Photo credit: X@gracklebirder1
Last month a Phillies fan retrieved a home run ball and handed it to his young son, only to be immediately confronted by another Phillies fan, who demanded the ball, which had landed nearer her. The shocked dad took the ball from his kid and gave it to the woman, who marched back to her seat.
The incident was captured on video and of course, went viral. Social media immediately nicknamed her “Phillies Karen.”
In case you’re not familiar with “Karen” as a pejorative slang term, Wikipedia explains it is “typically used to refer to a middle class woman who is perceived as entitled or excessively demanding.”
Many women with the now-maligned name of Karen have started using the tagline “Not that Karen”–as evidenced by one of my fellow New York Times Spelling Bee game players.
Through the years I’ve had many women actually named Karen move in and out of my life. In fact at one point in the ’80s there were so many Karens in our church that they started a “Karen Choir” of six lovely voices.
I truly treasure all those Karen-memories, but three Karens have especially blessed my life.
All are younger than I am–spring chickens, only in their 60s–and my dear friends for four decades. They epitomize poet William Ward’s description:
“A friend is one who joyfully sings with you when you are on the mountaintop
and silently walks beside you through the valley.”
Friend. It’s a word not easily described, so we tend to stick adjectives in front of it: close friend, best friend, childhood friend, lifelong friend. Friends are special because–unlike our relatives–we get to pick them!
L. to R., Karen W., Karen M., Karen Y.
I’m so happy I picked Karen M. for a friend. Her wry humor still cracks me up and I’m inspired by her care for her husband, who had a massive stroke last year, paralyzing his left side. I especially appreciate her raw honesty as she struggles against the fear, anxiety and overwhelming daily tasks: “I’m clawing my way back–one prayer, one verse at a time.”
I’m so grateful I picked Karen W. as a friend. Together we’ve nursed our babies, served our Lord and ministered to cancer patients and grievers. Her incredible compassion for family, friends and the lost energizes me to press on and not give up. And I’ll never forget that she “celebrated” her 30th birthday visiting me in the hospital after my cancer surgery.
And I’m so thankful I picked Karen Y. to be my friend. For 14 years we’ve celebrated a “Pamper Lynn & Karen Day” (sometimes multiple times!) Her wise insights feed my mind and her peaceful presence soothes my soul, as she reminds me to “Keep swimming, little eagle!” ( https://lynneib.com/2025/09/09/10892/ )
My weary friend, you need a Karen, too.
Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble. Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
And if you don’t feel like you have that kind of friend, ask God to bring someone into your life as He did for the Apostle Paul:
When we arrived at Macedonia, there was no rest for us. We faced conflict from every direction, with battles on the outside and fear on the inside. But God, who encourages those who are discouraged, encouraged us by the arrival of Titus. 2 Corinthians 7:5-6
Ask God to send a “Titus” (or a Not-that-Karen) to bring you healing hope.
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Open in your browser to hear the contemporary Christian group Selah sing “You Raise Me Up” ©Universal Music Publications and Peermusic III Ltd . This is what true friends do for weary souls.
Last month when Carolyn Dunn, my dear friend of 40+ years had a biopsy to diagnosis the “spots” on her liver and pancreas, we prayed it would be “just” lymphoma.
The couple, married 62 years, had been spending the summer at their remote, lakeside Maine cabin, affectionately named Dunn Inn. Their family took turns visiting and enjoying swimming, fishing, boating, lobster-eating and celebrating Carolyn’s 81st birthday.
Back at home I parked my usually very helpful husband into a La-Z-Boy recliner and began caring for him while I finished all the packing for our week-long trip to a lakeside cabin coincidentally named “Eagles’ Landing.” Unfortunately, all that extra walking, leaning and carrying exacerbated my two medical issues: a plantar plate tear on the bottom of my foot, and the post-herpetic neuralgia in my back (think burning shingles pain which doesn’t go away).
until he lost his health and discovered all he had been missing.
Terry’s girlfriend Deb knew of me from our church, so we met and prayed together in the foyer one Sunday. Shortly after that, Terry had an 8.5-hour Whipple procedure, which removed the head of the pancreas, duodenum, gallbladder and part of the bile duct. (Only about 20-percent of pancreatic cancer patients are candidates for this surgery.)
I’m a newspaper reporter-turned-author. And I’m a passionate encourager, but always a truth-teller. I worked for nearly two decades in a unique position as a patient advocate in my oncologist’s office and the Cancer Prayer Support Group I founded in 1991 is the country’s oldest such faith-based group.