bahá this title
74. Place where ‘Abdu’l-
Bahá was born on
May 23, 1844
[Page 30]
OUR WEATHER METEOR-Y JOLOGIST[edit]
I'm a METEOROLOGIST. If you'd like to learn where all this weather comes from, you can be a meteorologist too.
WRITTEN BY DEBORAH BLEY DRAWN BY RITA LEYDON'
You didn't know that we live inside an envelope, did you? It is called the ATMOSPHERE, it starts by your toes, where the earth meets the sky. It's a vast ocean of air, 1000 miles thick, which surrounds the earth, Far away from the earth, the air is very thin, but close to us, it is thicker. It is in this thicker air, only about three or four miles up, that we have weather.
The Sun causes most of our weather. When the earth, which is always tilted to one side, moves closer to the sun, the part of the earth closest to the sun is warm. Down under, as in Australia, the part of the earth most distant from the sun is having winter. At the equator, which is like a belt around the earth's shining same distance, so the weather stays about the same, whether it is December or July.
When warm and cool air meet in the sky it, makes for all kinds of weather! Cool air is heavier than warm air, and pushes warm air out of its way, making wind. Because we have so many oceans on our planet, there is lots of water in the air all of the time, even though you can't see it. As this Invisible water vapor rises from the earth, clouds form. As it rises higher, the vapor cools, and droplets form. When the droplets get bigger and heavier than the air, they fall as rain.
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As light as snowflakes are, they are still heavier than air, so they fall to earth. Like rain, snowflakes form inside clouds. When it is very cold inside clouds the water vapor and droplets may freeze into tiny, starry crystals -Snowflakes! Sleet happens in a similar way, but with sleet, the droplets do not form crystals. They just freeze into hard little lumps of ice. Hailstones are made in a different way from sleet, and usually happen in warm weather with thunderstorms. A raindrop gets blown up and down inside a cloud, from the warm part of the cloud to the cold part and back again, picking up moisture in its travels, until it gets coated with layers of ice. When it does fall to the ground, it may be a smooth ball of ice, or a rough lump, and may even be as big as a baseball!
We talk about "dew-fall" but dew does not fall! Dew & frost form right where they are found near the ground. The water vapor near the ground cools after the Sun goes down, and tiny drops are formed grushes & trees. is frozen dew. groun %ng that to the It stays near cloud. the ound until a wind blows it A way or ano until the sun shines the fog turns droplets into water vapor again!
Some interesting records about weather[edit]
Did you know that the hottest day on record in the U.S. was July 10, 1913, when it got up to 134°F in Death Valley, California? The coldest recorded temperature anywhere on earth was at the South Pole in 1960, when the thermometer read 127 °F below zero!
Sayings and legends[edit]
There are many sayings and legends that people have passed on through the years to try to predict the weather. Many of them have a reason in science for being true. This old rhyme is a good reminder of when to look for a storm:
Evening red and morning gray, send the traveler on his way. Evening gray and morning red, send the traveler wet to bed.
A clear, red evening means that no clouds are headed our way. Even if the next morning is gray and a bit overcast, it's probably just fog which will clear quickly. The sky will look grey at sunset if there are douds moving toward us. If sunrise is red, it may mean that the clouds have not yet reached us, and rain may be coming!
HAPPY WEATHER-WATCHING![edit]
Dream Remembered[edit]
by Tina Swatton and children from the New Jersey Bahá’í School
I had a dream the other night. Where I saw a beautiful sight. A garden of roses filled my eyes with the splendor of paradise. Nightingales sang a beautiful song, that told a tale of a brand new day.
I knew it, I knew the time had come! For the Glory of God, the Promised One!
Illustrated by Jacqueline Domin
[Page 33]
Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá
Book Nook[edit]
Mr. Death and the Red-Headed Woman by Helen Eustis, illus. by Reinhard Michl Green Tiger Press, 1983.
Most of us shiver a little when we think of Death—as though Death were mean and grim and cold. That's what little Maude Applegate thought when she took off on her daddy's pinto pony to catch up with Mr. Death, to bargain with him for the life of Billy Bangtry, her own true love. As Maude gets to know Mr. Death and his granny, she finds out how Death can be a messenger of joy instead of pain.
