THREE WEEKS IN NATURE

by Israel

Slowly, the group gathers at the picnic table. The conversation is light as we unwind from the hours before. Laughter and talk of future plans are scattered throughout as we wait. Our leader - community steward Sanders Thornburgh - arrives. With a smile, we are welcomed to the second week of a class entitled ‘A Community of Bio-diversity: Exploring Koinonia’s Non-human Residents.’ This particular week, it is explained, we will be traveling down the Peace Trail to get more acquainted with the nature that resides there. Sanders encourages us to enter the woods of Koinonia’s Peace Trail as if we were entering a holy sanctuary, that is, as quietly and reverently as possible. We don’t quite succeed at this, though a spirit of anticipation moves us along as the sound of many trudging feet fills the air.

A little distance into the woods, we gather in a circle atop a carpet of fallen leaves to read quotes from those who have come before us. These individuals saw the voice of God embedded in the wonder of nature, not just in scripture. Armed with these insights, we scatter to gather our own experiences of being close to nature. Each person chooses a particular spot and studies intently what is in that area: a tree, a spider with its web, vines twisting in and out of each other and upward. For fifteen minutes, we watch, soaking up the scene. Called back by the chiming of a bell, we return to share what we learned in our exploration.

Next week, we return to the sanctuary of nature on the Peace Trail, this time under the lumbering power of modern technology. The truck and the wagon send us deeper into the wooded greenery until we pull up alongside the Peace Gazebo, an intimate wooden structure beckoning to the weary, offering shelter as well as another chance to sit, relax, and connect with nature.

And this is exactly what we do. Sitting in a line wrapped around the circular interior of the structure, we tell stories. We share with each other our memories of meaningful encounters with some of nature’s non-human residents of Koinonia. The wonderment of creation is passed from person to person as the words paint for each of us mental images of the grandeur of all that is around us. In closing, our meditative silence is joined by the sound of the wind embracing us as it brushes up against us from the outside.

The final week of this exploration into Koinonia’s bio-diversity - guided by former Koinonia community member Bob Burns - we tour several of the various trees, bushes, and plants spotting the landscape of the main campus. Surrounded by shared nature-inspired wonder yet again, questions fill the air. What is this? What’s the name of that? Is there a medicinal use for those?

Nature kisses us yet again.

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Israel, community intern summer 2004, current Koinonia Service Partner

A Peace Trail Adventure

I was not sure what to expect. When I saw it, I smiled. A strange contraption indeed. This is what I would be riding in. I could tell a lot of care had been poured into it. Hours of labor and consideration had produced this unusual transport. For the seat, an old chair on wheels had been unearthed from someplace. A long board had been fastened with this to an ancient frame. The unnatural combo was completed by four loops – one on each of the platform’s four corners – which were going to function as shoulder straps. Four men were going to carry me on their shoulders down Koinonia’s Peace Trail. Because of my disability I had yet to experience this part of the campus. Today would be the day.

Soon all of us were piled into the truck on the way to the Peace Trail. The adventure had begun. It was not long before we had arrived. I was placed in the unlikely seat and hoisted into the air. With someone leading the way, we steadily moved forward.

It was quite a ride! I could feel the power of the men as I swayed back and forth with every step taken. As much as I wanted to take note of them, the surrounding woods succeeded in snagging only a small measure of my concentration. The bulk of my mental processing during the trip was consumed with the task of staying in my seat. My hands firmly gripped the armrests of the chair from start to finish.

Periodic resting times to check out certain markers along the way afforded me the chance to take a better inventory of my private thoughts. There was a lot welling up inside. These people cared. I had long since come to this conclusion, but this trip was an unexpected touch which deeply touched my soul. Koinonia had gone out of their way to demonstrate yet again that I mattered to them, that my contribution over the summer had been valued. I will never forget the trip through the woods.

Life brings many challenges, many completely unavoidable and totally overwhelming. The Koinonia community has reminded me in their own unique fashion that there are always those willing to be a support when I have reached circumstances too much for me. The journey of human existence is not a solo act. Do not travel alone.

