Death

Peopled Out

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Hi Friends,

I feel bad saying this, but sometimes I get peopled out. My day-to-day life is pretty quiet. Some might even describe it as dull. And then on rare occasions, I have one social engagement after another. I wish these events could be evenly distributed. I think I would be better at socializing if these things didn’t tend to get stacked up. Living in Florida, people want to visit in the spring. I would too. It’s incredible. But I wish people would visit…not all at once.

In the last two weeks, I have seen a slew of people I love. On June 25, Will and I drove up to Orlando to have dinner with his two best friends from childhood, one of whom lives in Texas. Their wives are wonderful and I loved being with them. It was such a sweet night. Two days later, we flew to Michigan and stayed with my sister and her husband and son. My cousin and her daughter swung by too. The next day, we hung out with my best friend from sixth grade, and then we landed at our vacation spot, where I am related, somewhat distantly, with a fantastic crew of probably fifty people. A few hours after we checked in, my niece arrived with her four children, all seven and under. I adore these people. The ten-month-old baby fell asleep on me and really, what is better? Plus, all my guys were there. We had fun plans to see some beautiful places and also chill on the beach. I want to be thankful for every minute, but the truth is I get peopled out. My social battery, as one of my sons puts it, gets depleted. Add any element of hurt feelings (kind of inevitable every once in a while) and I crave some time alone.

But God has a sense of humor. On Thursday afternoon, my last day in Michigan, I found myself with a book on a bench outside of a library. I sat down and exhaled like it was a spa. The sun was shining. A gentle breeze was blowing, intermittently. But before I got through a chapter, an older woman came and sat, too. She struck up a conversation by commenting on my tan. Ninety minutes later I had not read another word, but this woman, Linda, felt like a dear friend. Her husband passed away unexpectedly at the end of May. She was in the midst of unbearable grief and I hope I provided some encouragement. She told me some hilarious stories as well, and I oddly walked away feeling lighter. Somehow the old social battery wasn’t as dead as I thought. Or Linda somehow charged it.

Either way it was further proof of the Proverb: “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9).

Making a new friend was not at all what I thought I needed, but God knew. I am going to send Linda a book or two on grief, if you happen to have any good recommendations.

With Love,

Kristie

Two Weddings and Two Funerals

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Hi Friends,

I hope you are having a wonderful start to the year. While some of you are enjoying the majesty of a fresh blanket of snow, the people in L.A. are facing unbelievable loss. Although I have never lived in California, it is one of my favorite places to visit. A drive along the Pacific Coast Highway is awe-inspiring and now so many who have had that beauty as part of their daily routine have lost everything. I know Christian organizations are already stepping in to help, and I expect churches to care for this community in need. Praise God that although the church falls short in countless ways, it shows up in times of crisis. In fact, I signed up to volunteer after the devastation in North Carolina with my denomination, but I have yet to be called about anything because so many Christians step up.

But other than witnessing the devastation and praying for those in need, how is your 2025 starting out? I am loving my new Bible reading plan: (1) starting the day with lectio divina; and (2) using Paul David Tripp’s Everyday Gospel Bible. I have written in my prayer journal everyday so far and have hit the gym every day but Sunday. I am working a couple days a week this semester, and that feels just right because with a senior I want to soak up all these “lasts.” By the end of the month, I’ll be 53 years old and will have attended my last Jackson 5 sporting event (unless there’s an unexpected playoff run that takes basketball into February). It would be fun to know how many hours I’ve spent in the last two decades joyfully cheering on my sons — such a blast! How will I fill this time in my next season of life? I have some ideas.

But as I look back over the last year, I am struck by how it feels like there’s already a shift afoot. I attended two weddings. I knew both brides and one groom from a very young age, so these were very special events. It’s so sweet to watch this next generation start their married lives. And some of my contemporaries are already grandparents. I am excited about this next season, even while I soak up the blessings of today.

In 2024 I attended a funeral of a friend just four years older than me. The grief of a life cut short sobers you. Hearing her children speak at her funeral left me feeling committed to gratitude — what love these three have for their faithful and doting mother. I am so glad I got to be there to witness it. Their words play through my mind often.

In 2024, I also missed the funeral of a friend from church. She was on the younger side too, maybe around 70. She’s actually the first woman I met at our church. She was so friendly and easy to talk to. She was an accomplished writer, and told me about a book she wrote on motherhood. In short, we were instant friends. One time when we were leaving Bible study at the same time she noticed that a neighbor was throwing out some pottery. At her suggestion, we did some serious dumpster diving, both walking away with some lovely ceramic pots. Although she had been fighting cancer for a long time, her death was quite unexpected. Somehow I missed the email announcing her funeral service and failed to attend. I was so heartbroken to learn I was just sitting at home, when her life was celebrated. I’m reading her book now and wish I wouldn’t have waited, wishing I would’ve been at her funeral to learn more about her and meet her children.

In 2025, I want to be more committed to rejoicing with those who rejoice, and mourning with those who mourn (Romans 12:15). Let’s all go to the weddings. Let’s all attend the funerals. Sending cards is nice, but let’s make an effort to be present at important events. Maybe the command isn’t just one of support — sharing joys and burdens — maybe fulfilling the command changes us. Maybe it makes us more fully human. In fact, rejoicing with those who rejoice, and mourning with those who mourn makes us more Christlike.

Blessings on your 2025!

Kristie

P.S. I am not following the linked article on lectio divina exactly, but it gives you a general idea. I am using the same few verses for a whole week, meditating and praying over them each morning, using them to guide what I am recording in my prayer journal. On Monday, I’ll be on Ephesians 1:3-10 if you want to join me.