Kristin Hill Taylor

Seeking God as the Author of Every Story

We still gather together.

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Some friends and I laughed about the already apparent shortage of Clorox wipes on Friday, March 13, 2020. We were gathered together to eat Megan’s delicious grilled cheese sandwiches and play Nertz. We knew by that evening that school was shutting down one week at a time to let COVID-19 run its course. 

That was our family’s last gathering with people for 11 weeks. Of course, we saw some of our people in porch or parking lot meetings when we turned in schoolwork, picked up library books, picked up groceries, and delivered things to each other. We missed our usual Easter gathering, the fun events that conclude a school year, and three birthday celebrations in our immediate family. I talked on the phone to my best friend while we walked on our separate streets. 

We widened our circle on Memorial Day weekend with my extended family and then my best friend and her family. That summer we gradually widened it more. My kids started back to school in August and went almost all of the 2020-21 year – minus the weeks in February we had to shut down, just as our teachers and staff were getting their first COVID vaccines, because we had too many Upper School students testing positive. Mostly the virus made its way through the basketball teams. The summer of 2021 felt more normal, and gradually we’ve weathered variant strands and roller coaster local case numbers. 

But life just hasn’t been the same since March 13, 2020. 

We got vaccinated as we could in 2021 – me first with the school staff in February and then March, Greg shortly after mine in March thanks to an extra dose where a friend works, Cate in August because that was six months after she had COVID with her teammates, Ben and Rachel in November when the pediatric dose was available. I got my booster dose in November; Greg in December. Cate is getting hers soon. Of course, the medical aspects continued into 2022 when Rachel tested positive for a very mild case of COVID in January. 

I could tell you all sorts of things I learned about my people, our family, the beauty of downtime, adjusting perspectives … and on and on. The pandemic ended up prompting us to look at our church life … and change churches. My capacity for a crowded calendar changed, but now I’m having to adjust again. Disappointment comes a little easier for certain people in my household because activities and events are rescheduled quicker than they would have been before. During the past two years, there has been so much information and so many lessons in my mind and heart. 

But here’s the biggest thing I’ve learned: Gathering with your people matters. 

Of course, I already believed this. I wrote a whole book about it. But here we are two years removed from when our worlds shut down. People reopened their lives when they were ready, but I wish we’d never shut ours down, at least not in the ways we did for those 11 weeks. 

I was scared of what people were telling us, especially about how we could be carrying the virus and not know it and infect elderly loved ones. Of course, I’d never want to do that to anyone. Of course, I’m willing to take precautions for the sake of others. Of course, hindsight to 2020 really is 20/20. 

But here we are. Two years later. 

I know I’ve changed. I know my kids have changed. I know my family has changed as individuals and as a collective group of five. Relationships have changed – some certainly for the better. We attend a church that is exactly where we need to be. We know better now who are people truly are. We know those things because social distancing deepened our desire to gather as a family, as friends, in a church, and at school events. 

Right now, gathering together looks different than before March 13, 2020. Some of that is pandemic-induced, but some of it is just our season of life. 

We have two kids who play basketball. One of those and another kid play soccer, which is basically when it’s not basketball season. But gathering in the stands to cheer on our kids or with other little kids and moms while we wait for the big kids to finish practice matters too. We’ve become Wednesday night church people because we get to gather with a crew of people who make us laugh and point us to Jesus. We have developed new relationships when we gather in Sunday school class or when we chat in the pick-up line after school.

We gather as we go. We gather as we live out our lives. We gather together because we want to. And I’d have it no other way – especially when I think back to those 11 weeks in 2020. 

Now bring on more Nertz games and grilled cheese sandwiches. 

*****

Ironically, I did self-publish a book called “Bringing Home More Than Groceries: Stories of Gathering & Nourishing People” in September 2020. Yeah, I don’t know who releases a book about gathering when much of the world is still social distancing. But I did. I don’t regret it, but I do feel led to share about it now that we are far beyond March 13, 2020. So much has changed, and so much has stayed the same. 

On my website, you can learn more about my book, find some fun free resources including a printable about how hospitality looks in each season and a playlist, and read endorsements. Of course, you can buy the book at Amazon too. 

The Power of Soup It Forward

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Circumstances have been like twisty roads around here lately. Twisty roads have blind curves and surprises and aren’t always efficient. Yep, that’s how I feel like my life has been lately. 

In a phone call earlier this week that connected me to my life-long friend Katie, I listed sickness and schedules and some of the surprises. I told her it all felt like a lot. She told me life felt that way because it was a lot. I wasn’t whining or complaining, just naming the truth of this season. It’ll pass. Twisty roads will become straight, winter will become spring, and the calendar will offer more white space – eventually.

I also told Katie a story because it’s one of those sweet surprises that deserves to be documented. I told her I wanted to write it down, so that’s what I’m doing. 

Toward the end of February, I confided in some friends about my actual life. My friend Lauren responded by saying she wanted to make dinner for my family. I texted her back: “I will accept any food! Thank you!” I was truly so appreciative she offered. 

And then I forgot. 

I remembered a week later, as soon as she walked toward in the church parking last Thursday morning holding a Crock Pot of soup. I was surprised and appreciative all over again. 

See, Lauren knew my life felt like a lot. She knew there had been sickness, my mother-in-law with some minor health problems living with us while she awaits clearance to drive again, and mental exhaustion from parenting three kids in three different seasons with three different personalities. She knows the twists and turns in life can be a lot to handle.

