Diamonds in the Rough by BahaiBookstore.com

Diamonds IN THE ROUGH by Jenina S. Lepard

Bellwood Press Evanston, Illinois

Bellwood Press, 1233 Central St., Evanston, IL 60204-0605 Copyright © 2009 by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States All rights reserved. Published 2009 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper ∞ 12 11 10 09 4 3 2 1 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Lepard, Jenina S. Diamonds in the rough / written by Jenina Lepard. p. cm. Summary: Grant, a member of the Baha’i faith, hosts a youth group at his home where his friends hear about the history of his religion and some of its leaders. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-0-87743-713-0 (pbk. : alk. paper) [1. Bahai Faith—Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.L554Di 2009 [Fic]—dc22 2008052669

Design by Patrick J. Falso

This book is dedicated with love to my beloved family and to the precious young people everywhere on the planet.

Contents Acknowledgments.....................................................................................viii Beginnings: The Gathering of the Junior Youth Group............................... 1 Chapter 1: William Sears and the Gift of Understanding.......................... 13 Chapter 2: Dorothy Baker and the Gift of Confidence..............................21 Chapter 3: Martha Root and the Gift of Assertiveness.............................. 37 Chapter 4: Louis Gregory and the Gift of Justice.......................................55 Chapter 5: Fred Mortensen and the Gift of Commitment........................ 69 Chapter 6: Florence Mayberry and the Gift of Idealism.............................81 Chapter 7: A Home Visit.......................................................................... 97 Chapter 8: Músá Banání and the Gift of Humility..................................121 Chapter 9: May Maxwell and the Gift of Service.....................................131 Chapter 10: Rú¥ú’lláh Varqá and the Gift of Steadfastness......................143 New Directions: Transition of the Junior Youth Group............................149 References................................................................................................157

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Acknowledgments It has been a privilege to draw upon the inspirational stories of some of the great heroes and heroines of the Bahá’í Faith, and I acknowledge their extraordinary accomplishments with love and humility. I would like to express special gratitude to the Ruhi Institute for the inclusion of what has come to be known as “Anna’s presentation” from Ruhi Book 6: Teaching the Cause. I would also like to thank Red and Kathy Grammer for permission to include excerpts from their songs “I Think You’re Wonderful” and “Listen” from the CD Teaching Peace. I wish to express appreciation to my new friends at the Bahá’í Publishing Trust and to thank them for their expertise and input. I am grateful to my young friend, Reed Bishop, for his creative collaboration. He is a shining example of many virtues, and is a credit to his wonderful parents. Finally, I would like to honor the ongoing love and sustenance from the following souls: Brian, Justin, Brandon, Mollie, Julius, Warren, and Hazel.

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“Lift up your hearts above the present and look with eyes of faith into the future!” —‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Beginnings: The Gathering of the Junior Youth Group It was a cold, blustery Sunday afternoon in early January, and fourteen-year-old Grant was glad to be indoors. He was also excited because he was waiting for several of his friends to arrive at his home, and they were due any minute. He tried to distract himself from the waiting by playing a computer game with his younger brother, Byron, but it was no use. All he could think about was the upcoming gathering. “Sorry, Byron,” he told his eleven-year-old brother. “I can’t concentrate. I’m too excited.” “How come I can’t join this group, Grant?” Byron asked, pouting. “You always get to do the fun stuff !” Byron was tall and slender, with dark hair and large hazel eyes. He and Grant got along well most of the time. “It’s because it’s for junior youth, who are twelve to fifteen years old, Byron,” answered Grant. “It’s nothing personal. At least you can still get into the movies at kid prices!” “Big deal. I’m too old to be a kid!” retorted Byron. “I’m gonna see if I can go to Austin’s house.” He ran to ask his parents if it was all right to call his friend.

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Left alone, Grant began to pace. He was extremely tall for his age, with dark brown eyes and lots of brown curls. His height and verbal ability often led people to think he was several years older than he actually was—and this was not always an advantage, because sometimes more was expected of him than was reasonable. He was beginning to wonder if today was one of those times. Today was a very special opportunity for service for Grant. It was the day that he would host the first junior youth group session for his friends and some of the members of the Bahá’í community. His mother had helped him by providing an assortment of delicious doughnuts and a large urn of hot, cinnamon-flavored apple cider that was waiting on the kitchen counter. The cinnamon fragrance made the whole house smell wonderful. She had also brought out the remainder of some pastries that had been served at his parents’ weekly devotional gathering in their home the evening before. Grant’s mouth watered, but he resisted sampling the goods. The living room looked cozy and ready for company, and he and his parents had even built a fire in the fireplace. His parents understood his wish to take charge and had gone downstairs to the office. “We’ll be downstairs doing some work, Grant,” they had said. “Just let us know if you need anything.” What Grant had not acknowledged until now, even to himself, was that he was in fact in need of something: courage. When the idea of hosting the junior youth group had first been broached to him, he had been fine with inviting some of his friends from school to join the group. He had many friends, and they all knew about his family’s unusual religion. This gathering was definitely not (if Grant could help it) going to make any of them feel uncomfortable or pressured, even if its bottom-

