Dear friends,
Today’s email is a reflection on Jimmy Carter from Bob Longino. Bob crossed paths with the former president as a reporter for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, but spent more time with Carter when Bob worked for Habitat for Humanity International. Thanks, Bob, for sharing this with us.
Tricia
“I know who you are!”
President Jimmy Carter spoke those words to me in the same direct, gruff manner I had frequently heard about, but, until that declarative moment, had never personally experienced.
He was a great man, a post-presidential icon of immense kindness, public service and world importance. Carter, however, could seem harsh at times while speaking. He didn’t suffer fools.
Was I a fool? Probably. I was relating to him some of my background before interviewing him for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution about the Jonathan Demme 2007 documentary “Jimmy Carter: Man from Plains,” which chronicled the public tour to promote his controversial book Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid. If I’d really thought about it, I would have realized a current or former president would have had all the briefing he or she would need before a conversation with just about anyone.
During my tenure at the newspaper, I may have encountered Carter at most two or three times. That changed when I began working in communications at Habitat for Humanity International.
President Carter and former First Lady Rosalynn Carter were Habitat’s greatest and most revered volunteers. For decades they would spend two weeks each year helping build homes with those in need in countries and cities around the world: among them Thailand, Vietnam, Haiti, China, Romania, South Korea, South Africa, India, New York City, Birmingham, Denver, and Dallas.
The Carters were inspiring, dedicated. They were simple, wise, and just plain folks. On a build site, Jimmy Carter would write his name in big letters on his hammer and his saw in the same kind of scribble young Andy used on the undersole of Woody’s “Toy Story” boot to signify what belonged to him.
Habitat volunteers and staff learned a lot about what a life could be from the Carters. Jimmy and Rosalynn’s words and their actions defined grace and underscored the message of Micah 6:8 — to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.
Among the lessons:
1. Volunteerism allows you to give to others, but what is unexpected is you get so much in return.
“It lets you connect with people who are different from you in a humbling way,” Carter said, “but also in a very gratifying and enjoyable way.”
2. Volunteerism means you do the work.
On a Habitat build site, if Carter walked by a home-in-progress and saw volunteers standing around, he’d gently chide them back to work, using phrases like “Didn’t you come here to help build a house? We’re not done. There’s more to do.”
3. Always be ready to help.
Carter did walk past one home-in-progress in Mexico and saw a man struggling with, of all things, a toilet. The former president immediately walked over and helped the man set and secure the toilet. Carter didn’t leave until that job was done.
4. Understand why you are volunteering.
“It’s not just governments that have a responsibility to resolve crises,” Carter said. “It’s really the conglomerate momentum of dedicated, individual citizens. And it’s particularly true in a democracy — to demonstrate our faith, our faith in ourselves, our faith in each other and our faith in God.”
Habitat named this particular volunteer effort the annual Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter Work Project. They were equals in their eyes. They were equals in our eyes.
Rosalynn said she became a pretty good carpenter working on Habitat build sites. She started to tear up at one event, relating how “we who have everything are making some very poor families very happy.”
She could be gruff, too.
We were on the back porch of the boyhood farmhouse in Plains. I was overseeing the taking of photos of the Carters with individual donors. After the final donor photo was taken, Rosalynn turned to me and said, “Now, let’s have a photo with you.”
Being the fool I am, I said, “Oh, no. I am working. This is about you and donors, not me.”
Her next words flew through the air like heat-seeking missiles: “Get over here!”
I responded immediately — just like my mother always taught me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
