The Garden Full of Roses

*A retelling for children, based on **The Dawn-Breakers** (Nabíl's Narrative).*

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It was springtime, long ago, in a garden on the bank of a wide river just outside the city of Baghdád. The grass was green, the river slipped past, and roses grew thick along the water's edge.

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In that garden Bahá'u'lláh stayed for twelve days. Soon He would have to leave on a long journey, far away, sent into exile once more. But first, in this garden, He had something wonderful to tell the friends who loved Him — the very thing they had waited and waited and longed all their lives to hear. He told them that He was the Promised One the Báb had spoken of, the One the whole world had been made ready for.

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And so those twelve days were not sad days at all. They were filled with a joy so big it was hard to hold.

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Every single morning, the gardener went out along the riverbank and gathered roses — armful after armful of them — and carried them to Bahá'u'lláh's tent. There the roses were heaped up in the middle of the tent in a great mountain of blossoms. Can you picture it? So many roses, piled so high, that the friends sitting on one side of the tent could not even see the friends sitting on the other side.

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Then Bahá'u'lláh would gather the roses up in His own hands and give them, one by one, to those who came to Him, so that they could carry them to the friends on the far side of the river. And off they would go, their arms full of roses, to share them with everyone across the water.

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The nights in that garden were just as wonderful as the days. All night long the nightingales sang in the trees and never seemed to stop. The friends could hardly sleep — but not because they were uncomfortable. They were too happy and too full of wonder to close their eyes. After so many years of hardship and waiting, this felt like a little taste of heaven itself.

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That is why, to this very day, the First Day of Riḍván is the most joyful celebration of the whole year for Bahá'ís. When we remember it, we do not picture anything dark or sad. We picture a garden — roses heaped higher than a person's head, nightingales singing in the dark, and the Promised One telling the friends who loved Him the most joyful news of all. Some of the happiest moments come right after the longest waiting.

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*This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see ["The Roses of Riḍván"](/stories/db-roses-of-ridvan).*

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