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line purpose was spiritual in nature and related to his faith. He knew better than to ever argue with anyone about religious beliefs or to tell anyone else that his or her beliefs were wrong. But he was worried that someone might tell him his beliefs were wrong. While he knew he was no pushover, he knew any kind of disagreement would create tension between him and his friends that hadn’t been there before. Grant cared deeply about each of his friends, and he valued them highly. He was more worried about losing their friendship than he was about them potentially gossiping about him at school. He had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of, after all. He knew how to stand tall, and he knew he was respected for it. He just hated anything that reeked of disunity. Disunity meant a tearing of bonds, a ripping of hearts. Enough disunity existed in the world already without him and his friends adding to it via a gathering that was intended to promote the opposite feeling—unity. Two older Bahá’í youth were coming to facilitate the gathering, and three other members of their religious community who were junior youth and youth were also coming. Grant would have the support of these Bahá’í youth and junior youth, but he didn’t feel as close to any of them as he did to his friends from school. Grant paced up and down, up and down, trying to pluck up some of that much-needed courage. He thought of talking about his anxiety with his parents. They would be only too glad to stop what they were doing and give him the encouragement he needed. But no, he was going to show everyone, including himself, that he had the capacity to do this on his own. So he kept pacing back and forth across the living room floor as he waited nervously for the bell to ring.

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The bell finally did ring—and with it, his family’s dog, Mittens, began to bark loudly. Mittens was an eight-year-old miniature schnauzer, and she was better than a doorbell. Grant could hear her from anywhere in the house whenever someone knocked at the door. The first guests were Kristy and ‘Alí. They were the older youth, twenty-one and twenty respectively, who were going to help facilitate the gathering. “Hi, Grant!” said Kristy, giving him a hug. They knew each other well, since Kristy lived nearby and they saw each other often. She was tall and quietly pretty, with a round face, soft green eyes, and a sweet, high-pitched voice. “Good to meet you, Grant,” said ‘Alí, holding out his hand. “I brought my guitar, since you mentioned you sing and play the saxophone. Maybe we can do some jamming.” ‘Alí was medium height and handsome, with a dark complexion and kind, caring dark eyes. “Cool!” was Grant’s response. “Well, come on in and get out of the cold.” Kristy and ‘Alí did so, shaking off their coats and shoes. “So, who else is coming?” asked Kristy, once they were sitting in the living room. Grant was glad he’d convinced his parents to help him build the fire—it crackled loudly and made the room glow with its warm light. It gave him reassurance. “Oh, some of my friends from ninth grade—Brent, Alan, Jim, Sorush, and Bart, Sorush’s best friend.” “Wow! You rounded up that many friends, Grant?” asked ‘Alí, impressed. “Well, they were glad to have something to do, since it’s so cold outside,” answered Grant. “And Neda, Sandra, and Clayton, who all live nearby, will also be coming.”

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The doorbell rang again. “Mittens! Hush!” scolded Grant as he went to the door. It was Bart and Sorush. “Hi guys, come on in!” said Grant, suddenly enjoying playing host, glad to see his friends. The bell soon rang again, to the delight of Mittens, and before long everyone had arrived and was comfortably gathered in the living room. Grant was glad there were enough places for people to sit, as there were eleven of them. Some dining room chairs had been pulled up to supplement the sofas and chairs. Kristy took the lead. “Thank you for coming, everyone,” she said in her soft, friendly voice. “And thank you, Grant—and family—for agreeing to host. Maybe we could begin by introducing ourselves. My name is Kristy. I’m twenty-one, and I’m a senior in college, majoring in education.” ‘Alí went next. “I’m ‘Alí. I’m twenty, and I’m a junior in college, majoring in computer science. I also play the guitar and sing,” he added, indicating his instrument beside him. Grant decided to jump in. “I’m Grant, and I live here. I’m in the ninth grade, and I love music of all kinds!” he said enthusiastically. Grant nudged Jim. “Oh, my name is Jim, and I’m also in the ninth grade,” he said. “I like the arts a lot, especially drama.” Jim was one of Grant’s best friends. Grant liked him not only because of their mutual interest in the arts but also because he was a lot of fun, outgoing, and very mischievous. Jim was medium height with blond hair and blue eyes. Jim and Grant did not go to the same high school, and Grant wished they did. Bart was sitting to Jim’s right, and he said, “My name is Bart, and I’m in the ninth grade too. I’m into swimming—all year