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Mr. Israel is a volunteer at Koinonia Farm

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Koinonia Farm and Café Campesino

Koinonia Farm
by Bren Dubay

Koinonia and Café Campesino are good neighbors and friends. I thank the folks at Café Campesino for giving me this opportunity to shine a spotlight on our farm. We are located seven miles in one direction from Jimmy Carter’s in Plains and seven miles in the other direction from Bill, Lee, Tripp and all the good people at Café Campesino in Americus.

Koinonia is a Greek word meaning “community” or “fellowship.” The word is oft repeated in the Christian Scripture — in particular in the Acts of the Apostles — in reference to the fledgling church. What is the connection between the definition of the word and Café Campesino’s neighbor bearing the same name?

Koinonia is an intentional Christian community with a very dramatic history. To this community of believers, following the teachings of Jesus means treating neighbors equally, loving their enemies as well as their friends, and living a simple, shared life. Established in 1942, Koinonia’s very presence challenged materialism, militarism and racism. In the 1950s and ‘60s, the community endured bullets, bombs and boycotts, but survived. Koinonia has gone on to give birth to many outstanding organizations including the very famous Habitat for Humanity. Today Koinonia remains committed to living in community, providing hospitality to visitors and neighbors and working for social justice around the globe. We still get into plenty of trouble.

The community supports itself by selling homegrown pecans and all sorts of delicious treats made in our on-site bakery. We also sell organic goods, fair-trade and community-made arts and crafts, and an excellent selection of books. A popular set of books are the Cotton Patch Version of the Gospels by Clarence Jordan, one of the co-founders of the community. We support our ministries through donations.

Hundreds of visitors come through Koinonia each year. We are a working farm with beautiful pecan orchards and a peace trail to walk. We are also a Georgia historic site with a unique museum exhibiting Koinonia history as well as the history of African Americans in Sumter County. As a place of spiritual renewal, we host all sorts of retreats, including private retreats and service retreats for both groups and individuals. Visitors are welcome to help us both with daily chores on the farm and with the work of our ministries. Housing and an RV park are available for guests. Community members, guests and neighbors gather at noon on weekdays for a community meal. You may also bring a dish and join the Sunday night potluck at 6:00 p.m.

Koinonia has inspired a much performed off-Broadway musical, Cotton Patch Gospel, and an Emmy Award winning documentary, Briars in the Cotton Patch. To find out more about us or to order our products, please visit our website at www.koinoniapartners.org or give us a call at 229 924-0391. Come see us. Everybody’s welcome!

Bren Dubay has been director at Koinonia since May 1, 2004. She and others are available to speak to groups or to help you give a presentation about Koinonia. You can reach her via e-mail at dubay@koinoniapartners.org, by mail at 1324 GA Hwy 49 S, Americus, GA 31719 or by phone at (229) 924-0391 or (877) 738-1741.

Café Campesino is Georgia's first and only 100% Fair Trade Organic Coffee Roaster. Founded in in 1997 by Bill Harris after volunteering for Habitat For Humanity International.

