An Hour at the Train Station

A retelling for children, based on Mahmúd's Diary (entries for early November 1912).

The big train slowed down and stopped at the station in a city called Cincinnati. It was not the end of the journey — 'Abdu'l-Bahá was traveling all the way from Chicago to Washington. The train had only stopped here so the workers could swap the engine, the part that pulled all the heavy cars along. That would take about an hour.

An hour is not very long. You could not have a big meeting in an hour. No one had rented a hall. No one had planned a speech. And there was one more thing: in the days before, 'Abdu'l-Bahá had been ill, and the people traveling with Him had asked Him to please, please rest as much as He could on the long trip.

But something special was happening out on the platform.

A few of the Bahá'ís who lived in Cincinnati had heard the train was coming. The message had come ahead by telegraph, clicking down the wires faster than any train could travel. So they hurried down to the station — just to be near 'Abdu'l-Bahá, even for a little while, even if all they could do was stand by the tracks.

Maḥmúd, who was traveling with the Master and writing everything down in his diary, went and told Him: a small group of friends had come to the platform.

'Abdu'l-Bahá did not stay in His seat to rest. He rose at once. He smoothed His robe, and He walked right out to meet them.

He shook each person's hand. He asked them about their families, and their homes, and their work — really wanting to know. Then He told them something to keep in their hearts. In a city like theirs, He said, where most people had not yet heard of the Faith, it was the strong, steady love of just a few friends that mattered most. Those few were like the solid rock that everything else would one day be built upon.

He gave them His blessing. Then the conductor called out that the train was leaving, and 'Abdu'l-Bahá went back to His compartment.

The friends stood on the platform and waved as the train pulled away. One of them, an older woman, was crying. The others were so full of feeling that no one said a word.

That was all. Just one hour, between two trains. There was no big crowd, and no famous speech for the newspapers. But those friends remembered that hour for the rest of their whole lives, and so did their children, and their children's children, even a hundred years later.

Here is the gentle truth hidden in this little story. You do not always need a long time or a grand plan to do something kind. 'Abdu'l-Bahá took one ordinary hour and made it shine, simply by stepping out to give a few people His full and loving attention. Even the smallest moment can become a treasure when we spend it caring for others.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "An Hour at the Cincinnati Station".

Maḥmúd-i-Zarqání, M.. (1998). *Mahmúd's Diary: The Diary of Mírzá Maḥmúd-i-Zarqání*. George Ronald.