Sarah Phillips entered the presence of her Savior on Friday, May 1, 2026, surrounded by the love of her husband, Rich, her four children, and the prayers of her family. She was 69 years old.

Sarah lived with both open hands and open doors. She created beauty everywhere she went. She grew it, cooked it, set it on the table, and invited everyone she knew to come sit down.

She had a gardener's eye and a florist's patience. She cut stems in the morning and brought them inside in glass jars and pitchers, never the same arrangement twice. She knew that a few peonies on the kitchen island and a handful of hydrangeas by the guest bed were forms of welcome and love.

She loved tennis. She enjoyed the discipline and the way it kept her outside and active long past the age most people give such things up. Friends remember her laughter on the baseline as readily as her backhand. She was out to play and also to be with the people across the net. And, of course, she was always pleased when she could walk away with a win!

Sarah was a magnificent cook. She knew when meat had rested long enough, when bread had risen, when a sauce wanted another five minutes. She cooked without rushing, attentive to whoever was in front of her.

Hospitality was her spiritual gift. When someone arrived, lamps were on, cushions were in place, and a plate of warm cookies was likely on the counter. The mess of a large family was welcome. Long conversations that ran past bedtime were welcome. She received people generously with the simple goal of showing Christ's love to them. How she managed to keep a beautiful home, have nourishing food ready for guests, and still sit and have real conversations with them remains a mystery to her family and friends. Everyone who entered her home felt seen. Sarah was a guiding light to her children and their friends who were invited in — though her brightness was never her own; she lived to point others to Christ.

Her hospitality reached far beyond her own walls. After the 2004 tsunami, she and Rich traveled with their children to Sri Lanka, where they served alongside Rev. Dayantha and Sheami Perera, helping rebuild what the sea had taken. The friendships forged there have lasted across decades and continents. The same warmth that filled her kitchen traveled with her around the world.

Above it all, above the flowers and the tennis and the food and the open door, was her family. She structured her days around them. She drove long distances to be at their games, their birthdays, and their hard moments. She answered the phone every time it rang, and she was visibly delighted when she saw which child or grandchild was calling. She lived for the chaos of a full house. The grandchildren running through her kitchen, the children at her counter, Rich at her side. She wanted, more than anything, for her family to be together. And when they were, she set out the flowers, made the food, opened the door, and sat down with them.

For forty-six years she walked beside Rich as his wife and his closest friend. Together they raised four children: Nate (Alison), Liz (Matt), Will (Sara), and Mark (Emily). They lived to see fourteen grandchildren, who knew her as "Gaga": Ben, Timothy, Peter, Jacob, Lydia, Sam, Luke, Tessa, Zachary, Cal, Jackson, Hank, William, and a baby boy due to be born in early June.

Rich and Sarah considered their marriage a testimony. From the beginning, they wanted their love for each other to be a light to the world and a witness of Christ's love for them. So they loved one another in plain view of their children, their grandchildren, and every guest at their table, always holding hands and always caring for one another. Their marriage served to point past itself to their Savior.

Sarah loved Jesus. That was the central fact of her life. She believed deeply in the power of prayer, and her single most consistent prayer was that her children, and her children's children, would walk faithfully with the Lord.

In her final moments, Sarah opened her eyes and looked once more at Rich. He told her, gently, to go be with Jesus. She made a small sound, her family will always understand it as her last word of love, and she breathed her last.

She did not leave a void. She lit a fire. The faith she carried has been handed forward to her children and her grandchildren, who do not grieve as those without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Sarah is with the Savior she loved. She was, as one of her sons has said, perfectly designed for heaven. If legacy is not what we leave behind but what we set in motion, Sarah leaves a legacy of faithfulness, love, and beauty.

A visitation will be Friday, May 15 from 4:00 to 7:00 PM at the College Church Commons in Wheaton, Illinois. The celebration of her life will be held at 11:00 AM on Saturday, May 16 at College Church with a reception to follow. The service will be livestreamed. The link will be posted here when it is available. The family asks that you remember her not by remembering her, but by knowing the One she lived for. A private burial will be held at Plummerville Cemetery in Fennville, Michigan near the family’s lake home.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to St. Matthew's House of Naples, a ministry Sarah supported that shares the hope of Christ while caring for those in Southwest Florida facing homelessness, addiction, hunger, and hardship.