Linda & Jim Coulter-Jones in Nicaragua by Linda Coulter-Jones
It was 1995. I was sick. Really sick. Suffering badly from polycystic ovary syndrome, I was deeply anemic, extremely poor trying to finish my doctoral degree, and my children were suffering with me. The Local Assembly of Iowa City asked me to come in for a visit and to talk about my plans. I was getting ready to move away. I couldn’t afford my rent, I was working two jobs, selling plasma, trying to be a mom without success. I was going to leave.
But the Assembly said no, that I had been moving from place to place for too long, dragging my children behind me as I sought to finish my education. They said no, I needed to stay a little longer so that my kids could finish the school year in the same school for a change. And I said yes.
After three procedures to treat the PCOS, I was exhausted, freezing and anemic, and without funds. But the area had a conference on the Baha’i Funds, and the Assembly encouraged me to go. It was three days before the end of the school year, and I was packing my 15-year-old van to move back west, where I felt I belonged. I really didn’t want to go, but when a member of the Assembly came to pick me up, I resentfully left for Cedar Rapids to sit in a conference about why we should be contributing money to Baha’i funds, when I didn’t have food in the house.
The Indian Creek Center is a lovely refuge away from the city, with gardens, paths, trees, and a conference center. I entered to see a big group of lovely, smiling people, greeting each other with real joy, sharing stories and memories. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be left alone. But I sat and started to scan the crowd. I had been greeted by a few people and was looking for others I recognized.
I saw a man sitting at the feet of one of the oldest women I had ever seen. Edna was 93, smiling and radiant, and I just assumed the young man at her feet was grandson, or family. He was completely absorbed in her, and when she asked for water, he instantly jumped to his feet to bring it to her. I remember thinking, “Oh man, what would it be like to have someone love me that much?” When it was time for lunch, I left, went for a walk instead of standing – wobbling – in line. When I got back the line was just a few people, including a teenager at the end. I took my place behind him, and we chatted a bit, casual conversation between strangers.
After lunch was an icebreaker; a list of Baha’i activities in which one had participated. Find people who had completed the activities. I dutifully introduced myself. Yes, Local Assembly. Yes, State teaching committee. Yes, children’s classes. Suddenly the man at Edna’s feet was in front of me with the young man from the lunch line. He introduced himself and his son, and I flippantly said, “Oh yeah, I know Chris. We go back a long time.” Like 30 minutes. He was confused and asked how we knew each other. We laughed a bit.
When I got home, I had to go buy some medicine, and my van wouldn’t start. Dead again!! I had to postpone my move until I could buy a new starter for my van and install it. That weekend, May 1995, the National Assembly was broadcasting an event, and I went to see it. The man, Jim Jones was there, and after watching the broadcast, we talked about a survey he was conducting on Baha’i activities in Iowa. I asked him to email me the survey and I would fill it out and send it back. And we talked. Maybe 20 minutes, and it was time to go. He asked for my phone number, and we talked by phone a few times during the week. The third weekend was a Baha’i picnic, and he was there again. And again, we talked. He asked himself to my house for a dinner and to view a video he had seen of a Baha’i – Renée Pasarow – who had experienced an early death from anaphylactic shock, and remembered watching herself in the ambulance, and listening to a doctor say there was no point in working on her, she was dead. She was revived and the movie was about her experience including her vision of the Universal House of Justice and the Baha’i community.
We talked for hours afterwards about our lives, our ideas about what constituted the reality of our beings, that we are spirit and not just body. But the bodies were attracted, one to the other. We began to chat on the phones, and to see each other regularly. There was a memorial service in the community for yet another Baha’i martyr in Iran, and we went together. NO one could believe we were dating. Let me explain. Jim Jones is one of the finest men I have ever known. He is extremely hard-working, dedicated to his two boys but an introverted, quiet, reserved person who loves to sit in the back and be invisible. I am the one who wants to be in front with the microphone, always sociable, always chatting, always adventurous. If he were a flower, he would be the most unobtrusive flower ever. I would be a bird of paradise. I would be a peony. He avoids attention, and I crave it.
