Broken Heart

In the afternoon He called me. He kept me in the room a long, long time, seeing many others while I sat there. When He had dismissed them all, He came close to me and took my hand.
"There is a matter,” He said, “about which I want to speak to you.
The photographs of the portrait you painted of Me, you have offered them for the Mashriqu’l-Adhkar. I know your circumstances, Juliet. You have not complained to Me, you have said nothing, but I know them. I know your affairs are in confusion, that you have debts, that you have that house, that you have to take care of your mother. Now I want you to keep the money” (for the photographs) “for yourself. No, no; do not feel unhappy,” (as I began to cry) “this is best. You must do exactly as I say. I will speak about this Myself to the believers. I will tell them,” He laughed, “that is it My command."
I thanked Him brokenly.
I can see Him now, pacing up and down the room in front of the line of Persians, who stood with bowed heads and folded arms in the Glory of His Presence, deeply aware of its Divineness.
Then Valiyu’llah spoke: “Juliet wants to know if You are pleased
with her, or not?”
(I had spoken out my troubled heart to dear Valiyu’llah.)
"I am very much pleased with the love of Juliet,” answered the
Master.
My Lord, I pray that my life may please You."
"Insha‘llah.” And that was all!
"And that my services may become acceptable to You. I know I have not begun to serve You yet."
The Master said nothing.
But that night He healed my broken heart, healed it by a tone in
His voice as He spoke to my mother, which was the essence of God’s tenderness, a tone unimaginable to those who have only heard the human voice.
(The Diary of Juliet Thompson, page unknown)


He had left orders that none were to be turned away, but one who had twice vainly sought his presence, and was, through some oversight, prevented from seeing him, wrote a heartbreaking letter showing that he thought himself rebuffed. It was translated by the Persian interpreter. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá at once put on his coat, and, turning towards the door, said, with an expression of unspeakable sadness, “A friend of mine has been martyred, and I am very grieved. I go out alone.” and he swept down the steps. One could then see how well the title of “Master” became him.
(‘Abdu’l-Bahá, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in London, p. 109)