This little book, with its moving illustrations, is a wonderful read-aloud book. The strong country dialect, which might be difficult for a young reader to follow, comes through quite clearly when read by a lively storyteller. The book has two passages, on the 1st and 5th page of text, which might be offensive to Bahá’ís, because they could be seen as derogatory to American Indians. We encourage parents to use these as an opportunity for discussing prejudice and stereotypes with their children, and suggest the alternative phrases: "cowboy" on page 1, and "dirty uncivilized folks" on page five. Even with these defects, we believe this little book offers a new perspective on death which our children need to hear. Maude's courage in facing Death, her tenderness of heart which causes her to see Death differently than she might, and her good sense combined with a bit of talent for witchcraft make this an extremely engaging story.
The Beginning of a Season: In Praise of Parents[edit]
by Shay Whitman Cooper
The Feast of Jalál (Glory) is ending. Outside, the spring evening beckons; yet the hallway is crowded with individuals sharing last minute tidbits and warm embraces. The members of the Bahá’í community are saying their good-byes. A scholarly-looking gentleman, hair slightly graying, makes his way over to Helen.
"What a wonderful job you're doing raising your children," he says, taking her hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "I just wanted to thank you. I don't know how you do it," and he turns and leaves.
The eyes of the young mother follow him, a look of amazement slightly frozen across her face. A moment of sunshine, a warm feeling spreads through Helen. "Thank you," she murmurs to the gentleman disappearing through the thinning crowd and out the door. She tugs her husband's sleeve. "John, did you hear what he said?"
"What who said?" asks John, looking at her quizzically.
At that moment, Helen hears her young son raising his voice to another youngster. "I'll tell you later," she responds and hurries to her son, to halt the trouble. A broad smile, the effect of the "thank you", still lingers on her face.
On the way home, Helen shares the words of the kindly gentleman. John expresses a sense of surprise, warmth and gratitude.
Later, just before bedtime, Helen looks into the mirror and reflects, "It is difficult to be a parent...if I had only known...no..." Then she laughs. quietly, to herself, "Sometimes I feel so alone, so helpless."
For Helen remembers the times she feels overwhelmed and finds herself yelling at the children when what she wants is to be patient and able to listen. And other struggles: her daughter comes home from school demanding designer jeans so that the kids will like her. Helen explains in great detail why it is more important to have people love you for your qualities, and not for what you wear. When she finishes, her daughter runs into the bedroom yelling, "You hate me, you hate me."
The words sting. Helen wants to yell back. Instead, she says the "remover of difficulties" prayer several times. Now, she holds her daughter, who is crying because her friends have made fun of her clothes.
Of course, there are victories that Helen and John share. A prayer memorized, an act of kindness toward a new child in school, and the special love the children express for Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. The victories are sweet. The story ends and the story begins.
"Among the greatest of all services that can possibly be rendered by man to Almighty God is the education and training of children..." states ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. He continues, "It is, however, very difficult to undertake this service, even harder to succeed in it."
The seasons end and the seasons begin. Praise God, in this beginning season, we are developing Bahá’í communities learning to reach out and help parents. Children are tender plants struggling for light in a darkened world, and need everyone's love. And parents, the principle gardeners, need acknowledgement and encouragement, too. So, thank you, parents-thank you for your services.
1Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, p. 133. 2lbid.
Answers to crossword puzzle[edit]
ACROSS 3. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá 15. Chicago 40. Akka 56. November 28, 1921 81. Paris 88. Munirih Khánum
DOWN 1. Tablets of the Divine Plan 2. California 22. Candles of Unity 39. Master 74. Tihran
Brilliant Star[edit]
O God, guide me, protect me. and make me a bril star. Thou art m
This lovely calligraphic interpretation of one of our favorite children's prayers came to us as a gift from Rita Robinson in Cleveland, Ohio. Thank You, Rita!
Brilliant Star Suburban Office Park 5010 Austin Rd. Hixson, Tn. 37343 Return and forwarding postage guaranteed Non-profit org. U.S. postage PAID Hixson, Tn. Permit 24