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William Sears and the Gift of Understanding Kristy prepared herself for sharing her story by sitting up straighter and taking a deep breath. “This is one of my favorite stories,” she said softly. “Well, let’s hear it already!” interrupted Alan, impatiently. He was clearly interested. “OK. Bill Sears was born in Minnesota, near the Twin Cities, in 1911. He was apparently a very precocious baby. His first word was ‘God,’ for instance. He was the youngest child and the only boy of a Catholic father and a Protestant mother.” Cool, thought Grant. I’m really glad she chose Bill Sears. His childhood was amazing and hilarious! I remember reading his book and laughing my head off. “When little Billy was only about eighteen months old, he went with his father to meet a relative at the train. Little Billy happened to see someone else getting off the train who caught his

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“No way,” exclaimed Sandra. “That’s creepy!” “Believe it or not, it’s true,” Kristy said, smiling. “Fact is often stranger than fiction. And it took Bill quite a bit longer to decide that the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh were true, even though he had married Marguerite and she had become the stepmother to his two sons by his first wife, who had died.” “What finally made him decide?” asked Clayton, eager to get the story straight. “Bill had been researching scriptural prophecies to verify the claim of Bahá’u’lláh to be the Promised One of all ages,” Kristy replied. “You know, the traditions of almost every people in history include the promise of a time when peace and harmony will be established on earth. Bahá’ís believe that now is that time and that the Bahá’í Faith is the means through which all the races and peoples of the world will come together as one human family, in one universal cause and sharing one common faith. When Bill felt his intellectual curiosity had been satisfied and his mind was aligned with his heart, he decided to become a Bahá’í. Then he published his research in another book called Thief in the Night.” Oh yeah, that’s the book I gave to my language arts teacher last year when she asked about the Bahá’í Faith, Grant remembered. I wonder if she ever read it. “The guy did a lot of writing,” commented Alan. “Did he do anything else?” “Get this: Bill was a famous sportscaster and TV personality in the 1950s,” said ‘Alí. “He was climbing to the top of his business when he became a Bahá’í. And he decided to give it all up and go to Africa with his family. But he also continued to write many books.”

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Dorothy Baker and the Gift of Confidence After about a half hour of snacking, playing ping-pong, casual chatting, and playing with Mittens, who loved all the attention she was getting, ‘Alí took out his guitar and began strumming it to get people’s attention. Kristy said, “How about we gather back in the living room?” “What are we going to do now?” Sandra asked. “Are we going to do some jamming?” Grant asked ‘Alí. He wanted to, very badly. “Maybe later, OK?” answered ‘Alí, giving him a reassuring nod. ‘Alí understood Grant’s desire to express himself through music. But Grant recognized that ‘Alí needed to keep the group conversation going for the time being, so he relaxed and let the conversation continue. “Are there any famous Bahá’í women?” Alan asked.

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“There sure are, Alan,” answered ‘Alí. “One of the most loved Bahá’ís of the twentieth century was a woman named Dorothy Baker. Would you like to hear about her?” Grant said, “Oh, my mom loves Dorothy Baker! She’s always talking about her.” “Do you remember anything your mom has said about Dorothy, Grant?” asked Kristy. “Hmm, let’s see,” Grant mused. “I know that Dorothy was also a Hand of the Cause of God and that she died in a plane crash. Oh, and that she met ‘Abdu’l-Bahá when she was a young girl.” I know there’s lots more, but I just can’t think of it that quickly, he thought, feeling stricken. What was the matter with him? He didn’t usually agonize like this. Where was his confidence? “That’s a good start, Grant,” said ‘Alí. “Dorothy was raised in New Jersey, and her grandmother was a Bahá’í. That was around 1900. In 1912 her grandmother brought Dorothy to meet ‘Abdu’lBahá, and she was very nervous about meeting him. But she was so moved by his presence that she wrote him a letter afterward, asking to serve him, and signed it ‘your little follower.’” “Aww,” said Clayton, grinning. “I thought you said Bahá’u’lláh was the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, not ‘Abdu’l-Bahá,” spoke up Jim, provocatively. “Why would she say ‘your little follower’? Just because ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was the son, did that mean he was the heir apparent?” Ouch, Jim! thought Grant, though he realized Jim didn’t know who ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was. You shouldn’t talk about ‘Abdu’l-Bahá that way. What will ‘Alí and Kristy think? Everyone laughed. “That’s a perceptive point, Jim,” said Kristy, smiling at him. Grant felt relieved that she understood. “It must sound like that. But actually, even though ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was ap-