Lauren couldn’t really straighten out my circumstances, but she could feed me and give me one less thing to think about. And what perfect timing it was! I made an impromptu trip to the walk-in medical clinic that evening because my youngest girl who had recently finished a round of amoxicillin still had achy ears. 

While driving home that evening I heard on the radio Thursday, March 3 was National Soup It Forward Day! Y’all, I couldn’t make that up, and I couldn’t text Lauren quick enough. Neither of us had any idea, but God knew that day I needed to be fed by a friend. I am so thankful Lauren unknowingly participated in National Soup It Forward Day, offering a welcomed pitstop on the twisty road of life. The creamy Mexican chicken soup was delicious and it filled my stomach, nourished my soul, and served my family. 

*****

This is a new story from my actual life, but it’s the kind of story that’s in my book, “Bringing Home More Than Groceries: Stories of Gathering & Nourishing People.” Learn more here or buy it on Amazon. 

Reflections on living & dying

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I knew I wanted to gather some old friends to celebrate my 40th birthday. Four dear friends (and three of their husbands and kids) joined my family at my lake house for the first weekend of May. They brought gifts, memories, and all the food we needed to feed our party of 23 people.

Jaclyn, Sarah, Katie, and Bekah hadn’t all met before, but I have histories with them that span decades, literally. Some of our stories have overlapped, but I knew this was the right group of people to gather together.

Starting in 1990, Katie was my next-door-neighbor-turned-best-friend for all of middle and high school and we remain friends across the state who wish we were neighbors. Bekah and I also were friends in middle and high school. We swam together, she introduced me to country music, and we continue to gather at Christmastime and other times we have extra time when we’re visiting my mom in Louisville. (Fun side note: I encouraged her and her now-husband to date, so they blame me and thank me in the same breath. I’ve actually known her husband Barrett longer than anyone who was at my lake house that weekend!)

Jaclyn and I met in college and had intersecting friends starting in the fall of 1998. We actually got closer after college, got married the same summer, walked through infertility and all the early days of motherhood literally together, and now miss each other if we go too many days without hanging out. Our husbands and kids are tight too. Sarah walked into our church in May 2009, pregnant with Davey who would become my Ben’s first friend, and we’ve basically been friends since. She’s since moved four hours away, but we have an ongoing, never-ending text conversation that brings me so much joy.

Jaclyn and Katie put together a book of blessings and memories from all kinds of people in my life. Jaclyn gave me other goodies and helped organize the whole weekend. Sarah gave me a felt letter board with a sweet message already displayed. (The quote is a reference from a book about friendship by Melanie Shankle that Jaclyn, Sarah, and I like to quote to each other.) Katie made me a T-shaped shelf that’s already hanging on my wall. Bekah bought my dinner when us girls went out for Mexican food one of the night’s together.

Our boys fished and caught enough bluegill and catfish to feed us lunch on Sunday. The older girls made friendship bracelets, had a sleepover in the basement one night, and helped us keep track of the little girls. We went on some boat rides, laughed at memories, told back stories, and ate well.

My soul was so filled with these
new memories with old friends.

The celebrating continued on Monday when some of my friends I know from my kids’ school gathered for breakfast together. It was such a sweet way to begin the new week celebrating some more. Forty certainly had me reflective and craving all the quality time with people I love.

I wanted to celebrate with my people, but God knew I would need to be filled to the brim with love and support as the week continued. God saw beyond my 40th birthday.

My dad went into cardiac arrest the evening of May 7 – four days after I turned 40, one day after Cate turned 12, and five days before Mother’s Day. He passed away about 35 hours later, on Thursday, May 9. (Here’s his obituary.)

He had been without oxygen three different times – for an undetermined amount of time when he went into cardiac arrest, on the way to the hospital in the ambulance, and again in the emergency room. His body never recovered and I watched him stop breathing while hooked to a ventilator and lots of medicines in an Indianapolis hospital.

I haven’t written much about my dad here because our relationship was complicated. For years, I’ve grieved not having the kind of relationship I wish we had. My dad and how I’ve long longed for his approval and attention were the subjects of conversations in counseling. I’d forgiven him and tried to share my life with him, even from a distance.

Regardless of the complications, he was my dad. Right after I was filled from my birthday, I found myself unexpectedly grieving. As Dad was unresponsive in the hospital bed, I learned things about his life in Indianapolis I didn’t know. Even my grief has been complicated and in the days since his death, I’ve found myself beneath a cloud of emotions.

With three kids, the end of the school year, and my everyday life here, I have been able to step out from beneath the cloud, but then when I’m not distracted anymore, it’s still there. Grief is tricky. And I’m so grateful I was filled to the brim with love and support before I had to begin to navigate my dad’s death.

I have questions I wish I could ask him. I want to hold onto hope for a little longer. I remember him as an innovative educator who created an environment at an elementary school for most of my childhood and then a middle school just a little farther down the road that teachers, parents, and students loved. He excelled in his profession.

Three of the friends who gathered at my lake house knew my dad. We had actually talked about some childhood memories involving him just days before he died. Looking back even a couple of weeks, God was preparing me. I didn’t realize it then, obviously, but, for as unexpected as the timing was, I also found comfort in his death being sandwiched between so much life.