One day...I had joined the ladies of the Family in the room
of the Greatest Holy Leaf for early morning tea, the beloved Master was sitting
in His favorite corner of the divan where, through the window on His right, He
could look over the ramparts and see the blue Mediterranean beyond. He was busy
writing Tablets, and the quiet peace of the room was broken only by the bubble
of the samovar, where one of the young maidservants, sitting on the floor
before it, was brewing the tea.
Presently the Master looked up from His writing with a
smile, and requested Ziyyih Khanum to chant a prayer. As she finished, a small
figure appeared in the open doorway, directly opposite 'Abdu'l-Bahá. Having
dropped off his shoes he stepped into the room, with his eyes focused on the
Master's face. 'Abdu'l-Bahá returned his gaze with such a look of loving
welcome it seemed to beckon the small one to approach Him. Shoghi, that
beautiful little boy, with his cameo face and his soulful appealing, dark eyes,
walked slowly toward the divan, the Master drawing him as by an invisible
thread, until he stood quite close in front of Him. As he paused there a moment
'Abdu'l-Bahá did not offer to embrace him but sat perfectly still, only nodding
His head two or three times, slowly and impressively, as it to say - "You
see? This tie connecting us is not just that of a physical grandfather but
something far deeper and more significant." While we breathlessly watched
to see what he would do, the little boy reached down and picking up the hem of
'Abdu'l-Bahá's robe he touched it reverently to his forehead, and kissed it,
then gently replaced it, while never taking his eyes from the adored Master's
face. The next moment he turned away, and scampered off to play, like any normal
child...At that time he was 'Abdu'l-Bahá's only grandchild... and, naturally,
he was of immense interest to the pilgrims. (Memoir of Ella Goodall Cooper quoted by Ruhiyyih Khanum,
The Priceless Pearl)
Although he loves appreciation expressed in regard to the
beauty of the Gardens and the Shrines and their planning, the Guardian seemed
to shun personal praise or being thanked for anything...
(Recorded by a pilgrim
in 1956; quoted by Ruhiyyih Khanum in ‘The Priceless Pearl’)