The Smell of the Lilies

A retelling for children, based on Portals to Freedom by Howard Colby Ives.

It was a Sunday in springtime, and a Bahá'í family had a wonderful wish. They wanted 'Abdu'l-Bahá to come to their little house in New Jersey — not for a big meeting or a great speech, but just to share a meal and to rest. He had been so busy, with crowds of people coming to see Him every single day. They hoped He would come and simply spend an afternoon with them.

And He said yes.

In the morning, a car carried 'Abdu'l-Bahá out of the noisy city. When He reached the gate of the small house, the family was waiting for Him, and so were about a dozen of their dearest friends. One of them was a man named Howard Colby Ives. Howard had been to the grand public gatherings that year, with their big rooms and large crowds. But it was small, quiet afternoons like this one, he later said, that taught him the most.

For a while, 'Abdu'l-Bahá sat inside, sipping tea and gently answering the questions people brought to Him, one by one. Then He said He would like to walk in the garden.

The garden was small, but it was cared for with love. There was a strip of green lawn, a few flower-beds, and a row of lilies in pots standing along the path. The lilies were just beginning to open, and their sweet smell drifted all the way back to the steps of the house.

'Abdu'l-Bahá walked slowly down the row of lilies. He bent low over each one. He looked closely at the shape of their petals. And then He began to talk with the children of the family — telling them about the long lily flower, and the wonderful way it slowly opens up.

The children laughed at the things He said. And 'Abdu'l-Bahá laughed right along with them.

The flowers, the green lawn, the laughing children, the friends gathered close, and 'Abdu'l-Bahá in the middle of it all — to Howard, the whole afternoon seemed to become one beautiful thing. He thought of it as a kind of sweet smell, a fragrance, that 'Abdu'l-Bahá carried with Him. Wherever He sat, it seemed to spread to everything around Him — to the lilies, to the laughter, even to the chairs the friends were sitting on and the food the family had made. When you went home from an afternoon like that, Howard said, it was almost as if the smell of the lilies came home with you, right there on your coat.

As the sun grew low, the afternoon ended with one last cup of tea on the porch. 'Abdu'l-Bahá blessed the family. He blessed the children. Then He took His seat in the car, and everyone stood on the porch and watched as He was driven slowly down the lane.

For many days afterward, whenever Howard caught the smell of lilies in any garden, the whole afternoon came rushing back to him.

That is the gentle, lovely thing about real kindness and love. You may forget the words that were spoken, but you remember how it felt to be near someone who was full of love — the way you might always remember the smell of flowers on a happy day. Even the smallest, quietest afternoon can be one of the most beautiful things you ever know.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "Fragrance of Lilies: A Sunday in the Master's Garden".

Ives, H. C.. (1937). *Portals to Freedom*. George Ronald. https://bahai-library.com/ives_portals_freedom