Vignettes of Remarkable People in the Faith: Hand of the Cause of God May Maxwell:

 

     Today she told me that she had been unhappy all day and could not tell why. except that `half of herself was gone.' It was because I had separated my spirit from May's. I had sat by her bed and complained of her `wasted relationships' with na number of believers in Geneva, people who were in awe of her, and why. They were awkward with her and did not know what to say. I spoke of the Master, Who, she had said, instructed her to be `the centre of the love of God in the western world!' What of those faithful but unnoticed souls? I left May and went to sit in a chair by the window to cool off.
     The incident that precipitated my complaint was this. I was painfully aware of a wall between May and the Geneva people. That wall was built on a sense of personal inferiority experienced by the friends. There were, in particular, two sisters. They were physically unattractive and had little to offer in the social graces. They made their living making fishhooks. When these sisters came into contact with the charm and magnatism of May, they sensed a pathetic inferiority and wilted. I took May to task for this. I said to her, "Are you thinking of these people in Geneva as being as full of potential as ordinary Baha'is? Why is it they are not elated by your presence as we are? For those of us who know you, we can share friendship, inspiration, love, and talk. But to them, you are a great lady and they are not at home with you. They are not at their best. They feel awkward. Why are these  sisters depressed? They should be sparkling too,"

     I had such nerve to do this. I was wrong in every sense of the word. My notes continue:

     How could I have forgotten that our darling May had expended all her strength to make those difficult winter journeys to Geneva? I had forgotten that Willard and I were absolute nobodies in comparison to her, and that unity with her loved ones was the oxygen she breathed. In a few moments she called me, her voice weak and very tired, asking me to say healing prayers for her. Holding her hands, I said the Greatest Name and the healing prayers. She told me that life began to pour into her then 

    May had made us feel so at home that we could reproach her. She responded to my observations by planning a big party in the hotel. It was to be like a feast with lots of things to eat. She gave a personal invitation to the sisters, who felt as though they were being summoned by royalty. We went, all of us dressed up and inclined to be a little nervous. May greeted everyone with hugs and kisses and we tasted of the unity in the love of God. People forgot their fear of her and became expansively happy. The next day she was gone, on her way back to New York. 
  [Doris McKay, Fires in Many Hearts, pp. 123-124.]