Celebration of Life
Verna Lee Carr
Sunday, February 1, 2026
 
Good afternoon, church.

Today we gather in a place that mattered deeply to Verna Lee Carr. This sanctuary is familiar ground—ground shaped by prayer, song, scripture, and shared life. And it is fitting that we remember her here, surrounded by the people and the community that became her spiritual home.

As we gather, we bring many things with us: gratitude, love, laughter, tears, and the ache that comes when someone we love is no longer physically present. In moments like this, the church does what it has always done—we tell the story, we remember together, and we trust that the God who has been faithful in life remains faithful still.

What we knew to be true about Verna Lee—daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, cousin, aunt, friend and beloved—is also what this community came to know. She was known not just by name, but by presence. Not just by membership, but by the way she showed up among us.

Celebrations of life invite us to pause and ask a simple but important question:

What does a faithful life look like?

Verna Lee’s life offers us an answer.

She was a woman shaped by deep devotion. Her faith was not something she spoke about often – it was something she practiced. Rooted in prayer, grounded in tradition, and sustained by a trust in God’s steady presence, her faith carried her through joy and sorrow alike. Even as her faith journey led her to Central Christian Church in 2020, the practices that had shaped her life continued. Her devotion crossed denominational lines because it was rooted in relationship—with God and with people.

In the Disciples of Christ tradition, we affirm that faith is lived, not owned. Verna Lee lived her faith in quiet, consistent ways. She trusted that God’s care was wide enough to hold her whole life, and she lived as someone who knew she belonged.

Verna lee lived out that belonging right here, among us.
Verna Lee was not a spectator in the life of this church – she was a participant.

She rang bells as an invitation to all to gather into worship.

She showed up for social and fellowship gatherings understanding that sharing food, laughter and conversation is part of how a community is formed. She even brought her own salt shaker!!

And if you really wanted to win her over – you would bring a bag of Lay’s Potato Chips to a luncheon!

She danced in the community room during our annual Trunk or Treat to the Monster Mash. And would often make a request for a special song or two!

She participated in our outreach opportunities from matching medicine bottles, to stuffing backpacks to making meal bags for those in need – always serving with a smile and lots of conversation and laughter.

Perhaps not grand but oh so faithful! Each and every act telling the story that the church is not just a place we attend but a place we build and a place we belong!

That sense of belonging showed itself in how she treated others.

One of Verna Lee’s greatest gifts was her ability to listen. Truly listen. She had a way of making space for people—space for their stories, their pain, their questions. In a world that moves quickly and speaks loudly, Verna Lee offered presence. She reminded us that listening itself can be an act of love.

Her kindness was much the same. It did not seek recognition. It did not announce itself. It showed up quietly—in gestures, in concern, in care offered when no one else was watching. Over and over again, stories have been shared of the ways Verna Lee extended kindness without expectation, trusting that love offered freely is never wasted. I know this to be true not only from the stories many of you have shared with me but also the number of people who called the church to share their stories about Verna Lee and the many ways that she impacted them and their families.

And then there is the legacy for which many beyond this congregation know her so well.

There was a season in Verna Lee’s life marked by deep grief. A season that could have narrowed her world. Instead, it expanded
it. Out of loss, she found purpose. Out of pain, she found calling. She committed herself to seeking justice for those who no longer had a voice, not out of anger, but out of compassion.

Her advocacy was grounded in love. Her work was sustained by faith. And her courage continues to ripple outward—touching lives, shaping policies, and reminding us that faithful living often calls us to stand where it is hard and to speak when it is costly. Her advocacy work through People Against Violent Crimes and Tree of Angels rippled deep and wide both here in Austin and all across the State of Texas.

That, too, is part of what it means to be the church.

Today, as we remember Verna Lee, we also recognize how her life has shaped this community. She taught us that devotion can be steady and quiet. That justice can be pursued with compassion. That listening is holy work. That kindness, practiced consistently, leaves a lasting mark.

And we trust that the God who accompanied her through every season of life has now welcomed her into rest. The God who made room for her gifts, her questions, and her courage has made room for her peace. Love has carried her home.

As a church, we are also invited to listen—to her life, to her witness, to the legacy she leaves behind. We are invited to ask ourselves:

How will we live what she taught us?
How will we practice faith with the same quiet courage?
How will we love with the same generosity?

May Verna Lee’s memory continue to bless each of us.
May her courage strengthen us.
May her kindness shape us.
And may the peace of God, which she now knows fully, remain with us as we continue the work of love she lived so well.

Amen.