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A Contemplative Moment

I have been surrounded by death in my life. I don’t sit and think about “the sum of it” a lot, or it would negatively affect me. The primary trips my family made together as I grew up was to funerals. When someone close to me died, I grieved at the time and focused on the good that the person left with me. I sometimes still sense the presence and guidance of my mother in particular, (Don’t get weirded out on me, here.) and sometimes another that has been dear to me.
The experiences of death in my family, near and extended, have varied a great deal – some a gradual aging or “disease” thing, some very sudden and tragic. They have helped me listen and observe in a deeper way to the deaths that others have experienced. It would be easy to say that’s because I’m a minister and counselor. But I’ve known too many other ministers & counselors who needed to be throttled for their approach to someone in the throes of grief. It does have everything to do with my faith, however. Though I will cry and grieve with the best of ‘em, I have a deep trust that God loves me and all those that have gone before. And I believe that life in general is trustworthy, despite the happenings of tragedy and loss that we all experience as a part of life.
About a year before my mom died, I was visiting her in the Tennessee nursing home in which she was living. I must have referred to something from the time I was growing up. Mom suddenly looked at me with tearful eyes and said, “Those days are over, aren’t they?” It wrenched my heart. She and I had known both good times and bad in “those days”, but it was the good times she was certainly remembering as she said this.
I shook my head no, pointed to my heart and then hers as I said, “Those days will always be with me right here, and they will always be with you right here. I take them with me wherever I go, and I know I’ll always take you with me wherever I go.” And I gently touched her cheek and hugged her.
It was difficult to watch my mother lose her physical and mental capabilities. She was a quiet, yet emotional rock for me. I found myself being that for her, insofar as I was able. Her moments of clarity became the ones that wrenched my heart, like this one. Those moments with her were among many that led me to a lot of grief counseling, and strangely, not always planned.
I discovered that a lack of accepting and grieving losses had a tight connection with most of my former clients’ lives – especially the addicts with whom I worked. Getting past their tough fronts was a necessary and rarely easy step. When I experience a “tough front” now, I know there’s a story – usually of abandonment, sometimes abuse, always neglect. Control (actually a false sense of it) becomes the safeguard, wherever it can be found – drugs or alcohol, gambling, workaholism, eating disorders, the list goes on. The chosen escape – conscious or unconscious -- always proves damaging to others as well. The Addictive Organization reveals to readers how much of what we do and think can become an unhealthy tangle, and how it takes an outside person to coach people through it. It’s a good read to contemplate.

Fairy L. Caroland currently lives and serves at Koinonia Farm in Americus Georgia

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Adopt a Tree at Koinonia

Dear Friend of Koinonia,

Some ask me even today how my family and I could have remained at Koinonia through those frightening years of bombs, bullets and boycotts. My wife Ora and I moved to Koinonia in 1949 and remained until 1963. We came with our children, Lora and Carol, and three other children, Charles, John, and Chrys, were born while we were there. I answer the question “How?” with “How could we not have remained?” Koinonia lived everything in which we so passionately believed — non-violence, brotherhood/ sisterhood of all peoples and a life rooted in simplicity and service. It was much more difficult to leave than it ever was to dodge the dangers heaped upon us in the 1950s and ‘60s.

By 1963, Koinonia had been reduced to three families: the Jordans, the Wittkampers and the Brownes. Because of the boycotts, we came to realize we could no longer support even three families. One had to go, and after much prayer and discussion, the decision was made that it be the Brownes. Despite having to say goodbye, my love for Koinonia has never wavered, and I have never lost my faith in its mission.

Recently, my wife Cay and I (my dear Ora died in 1995) spent time with the community. We rejoiced at what we saw. Koinonia is still devoted to living simply and to serving its neighbors both near and far through a variety of ministries. The community works hard to be self-sustaining so that donations may be used for those ministries.

Cay and I want to help. She reminded me of a story I’ve shared from time to time. Perhaps you know it: one rainy Christmas Day, Clarence Jordan was found out in the orchard planting pecan trees. “What in the world are you doing out here, Clarence?” someone asked. “It’s Christmas Day! It’s raining, and you’ll never benefit from those trees. It takes 25 years for them to produce anything.” Clarence replied, “I’m planting them for the people that are coming after me.”

I’d like to join Clarence in doing something about those trees in order to benefit those who will come after me. One way to assure Koinonia’s economic viability is to find individuals and/or groups who are willing to adopt the pecan trees. Enclosed you will find a brochure that explains this new program. It’s a joy to initiate the program by writing this letter and I have given Koinonia permission to continue using the letter until every tree is adopted. In addition, Cay and I have pledged to work on behalf of the Adopt-a-Tree Program as long as our health allows. I ask that you join us.

Sincerely,

Conrad Browne

Conrad Browne lived at Koinonia 1949-1963. You can read more about his experience here

A Contemplative Moment

I remember the community laughter when a recent visitor spoke of coming to Koinonia for contemplation, because there was the automatic acknowledgement that, in reality, contemplation is more difficult to find here (at least right now) due to our day-to-day busyness. That is sad to me, because it is very, very peaceful here – even in the midst of our busyness. And I know how much we need contemplation among all the “other” that we do. It is easy to not think as clearly, when we must rush from one project to another. Nevertheless, the one thing I am glad to keep hearing from visitors is how much they are “fed” here. They inevitably speak of receiving more than they give, no matter how hard they have worked here. Perhaps that’s because part of our “work” is the feeding of our visitors – not just with our noon meals during the week, but with our own souls and hearts. As Clarence once told Milliard, “People are more important than pecans.”

