The sighs of your love, the tears of your despair, the anguish and hardship you face are the heartbeat of our world. Your sacrifice is the reason for my very breath, the impetus of my existence.
Because of my place of birth I am incapable of, and yet protected from, enduring the tests and injustice that you live with each day. I will never be able to see the sacred land in which you live—the cradle of our Faith, the birth place of our Beloved, the resting place of countless souls stolen before their time. I will never taste a single drop from the cup of sacrifice that each of you must quaff of every day of your lives.
Because of your birth place and your strength and resolve to see justice and change in your home country, you are barred from attaining your heart’s desire. You are unable to see the sun shine off of the Báb’s golden domed Shrine or hear the birds chirping while praying inside the Shrine of Baha’u’llah—the most blessed, most precious, most Holy spot on earth, and by the grace of God, my birthright.
How is it possible for one person to be so close to our Adored One and yet so far away, while you are so far from Him and yet so breathtakingly close? You yearn with all your hearts for the blessings that are heaped upon me each day, while I in turn yearn with all my heart to understand and embody the faith and the love and the courage with which you face each day.
You sacrifice the bounties in my life, the joy of my existence, for the betterment of our world, for the spiritual rejuvenation of a country that has not yet recognized it’s most precious, most life altering achievement. If I were to devote the rest of my life in service to humanity, I could not even begin to measure up to an ounce of the blood that you have spilled in His path. Could not even comprehend what it means to truly detach from all else but God. I may be materially stable, but you are spiritually the richest population I have ever known.
May your hardship be rewarded with eternal joy and wonder. May your prayers and your steadfastness bring you justice and freedom. May you never lose faith that the love and prayers of an entire world of believers are with you in your sorrows, in your anguish, in your turmoil. May you always feel the love and light and inspiration we feel when we think of you, our precious, devoted, beloved, treasured brothers and sisters in Iran.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
A Perfect Day
When I was 15 years old my family moved from Juneau Alaska to Tucson Arizona. My dad left a week before my mom and me. He caught a ferry to Washington and drove one of our cars all the way to Arizona, then he caught a plane back and met my mom and I in Seattle in order to drive our other car down. While I went on this drive with my dad, my mom took my dad’s return flight to Arizona. Thus I got to spend 3 whole days alone with him. We had an outrageous amount of fun trying to keep ourselves occupied. We sang songs, enjoyed the scenery, read through an Anne McCafferey book, and had some pretty amazing conversations. It was a tough transition for me and my dad knew it. However, while these three days alone with my dad will live in my memory forever, they aren’t the perfect day I’m referring to in the title of this story. That day came the day before my dad left Juneau.
It was a surprisingly sunny and quite warm day considering that it was early March in Southeast Alaska. The snow still lightly dusted the ground and the mountains, yet the promise of spring and new life peaked through the white. My dad asked me what I wanted to do with him on our last day of living as a family in Juneau; his last day before he caught the ferry to Washington. With infinite possibilities before me, I asked him if we could just drive around and take pictures. So I grabbed my camera and a brand new roll of Kodak film and we drove. We drove to the glacier and took pictures, then we drove around the Valley, and Mendenhall Mall, past the Nugget mall and on down Glacier Highway.
It was one of the first times I can remember driving with my dad with no real purpose in mind. We drove to remember the life we had lived there, to mourn the home we would be leaving, to capture the beauty we knew we would never be able to forget. We were both at a loss to express the emotions we were feeling, and yet we didn’t have to. The journey we took in that small brief period of time, was really to cherish the blessings we had been given and prepare us for the unknown that was the future.
That day has lived a thousand days in my memory for it was an end and a beginning at the same time. It was loss and joy, love and sadness, peace and longing, beauty and fear. It was like standing on the edge of a canyon, marveling at the expanse. Unsure what the next step will bring. Will the earth crumble below your feet and laugh as you fall? Or will it protect you and guide you to safety? These were the questions in our hearts as we drove through a lifetime of memories... My lifetime.
I will forever remember that day because for me, symbolically, it was my last day in the place I had always called home and still probably always will. It represents the end of a time in my life where I had nothing to fear, nothing to lose, where nature brought joy to my heart and filled my life with meaning. It was the day I said good-bye to a piece of me that I am still waiting to find again. A piece of me that I catch glimpses of sometimes, as the green of the grass and the tips of the pine needles peaking through the snow that day. Sometimes when I am blessed to visit endless forests or see majestic mountains again, I feel the hole inside me refill just a little bit. But in my heart I know that I am still waiting. Waiting for a period in my life, that will answer the perfection of my first 15 years. A time that will permanently restore the piece of my heart which I said good-bye to on that perfect day ten years ago.
This picture is very similar to the photos I took that day. It's of the Mendenhall Glacier.
It was a surprisingly sunny and quite warm day considering that it was early March in Southeast Alaska. The snow still lightly dusted the ground and the mountains, yet the promise of spring and new life peaked through the white. My dad asked me what I wanted to do with him on our last day of living as a family in Juneau; his last day before he caught the ferry to Washington. With infinite possibilities before me, I asked him if we could just drive around and take pictures. So I grabbed my camera and a brand new roll of Kodak film and we drove. We drove to the glacier and took pictures, then we drove around the Valley, and Mendenhall Mall, past the Nugget mall and on down Glacier Highway.
It was one of the first times I can remember driving with my dad with no real purpose in mind. We drove to remember the life we had lived there, to mourn the home we would be leaving, to capture the beauty we knew we would never be able to forget. We were both at a loss to express the emotions we were feeling, and yet we didn’t have to. The journey we took in that small brief period of time, was really to cherish the blessings we had been given and prepare us for the unknown that was the future.
That day has lived a thousand days in my memory for it was an end and a beginning at the same time. It was loss and joy, love and sadness, peace and longing, beauty and fear. It was like standing on the edge of a canyon, marveling at the expanse. Unsure what the next step will bring. Will the earth crumble below your feet and laugh as you fall? Or will it protect you and guide you to safety? These were the questions in our hearts as we drove through a lifetime of memories... My lifetime.
I will forever remember that day because for me, symbolically, it was my last day in the place I had always called home and still probably always will. It represents the end of a time in my life where I had nothing to fear, nothing to lose, where nature brought joy to my heart and filled my life with meaning. It was the day I said good-bye to a piece of me that I am still waiting to find again. A piece of me that I catch glimpses of sometimes, as the green of the grass and the tips of the pine needles peaking through the snow that day. Sometimes when I am blessed to visit endless forests or see majestic mountains again, I feel the hole inside me refill just a little bit. But in my heart I know that I am still waiting. Waiting for a period in my life, that will answer the perfection of my first 15 years. A time that will permanently restore the piece of my heart which I said good-bye to on that perfect day ten years ago.
This picture is very similar to the photos I took that day. It's of the Mendenhall Glacier.
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