Karin

Every so often I end up pondering what is appropriate for blogging, and what isn't. There seem to be issues and events too important, too sacred, for such an open and casual form of communication.

On the other hand, with the way my life is (dis)organized these days, many of my dearest and closest friends keep up with me through this blog, either commenting or sending me emails in response to what they read here.

Last Tuesday, my dear friend Nancy let me know that our mutual friend Karin had died in a car accident last Sunday. Tuesday was already "one of those days," when everything was going wrong. I was sick, I caught a bunch of my students cheating, I was behind in grading and lesson-planning. When I checked my email during my prep period, I was merely procrastinating from doing the things I truly needed to be doing.

Then I read Nancy's email and fell apart. All those things that had seemed so important were suddenly inconsequential. I sat in my classroom and cried and cried.

All week I've been trying to decide if and how I wanted to honor Karin on this blog. Today, while I was buying things I don't need at Target, Jen called me and we had a fairly meaningful conversation. It was very impressive, since I tend to talk in generalities while in public (for the record, I hate it when people talk on their phone while in public, and try not to do it myself, but I gave myself a pass this time: I needed to talk just then).

I was just getting back to the privacy of my car, where I was going to tell Jen about Karin (who she had met a couple years ago). Just as I said, "Karin died...," my phone died! Talk about bad timing. This is the email I wrote Jen just now when I got home.

(The prevalence of the word "just" in this piece is an unintended homage to my South African friends-including Karin-who had a great impact upon how I speak my native tongue).

Jen--

Sorry about that! I hope you didn't hear what I said just as the phone died, because that was a REALLY bad way to go out. So, here's what I was going to say:

My friend Karin died last Sunday in a car accident on her way to church. It was one of those classic 10-passenger church van accidents. She was in Colorado (the Springs or Pueblo, I'm not quite sure) at a training center. It's been a really hard week because of that (and some other not-so-dramatic things). But, as you were talking about suffering (or not) for Christ, it made me think about Karin's perspective. She was a high school biology teacher for 15-ish years before joining [our company] in her late 30s. She was wholely devoted to "the cause," and gave everything for it. However, she had NO problem enjoying life and doing the things that made her happy. She had the most beautiful and comfortable apartment. She and I had an ongoing joke about her dishes. Karin had bought boring dishes because they were cheap and practical and "proper" for a woman in her position. She felt some pressure from others to live "sacrificially," but struggled with the concept since she so wanted to surround herself with beauty. After buying the practical dishes, she soon fell in love with some beautiful and reasonably priced dishes, but she felt guilty buying them. What single woman needs TWO sets of dishes? So, one day Karin came to work all smiles, and whispered to me, "You have to come to dinner tonight. I have some dishes that need baptizing." We both giggled about it all day, and treated it like a secret, guilty pleasure--which it didn't need to be. That night we ate dinner off of the new plates and "oohed" and "aahed" over the perfect way they fit in her kitchen and her home. Karin delighted in beautiful things, and managed to balance sense and sensibility to perfection.

Karin left quite a few legacies in my life, but one of them is to live well, in whatever context is appropriate. Suffering will be a result of following Christ, but it is not proof of one's faith or righteousness. She was ultimately practical (sometimes annoyingly so), but her bottom-line mentality cut through so much of the existential angst that ties me--and you--in knots.

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Karin lived fully. She was always learning, always seeking, always pushing for an answer to satisfy her curiousity. She gave of herself relentlessly. She was larger than life. I imagine that she had few substantial regrets.

I miss my friend very, very much. We had a "date" this weekend to talk about what she thought of America--it was her first trip to the States. I'm so sorry that I can't be with our mutual community during these days. I'm also sorry, dear readers, if you didn't get to meet her. Once met, Karin could never be forgotten.

Nancy has also posted about Karin: read her words under the "Villabe" link to the left.