I’m an introvert by nature (no laughter here, please), so I know with certainty the need for contemplation -- even for you extroverts. I receive my own energy by being alone, not being with people. So I have to “back up and regroup” before and after being with people – especially LOTS of people. Otherwise, I become drained very quickly. That’s also why you won’t hear me chatting in the office much. Laughing yes – chatting a bunch, no.

When I was counseling in the addiction field, I felt almost in a vegetative state at night during the week and on weekends. Two hours of daily group therapy with very hard-core addicts will do that to you, not to mention the individual time spent with some of the same people. I understand, if only in a human sense, Jesus “feeling the power go out of him” when he was touched by a woman who wanted healing. I understand the line from “Jesus Christ, Superstar” when Jesus is surrounded by a swarm of people, all reaching out for him, when he cries out, “Stop – there are too many of you!”

I remember my mother, and how there was frequently too many of “us” (seven children). I’m still amazed that I woke to hear her humming or singing most days. She woke my sister closest in age to me, and I each day with “Good morning, pretty ladies.” I miss contemplating with my mom. It was easy and refreshing to be in her presence without any words. She didn’t talk a great deal, but when she did, I wanted to know what she thought and felt. A friend who had spent some time in our home during growing up years told me a few years ago that she remembered my mother as a very elegant lady. Others have made similar remarks. I think she would have laughed at that, but enjoyed the tribute. She was elegant at times – She looked great in a hat and gloves. Her younger pictures reveal her as someone who would have been known as “a real looker”.

But her primary elegance was in treating other people elegantly. She was a gentle spirit that treated other people gently. That, in spite of the fact that she swung a mean ax at a chicken for dinner, and a steak didn’t have a chance with the meat cleaver/tenderizer in her hand. After all these years, I know that’s how she relieved a lot of stress. I’m amazed that none of us were the recipient of her stress. God knows there were times when each of us deserved to be – not with an ax or a meat cleaver, mind you.

May we always treat those who come here “elegantly”. And may we all find those times of contemplation that we truly need.

Fairy L. Caroland currently serves at Koinonia Farm in Americus Georgia

Queen E. White Remembers the Beginning

by Bren Dubay
Koinonia Farm

“If all the folk were like the ones at Koinonia…well, this world would be a whole lot better off, I tell you for sure,” says Queen E. White.

Queenie is a rare woman. She has a way of welcoming every new person who crosses her path. For the many years she has been a presence at Koinonia, her laughter and love are often what people remember, years after even brief visits. Queenie is also living history, both a witness to and a participant in the history of Koinonia Farm, and later of Habitat for Humanity. She and Koinonia share a birthday—they both were born in 1942, and turned 63 in 2005. Koinonia, founded by Clarence and Florence Jordan and Mabel and Martin England, is the intentional Christian community that gave birth to Habitat for Humanity. Like many good ideas, this home building ministry began as a tiny seed that later bloomed into the full flower it is today. One sunny day this fall, Queenie and I sat together in my office, with the view of the pecan orchards across the road. In her inimitable storytelling style, deliberate, funny, and full of love she told me the history she has shared so many times before. Queenie enjoys sharing the story.

“Clarence was a good neighbor. He helped out the best he could. The people at Koinonia were always coming over and helping to fix up a place. They’d build whole houses sometimes. There were some terrible places people lived in — holes in the floor, no running water. The first white people I ever knew were the white people at Koinonia. I was just a little child then. I was a little bit older when I found out not all white folks were like them.”

Queenie clearly remembers the first time she realized that all whites might not have the same high regard for her as those at Koinonia. When walking to school as a first grader, a car with four white teenage boys inside drove up alongside her. She doesn’t remember the words they yelled, but she remembers the bottle one of them threw.

“It landed right in front of me and broke. Some of the pieces flew up and got me. I wasn’t cut bad. I was just real scared.”

