Koinonia, defined as the communion through intimate participation, was the name of the house I lived in America. The house had that name because it was a place of communion for my dear friends and I.
Emilie, Lauren, and Hiryana, and (Sarah and Renee) who shared with me memories that will not fade. It was an open house for anyone, even sometimes when we were not there. We let a street cat (Kiara/Kikii) and her kittens adopt us: Barton, Moses and Mini. We watched that new life begin. We let other friends even adopt us and crash there when they needed.
We were the sister house to two brother houses. Koinoinia was full of people on Sundays when everyone would come over for lunches. Koinonia had the honor of having the Archbishop of Uganda and Pastor Onesimus come over for lunch. We also had multiple ‘diversity’ nights. We laughed a lot, we played pranks on people, we cried a lot, and we all changed a lot. We made mistakes, and we did many good things. We bonded, a bond that three years later still pulls me back to Chattanooga.
It was a place of communion, a place of growth.
Koinonia burned down on New Years Eve, and with it burned some of my most precious and hated memories. A drunken party turned it all to ash. But memories don’t burn.
Memory, one of the most loved and hated parts of the human mind. We attach ourselves to human objects because of memory and other times we run from it. We try and blot things out of our minds and sometimes it is that tissue that we hold on to for years because it was precious at one time of life.
Koinonia was that to me. A mixture of the things you blindly cling to, and the things you try to blot out and forget. When she burned though, I only wanted it all back. 3 years ago seems like a long time ago, something that has started to get pushed into long term memory, but many times I think of that time as just yesterday. Memories I will never forget.
So goodbye to the house of those memories. Now it is just me and my mind…and a few pictures.