Now that Kara is gone, I’ve struggled to find the vocabulary to talk and think about her. I hate talking about her in past tense. And I personally don’t like the word “pass” to describe death. I find myself using the word “loss” a lot, as in, “I lost my best friend.” But when I hear myself say this, I bristle because I know it’s inaccurate—Kara isn’t lost. As long as we are headed to Heaven when we die, we will see her again. Kara is not lost, she is restored. And my friendship with her has not ended or disappeared; it has simply been interrupted. For a very short time until it, too, is restored.

Jonna was in town shortly before Kara’s death. We enjoyed coffee together and I listened to her tell me about this visit, this time that was likely her last spent with Kara on this earth. She spoke with grace and love. She shared her heart and her thoughts about the children and how much she loves them, we talked about how special aunts are, and spoke of the hurt that comes with loving someone so deeply. The dreams that will never come to fruition, the pain of having to say goodbye prematurely.

Indiana friends, come celebrate the life of Kara Tippetts this Friday evening, April 10!

We would love to have you join us in remembering the Hope and Joy that was displayed so powerfully through Kara—both in her life and in her death. Grief can be messy; let's journey through some of it together.

I’ve been trying to write about last Tuesday evening. Jason invited all the girls to come over. Kara had only been gone for 2 days, yet somehow it both felt like forever and didn’t feel real. But sitting at their huge table that Jason made from reclaimed wood that would have sat twice as many as were there, Kara’s absence was so obvious. I kept glancing over to the loveseat in the adjoining room where Kara spent so much time. Even at Christmas when everyone was bustling around, she was quietly sitting, enjoying the activity but unable to participate. I had grown accustomed to her presence, which had grown quiet over the months. Once boisterous and loud and lively, her presence became muted, quiet, meek. But still Kara.