Kristina Evelyn Phillips

She Made Room at the Table
Kristina Phillips loved to laugh, loved people fiercely, and held fast to what was right. She could turn an ordinary evening into a small celebration with a joke, a plate of food, and a place at the table. She believed that honesty matters in the smallest form and in the hardest hour. If you lied, she would know. If you were hurting, she showed up.
Her humor was warm and disarming, full of little "Kristina-isms" that became family lore. She loved comedy. Stand-up, Saturday Night Live, and the silliest TikToks and reels kept us laughing right up to the day of surgery. Sometimes she mixed words or reached for a sound-alike and made us all grin. We teased, she laughed, and the house felt lighter. It was never about being wrong. It was about being wonderfully, unmistakably her.
Kristina made things with her hands and her heart. She taught herself to sew and turned fabric into handbags, curtains, and hemodialysis line holders that her clinic shared with other patients. Praise embarrassed her and made her glow at the same time. She learned macramé and filled walls and porches with texture and care. She could stretch a thin budget with clearance racks and fill-a-bag garage sales so the kids felt rich at Christmas.
She loved feeding people, not as a performance but as a way to make closeness easy. Food was how she broke the ice, softened sharp days, and said what words could not. If you came through our door, there would be more than enough. Seconds were an expectation. Leftovers were a plan.
She stood up for people. Some lines must be held and some wrongs named. Kristina could be gentle, and she could be immovable. She preferred peace, but she did not buy it with silence. When she stood up for what was right, she was fiery and left no doubt where she stood.
She loved plain dreams and worked hard to make them real. Where others saw a worn-out trailer, she saw a future home with room for family stories, laughter, and too much food. She showed up, scrubbed, repaired, and kept going until warmth lived there.
Marriage with Kristina was honest work and deep kindness. At night she loved having her hair brushed. It quieted her mind and reminded both of us that love is built out of small, faithful acts. She teased me for my hyperfocus when I missed a fresh haircut or even a new carpet under my feet. We turned that ache into a lesson. Notice the person you love. Say what is beautiful out loud. Say it again tomorrow.
Her faith was simple and wide. She believed in the teachings of Jesus and disliked performative religion. She could forgive without pretending and set boundaries that protected the vulnerable. Her mother, Katherine Eaton, tended her spiritual life with steady prayer and quiet constancy. Katherine showed her that faith could be both sturdy and gentle, that devotion didn't need to be loud to be real. Her father, William Furnace, shared her ability to see potential where others saw nothing. He could look at an empty field and envision pipe corrals, barb wire fencing, stables, and barns. That visionary streak ran deep in Kristina too. Across the years, her fathers, brothers, and sister often showed up when times were tough, and that practical love helped shape the way Kristina showed up for others. To church friends and to anyone wary of church, her invitation would be the same: Come anyway. Eat with us. Laugh with us. You do not have to be religious to belong.
She was Nana with her whole heart. She gave Sophia, her two-year-old granddaughter, her first bath, keeping a family tradition alive. After she died, Sophia saw a video of Kristina's voice and lit up, calling out "Nana" with pure recognition and love. In that tender moment, we understood what we already knew. Love does not end. It changes shape and keeps working.
Kristina fought hard through years of illness. She quit smoking to try for a transplant. She faced procedures she feared with grit and a joke at the ready. Even then, she thought of everyone else first. She worried about being a burden and had to be encouraged to go to her appointments. When she shopped, she was thinking about what each person would need and want, what would bring them comfort. When people talked, she listened with her whole attention, scanning for needs she could meet. At home, her dialysis chair was her spot. Pine Sol and clean laundry were the scents of a good day. She loved soap and suds and the small satisfaction of things set right.
If you want to honor her, feed someone. Defend someone who is being mistreated. Tell the truth when no one is checking. Bring the green bean casserole and play Dirty Santa at Christmas. Post a memory on her Facebook memorial when she comes to mind so she will not be forgotten. Keep a small place for her in your home and your holidays. On long drives, turn on a country station, and when Rodney Atkins sings about back roads, let it pull you closer to her.
To Melody, to Christopher, to Sophia, and to Kristina herself if she can hear it now: The ache you feel is the shape of your love. Scars are not failures. They are proof that your heart has done holy work. Wear them without shame. Let the pain soften with time and do not call that betrayal. Call it love being faithful in another form. Kristina, you did not hurt us by being loved. You marked us for good, and we are grateful. If more must be said, let it be this. Our sorrow tells the truth about our joy, and we will carry both.
Our family is deeply thankful for the people who cared for Kristina with such skill and kindness, especially her kidney care team and her primary-care PA, Jeannie. At dialysis, Lora could make her chuckle on the hardest mornings, and Sara never stopped making sure she had what she needed and got the most from her treatments. They balanced high standards with grace, meeting her where she was and helping her keep going. You treated her as a whole person. We will not forget that.
Service A viewing for Kristina will be held at 1:00 PM on Tuesday, November 11, at John M. Ireland & Son Funeral Home and Chapel, 120 S. Broadway Ave., Moore, OK 73160. Tel: (405) 799-1200. Email: haley@jmifh.com.
In lieu of attendance If you cannot come, consider sending flowers. She loved them. Or honor her by supporting an anti-hunger organization in your community. Feed people in her name. To send flowers to the family or plant a tree in memory of Kristina, please visit our floral store.