Mabel Ives, after she married Howard Colby Ives (my father) became known to
many who loved her as Rizwanea. For very many years, after they were
married, my father and Rizwanea traveled and taught the Faith. It was their
entire life. They traveled through the New England states, through
Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, New York and many many more - always
teaching, always leaving an established Assembly behind them. It was a
gypsy life. It meant that never once, during all the years, did they really
have a home; no place where they might be surrounded by their own things,
where they might put down roots. Always they lived surrounded by strange
and alien furniture, by the bare wall and arid atmosphere of barren hotels,
boarding houses, and cubbyholes where they might sleep while, during their
waking hours, they earned their living and taught their beloved Faith.
At last, after many years, with her health failing, Rizwanea felt she could
endure no more. She had come to the end. She must have a home. She needed
it with every atom of her being - needed it as a bird needs to make a nest
in the springtime or as anyone, weary and spent, needs to rest in the sun.
At this time they - she and my father were living in a particularly
difficult situation. It was a furnished room and the landlady was
constantly complaining of everything they did. They used too many lights,
they took too many showers using up too much water, and the clacking of
Father's typewriter was driving her crazy. So, one morning, Rizwanea told
Father how she felt: She had come to the end; she could endure no more; she
was unable to go one step farther. They had a long period of consultation,
and at the end, Father told her that, of course, he would do as she wished,
but would she, in turn, do one thing for him? Would she wait just one more
day before making a truly final decision - and would she spend this day in prayer?
She agreed. So after Father had left her to go out and attend to his business details, she kept
her promise. She began to pray. And as she prayed, it came to her just
what, in its depth and beauty, submission, detachment, and servitude really
meant. And it came to her that submission - true and complete submission to
the Will of God - was the first basic step. So she began to pray for
submission - she prayed and prayed, and finally, submission came to her -
but with it came the realization that submission was not enough.
Well, then, what was enough? What should she pray for now? And she
remembered that Baha'u'llah had written that we must be grateful for the
circumstances to which we were submitting. Grateful? Grateful for this
horrid little room? Grateful for the beastly, complaining landlady?
Well, all right - if Baha'u'llah said so she, Rizwanea, would be grateful.
But it wasn't easy. She was pacing the room, thinking, praying, fighting
and now she went to the window to stare out into the street. 'Teach me to
be grateful! Teach me to be submissive! I will be grateful! I will be
submissive! She clenched her small fists. She fought and she suffered. And,
finally, the first warm touch and then the warmer flow of submissive
gratitude surged over her. But, the next moment, she realized that even
this was not enough. Not enough? When she'd fought so hard and she was so
tired. What then was left? What should she pray for next?
And it came to her that now she must pray for love. love for her
nerve-wracking circumstances; love for her harsh landlady; love for the
whole situation that had led to the crisis - the blessed crisis that had
forced her to learn this lesson. So, now, Rizwanea prayed that she might
love that she might be filled with love that she might be able to pour out
this love.
And her prayers were answered. When Father returned to her, it was to meet
a radiant woman - a woman filled with the glory of complete submission to
the Will of God - a woman rich with the glory of gratitude for tests - a
woman overflowing with the clear crystal waters of the love of God.
And, for many years more, she poured out these waters for the glory of the
Cause she loved so well.
Told to me by both Rizwanea
and Howard Colby Ives c. 1936
MIBN Stories Copyright (c) 1998
I am now sitting alone in my room across from the southern most end of the KitaSakado station on the Tobo Tojo line, so that I always hear the train announcemetnts, until about 1AM. I am rereading Portals To Freedom. I was somewhat annoyed that Mr. Ives never mentioned his wife/family in this story. I now suspect that it occurred before he married. How incredible to be single for so long. In any case, my Bahai journey isn't as noble and victorious as the one presented here. But, I feel a momentary kinship to Rizwanea's moment when her husband left to attend to business. I am gradually preparing for next March, as though He will return into my life,,,,and so it seems to me that I am dithering in the first stage of prayer to receive the attribute of "submission"....to be continued...........
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