What is it like to visit the home and the church of a former president?

In the spring of 2012, my wife and I were blessed to spend a week in Plains, Georgia, where I had been invited to lead in revival services at the Maranatha Baptist Church. Their most famous members, Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter, were present in every service.

I first met Governor Jimmy Carter in 1975 when I was a sophomore in high school and he was the featured speaker for the Alabama State FFA Convention in Montgomery. Interestingly the delegates at those conventions were seated in alphabetical order according to the school they represented, and since I served as a delegate from Alexandria High School, I had a front row seat.

Then in 2004, Amanda and I made the pilgrimage to Maranatha to attend President Carter’s Sunday School class and to stand in line with the other worshippers to have a photo taken with the 39^th president. On that particular Sunday, Mrs. Carter was traveling internationally with an initiative related to the Carter Center.

Never would I have guessed in 1975 that I would become a pastor and someday preach in President Carter’s home church. After the first service in 2012, the worshippers formed a line to greet the guest preacher and his wife and welcome them to Maranatha. The Carters stood in line like every other member, and when they greeted us, Mrs. Carter welcomed us and commended the sermon, while President Carter shook my hand and kissed my wife on the cheek. She was so in awe of President Carter she quipped, “I may never wash my face again.”

The tradition at Maranatha is for the guest preacher to have lunch with the Carter’s during the revival week. We met the Carter’s at Dylan’s Diner on Wednesday, and then accompanied them to their home for dessert and conversation.

Before departing the restaurant, President Carter took me to every table in the restaurant, asked the patrons where they were from, introduced me as the guest evangelist for their revival, and invited every person in the diner to attend the final service that night. Then he added to his invitation, “If you come, you can sit with me and Rosalynn.” That night the attendance peaked, and the Carters were surrounded by the guests he invited from the restaurant.

The Carter’s home is modest and welcoming. President Carter built most of the furniture. We talked about his upbringing in Plains, his career in the Navy, his visits with world leaders, his work with Habitat for Humanity, his love for the Gulf Coast, and the well-being of several of our mutual friends. It was remarkable to hear stories of his recent conversations with Fidel Castro, and I was particularly interested in his recollections of Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin and Egyptian President Anwar Sadat.

Mrs. Carter, who insisted that we call her Rosalynn, had prepared sugar-free banana pudding for our dessert. She served it in a Corningware dish much like my grandmother’s. When I went to the kitchen to assist her with the coffee, I noted that she used a white older model Mr. Coffee coffeemaker, just like the one we use at home. Our visit was rich in simplicity and authenticity.

After we finished dessert, President Carter gave us a tour of his study, where he gave us an overview of some of his newest commentaries, followed by a tour of his workshop, where he showed us a few of his paintings and samples of his woodworks.

Then he said to Amanda, an avid tennis player, “Would you like to see our tennis court?” After he shared a few tennis stories, he said, “We normally take a photo of the guest minister on the front porch, but since Amanda loves tennis, we can take a photo of the four of us here on the tennis court.” Then he requested that one of the Secret Service Agents take the picture, a photo that we will continue to treasure for the remainder of our days.

After the photoshoot, we returned to the house to retrieve a few books he had signed for us, and then they walked us to our car, so we could return to the Plains Inn to freshen up before the evening service.

On the casual walk to our vehicle, as the two of them held hands, they shared with us that their home had been given to the National Park Service so that visitors could continue to visit Plains for years to come. Then Mrs. Carter pointed to a gardenesque area in the front yard and said, “And this is where we will be buried.” And President Carter squeezed her hand and said, “But not yet, Rosie. Not yet.”

In his book, A Full Life, President Carter confessed, “Earlier in my life I thought the things that mattered were the things that you could see, like your car, your house, your wealth, your property, your office. But as I’ve grown older I’ve become convinced that the things that matter most are the things that you can’t see — the love you share with others, your inner purpose, your comfort with who you are.”

Before our visit, we knew the Carters were faithful servants and influential advocates for the poor, the persecuted, and the underserved. During our visit, we learned they were gracious, down to earth, and comfortable in their own skin.

Nearly two years ago, the world learned President Carter was beginning hospice care at home, rather than continuing to go back and forth to the local hospital. And then, surprisingly, Rosalyn died before him.

This past week, as President Carter’s completed his journey, I can imagine that his beloved Rosie was there to squeeze his hand and say, “Welcome home, Jimmy! Welcome home!”.

(Barry Howard serves is a retired pastor who serves as a leadership coach and columnist with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife, Amanda, currently reside on Cove Creek in northeast Alabama.)