We were married that November in the house we rented, which later became Baha’i property. It was a small wedding with about 20 friends, but one of our witnesses, the 93-year-old woman, Edna XXXXX had fallen and broken her hip and could not attend. After the wedding, we went to her house in our finery, and spent the evening with her going through her photo albums with her talking about her own wedding. That pretty much set the pattern for our lives.
Life had its difficulties, but after about 15 years, I was let go from my work and he was being retired early from teaching Spanish. We had been visiting Guatemala for several years with students originally, then I started looking at Central America as a place for us to retire and be of service to the Faith. I was accepted by the Nicaraguan National Assembly as a pioneer, and alone and without speaking Spanish, I lived in Messiah for about 7 months to see if I could adapt to the culture and live in another world. He stayed home and worked.
When I came back, it was time for us to start making plans. A Pioneering conference in Green Lake inspired us to think very seriously about where we could move. But we both agreed it was an intensely personal decision, as we both had young families and our roots were in the US. He went to one garden to pray and meditate, and I to another. China was looking for pioneers and was paying well for English teachers. So was South Korea. There were several other “hot spots” looking for Baha’is who could help the communities grow, and so I prayed for guidance. For me, it was very clear. I wanted to go back to Guatemala, where we had visited several times with students. I walked back to the office to talk to someone about it, and as I was walking in by one door, he was coming in the other. Guatemala it was!!
It was not easy to leave. It took us about 2 years to plan, to sell, to convince family that it was okay. Jim was in contact with a man starting a school who needed an English teacher immediately, but the house wasn’t selling. So I went alone. No Spanish, no real experience teaching English, no one but me, but I did it anyway, to break the trail for him to follow.
Nine years later, we have been teaching for 9 years here, we have lived in 13 different houses, we have been on Assemblies, teaching committees, helped with summer schools, and were so happy. Then I got a letter that I had a bank account with my stock options from my work. Enough to buy property, or build a house, but not both. Again, we prayed.
We approached the National Spiritual Assembly with a proposition. They have a property in the middle of the country that has been used as an institute for about 35 years, but for lack of funds was basically abandoned. We offered to build a structure where we would live out our lives and when we passed it would belong exclusively to the NSA. Lawyers, consultations with children and family, and we got approval.
Now we are living in a thriving Baha’i institute building community with Baha’is but also with neighbors. We have converted fallow land to gardens, made friends with people in high places, are working with women to help them improve their lives, and are teaching English across the country. We have meetings here, projects, conferences, events, and activities for everyone from the National Assembly to the local government.
We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Nor do we care. We are living our best life right now, building community, creating opportunities for students to learn, in service as much as we can. And filled with gratitude for all that we have been given.
A young friend told me she thinks of us as her rich grandparents. It is a common misconception here, that we are rich Americans living the life of luxury in the big house behind strong walls. The reality is very different. I read this morning my wisdom for today, and gave it to her. There are two ways to be rich. One is to earn more, the other is to want less. We have all we need, and enough to help students, people with medical needs, young couples building their lives, and to share materially with the community. But that is the least important. We are rich in service, to each other, and to the world.
Linda sent in this lovely update about their experiences in Guatemala on August 6, 2024: Jim (Jones) and I took part in bringing our local Guatemala community to visit the site of a future Temple in Guatemala. There were about 35 of us on an old school bus Sunday morning heading to the mountains near Lake Amatitlan (NOT Atitlan, which is a more popular tourist area) to celebrate the 19-Day Feast of Perfection. The area has an abandoned citrus orchard on it with huge — and very sour — grapefruits and oranges that are growing wild, and a lovely if overgrown pine forest. The community has been saving money in little plastic banks for several months so that anyone who wanted to go, could, if they had funds or not. For about $10, a family could enjoy the excursion which included time in the afternoon at a lakeside community park. We had music, devotions, children laughing and playing, and wonderful camaraderie. The Local Assembly is working hard to unite the community as we are also at ground zero for the construction here in Ecoeventos Shiraz of a new community structure designed in the form of a 9-pointed star.