After watching the public funeral service remembering and honoring former first lady Rosalynn Carter yesterday, I am filled with gratitude for such a woman and the legacy of faith and service she leaves behind. If you didn’t see the service, I urge you to find it on pbs.com (or probably YouTube), and watch it, with tissues in hand. Be inspired and moved by a life of such grace and perseverance. I won’t list here the accomplishments Jimmy and Rosalynn made in their White House years and in the four plus decades since., but will offer two more personal reflections.
The first goes back about 15 years ago. My younger daughter was working for Habitat for Humanity International. Every year the Carters would volunteer at a Habitat build, which, of course, brought out much publicity and more volunteers than could be used. Habitat would select a small number of their employees to serve on the Carter build each year. And one year, my daughter was chosen. The Carters weren’t doing this for personal publicity—they were there to work and draw attention to how Habitat was meeting a great need. They slept in the same accommodations as the other volunteers, and ate at the common meals with the other workers. They were given assignments each morning and followed orders—both could swing a hammer. Before the volunteers started the construction work each morning, they would gather in a circle to pray together for the day’s work. And it just so happened that when the workers joined hands in the prayer circle, my daughter was holding hands with Rosalynn Carter, the former first lady of the United States.
The second goes back to February, 2017. Shortly before then, it was announced that Jimmy had an aggressive cancer, probably life threatening in the short term. My wife and I were in South Carolina for a winter break and I decided that I needed to go to Jimmy Carter’s Sunday school class at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains. I spent the better part of two days in Plains, GA, a simple town of just over 500 residents. There really is only one reason for someone without relatives in Plains to visit Plains. From that town came a president and first lady of the United States. That is reason enough to visit Plains.
The town didn’t disappoint me. It celebrated their favorite son and daughter in simple and authentic ways. The highlight—there were several—was Sunday morning. I arrived early Sunday morning, while it was still dark, to get in line in the Maranatha parking lot to get a seat for President Carter’s class. From my place toward the front of the line, I watched as cars streamed in, filling the parking lot to overflowing. When the doors opened, we entered the sanctuary slowly and orderly, as if we were entering holy ground, which in fact we were.
The sanctuary was quickly filled for the adult Sunday school class. People that didn’t arrive early enough were ushered to an overflow room with a large screen for projection. A woman (she is Billy Carter’s daughter) greeted us, giving us the ground rules for the morning and taking our questions. I asked, “Should we stand when Mr. Carter enters?” She said that in Plains he was just Jimmy and there was no need to treat him differently than anyone else. But when he entered from the door on my right, with that famous smile, I couldn’t help but stand. This humble man served as the president and leader of the free world for four years. He won a Nobel peace prize for his international work for peace. He was the key person, along with Rosalynn, in brokering a peace agreement between Israel and Egypt, once enemies, that endures to this day. But in the sanctuary of the Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, he was just the adult Sunday school teacher. Quarterlies with the Bible lessons were handed out (how long had it been since I had held a Sunday school quarterly?). Our teacher had some appropriate opening remarks, asking what states, and countries, we were from and making appropriate comments about each place he had visited. There weren’t many places that he and Rosalynn hadn’t visited.
There were two secret service officers standing at corners of the room, but we hardly noticed them. I thought, how lucky they are to walk behind and protect two people like these two. And I thought, when they are off duty, where do they go? Probably Americus down the road, which seems like a thriving city compared to Plains.
I still remember the Bible lesson Jimmy taught that day. It dealt with Abraham, the father of two nations that are still struggling to get along. I stayed for worship and waited to have my picture taken with them. Jimmy was already in his 90s and Rosalynn just about to turn 90, so we were asked not to shake hands with them. I left Plains thinking I likely would never return there, but I would never forget being there with Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter for a few hours.
A few hours ago, as I write this, Rosalynn’s casket was lowered in the soil near the simple home they built some six decades ago. Seeing Jimmy’s weakness on the television screen yesterday, it’s hard not to think that he will follow Rosalynn into that holy ground in Plains soon. I knew that Jimmy was weak, now nine months into hospice care, but I wasn’t fully prepared for how weak he is. A lesser man, a vainer man, would have probably stayed home with nursing care and watched the service on a screen. The drive to Atlanta from Plains is about 170 miles, one way—and there was a service at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains this morning. After 77 years of marriage partnership, it was no surprise that Jimmy made the trip to Atlanta, and back to Plains a few hours later, to see his lovely bride off on her next adventure.
Sailing toward Wisdom 