If you were to come today to visit Koinonia Farm and take a tour, you’d see the house that is known as “the first Habitat house.” It was a house built by and for Queenie’s parents, Bo and Emma Johnson.

“I think my daddy was the first person Clarence ever hired to work full time on the farm. Koinonia didn’t have much, but what they had, they shared. My daddy and my mama wanted to buy a house. They went and talked to Clarence about it and next thing you know, daddy, Clarence, Millard and my mama were picking out the exact spot where they were going to build a brand new house. We were over excited.

“The day they moved in, well, it was a day full of just the purest joy. I was all grown by then, but it was like I was a little child. We were all busy unpacking stuff and laughing. My mama, daddy, brother and sister were running all over the house talking about who wanted which bedroom, who was going to be where. There was some arguing, but everybody was really happy. It was so happy.”

Though we now call that house “the first Habitat house,” that title was a long time coming. It would still be almost a decade before it became clear that Bo and Emma Johnson’s house was the beginning of an international movement. In 1963, when Millard and Linda Fuller first visited Koinonia, they heard about the home repair and house building projects the community had taken on over the years. As a young teenager, Millard had spent a summer helping to build a home for a neighbor. The seed had been planted and had been watered in both Clarence and Millard’s lives. When the Fullers returned to Koinonia in 1968, Millard and Clarence began to talk and dream of a project that was bigger than helping out a neighbor here and there. Bo and Emma were the catalyst for turning that dream into a deed.

Eventually, Koinonia set aside enough of its farmland to build two neighborhoods of some 60 homes — Koinonia Village and Forest Park Village. The land and houses were sold with non-interest loans and the willingness of the home owner to be a part of the build, the “sweat equity” concept. All told, Koinonia built 192 houses on the farm and in Americus and Plains, Georgia, before passing on the hammer.

“From my mama and daddy’s house to Habitat for Humanity building houses all over the world. I’m so proud of that,” smiles Queenie.

She said she never gave it a thought when she was helping her family move into that first house that some day it would be a neighborhood and she, too, would purchase a home in it.

“Oh, my, yes, I remember that day. The day my two little children and I moved into our home. To buy my own house, that was a dream come true.”

By this time, a neighborhood park had been built, and it is this park and the children that Queenie remembers so vividly.

“Seems like there was always a birthday party for some little child. We’d celebrate it in the park. There was a real nice playground there for the children. We’d play volleyball. Baseball sometimes. Millard was a great volleyball player. Like Clarence was before he died.* Millard would have us all laughing. We’d have a big old barbeque. People from Koinonia were always there. Those were happy times.”

Throughout her younger days, Queenie returned again and again to Koinonia to enjoy her friends there.

“Can’t think of my childhood without thinking of Koinonia. I played there, went to Bible school there. Clarence or one of the good folk from Koinonia would come around in a wagon to pick all us children up and take us to the farm. We’d have fun all day long.”

As a teenager and young adult, Queenie often became part of the seasonal help that Koinonia was able to hire from time to time.

“But like my daddy, they just couldn’t do without me being there all the time. They couldn’t do without my good cooking,” she shares with a hearty laugh. After 32 years at Koinonia, Queenie hung up her apron in July, 2005. She returns to the farm often to visit.

Today Koinonia no longer builds houses. As the home building ministry grew, the community realized that to keep up with the growth, it would have to sacrifice the original vision — that of being a small intentional Christian community modeled after the description of the early church in the Acts of the Apostles and helping out its neighbors according to the needs and challenges of the times. It was decided that some in the community would leave to nurture and grow home building in a separate organization while others remained at the farm to carry on the original vision.

Though Koinonia no longer builds houses, it continues to help out its neighbors with home repairs.

“I like the name of that program Koinonia has,” Queenie says. “It’s called Heart to Heart. That says it. Neighbors helping neighbors. From my mama and daddy’s house to Habitat for Humanity building houses all over the world. For sure, I’m so very proud of that. I’m happy, too, that Koinonia is still here, still helping its neighbors. Heart to heart.”

*Bo and Emma Johnson’s house was under construction when Clarence Jordan died suddenly of a heart attack on October 29, 1969.