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pointed the head of the Bahá’í Faith by Bahá’u’lláh—a role he assumed after Bahá’u’lláh’s ascension—he never claimed to be a Prophet or a Manifestation of God. His name was ‘Abbás Effendi, but he preferred to be known as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, which means ‘servant of Bahá’u’lláh.’ It was ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s job to help the Bahá’ís understand the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh better, so they could spiritually transform their personal lives and become more unified in their communities. And so the Bahá’í world community would remain united even as it grew in all parts of the world.” I’m glad I didn’t have to explain that, thought Grant. I wish I could answer questions so quickly. “So how long was ‘Abdu’l-Bahá the head of the Bahá’ís?” asked Alan, a stickler for detail. “From 1892 until his death in 1921,” answered ‘Alí. “And in 1921 ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s grandson, Shoghi Effendi, became the Guardian of the Faith, appointed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in his Will and Testament, and he served as Guardian until he died in 1957. The term ‘Guardian’ means that Shoghi Effendi was the head of the Bahá’ís of the world, as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had been, although there were some differences in their respective roles.” “Who’s the Guardian now?” Alan asked, wanting to be sure of the facts. “Now we have the Universal House of Justice, the institution that stated that junior youth are a reservoir of energy and talent,” answered Kristy. “Oh. More about that later, right?” Alan said with a wink. “So back to Dorothy,” said Jim, intrigued. “What happened after she wrote the letter?” “Something really cool,” replied ‘Alí. “‘Abdu’l-Bahá, who was visiting the United States and Canada for nine months during

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1912, was in New York at that time, and he asked to see Dorothy’s grandmother. He told her that her granddaughter was his own daughter and that she must train Dorothy for him,” ‘Alí said proudly, almost as if he’d known Dorothy personally. “Ouch! Another free childhood gone,” commented Bart. “Does that mean she had to be good all the time, too?” “Actually, anything but,” Kristy answered. “Dorothy was a very good student, but she—like Bill Sears—loved to play pranks. When she was in college she would pretend to hypnotize people, having arranged and rehearsed it beforehand. She and her friends put on quite a convincing show.” “That would be fun!” said Jim playfully. “I’m glad to hear she had a sense of humor.” “What career did she go into?” asked Sorush, who was already serious about investigating careers. “Dorothy became a school teacher. She had wanted to become a lawyer like her father, but he discouraged her. It was, after all, around 1920, and although Dorothy’s own mother had attended medical school, it was a very rare thing for women to become anything but teachers or nurses in those days. But while she was teaching, she met her husband, Frank Baker,” said Kristy, who loved to talk about Dorothy Baker. Kristy reminds me of my mom talking about Dorothy, Grant realized. “What was she doing as a Bahá’í?” asked Alan. “At that time in her life, not a lot, at least not outwardly,” said Kristy. “She was still figuring out her life. But after she married Frank, who was an older man and widowed, with two children— kind of like Marguerite and Bill, come to think of it—some things happened in her life that changed her priorities.”

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“What kind of things?” asked Jim. “Well, first her stepdaughter, Sarah, died of leukemia as a young child. Then her grandmother came to live with them, and she and Dorothy studied the Bahá’í writings together every day. That was a wonderful time. But her grandmother eventually died. And then Dorothy came down with some symptoms that she thought meant she was going to die of tuberculosis, or cancer, or both,” Kristy said. “And a short while later, she suffered some serious food poisoning and nearly died. She was painfully aware that Frank had already suffered the sudden losses of his mother, his first wife, and his older daughter, and she was determined not to leave him alone, if she could help it.” “But she didn’t die then, did she?” asked Clayton. “No, and that was the beginning of a more active Bahá’í life,” said Kristy. “All of those severe tests, or life challenges, helped Dorothy rethink her priorities. She decided to write to Shoghi Effendi, and she asked him if she might write stories about the Bahá’í Faith for children.” “And did she?” asked Alan. “As it turned out, her destiny was different. Dorothy began to discover that she had a rare gift of eloquence. She was a very powerful public speaker,” said ‘Alí. “She had become very knowledgeable about the Bahá’í teachings from studying with her grandmother, which she continued to do after her grandmother died. She began to travel a lot to colleges and other places to give talks about the Bahá’í Faith.” I wonder if I have a “gift of eloquence?” Grant mused to himself. In music, maybe I do. Grant felt much more at home in music than in language. “What about her family?” asked Sandra.

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