Preached on Friday, February 20, 2026 at Roselawn Cemetery, Little Rock in memoriam Verona Belle Spatz (January 17, 1934 – February 15, 2026).

The LORD shall watch over your going out and your coming in, from this time forth for evermore. (Psalm 121:8)

This is one of the quiet promises of Scripture. It is not loud or dramatic, but it is steady and sure. “The LORD shall watch over your going out and your coming in.”

It is a verse about the ordinary movement of a human life. It speaks of leaving and returning, of departures and homecomings, of the many small journeys that together become the shape of a life.

When we look at the long life of Belle Spatz, we can see how much of it was marked by that rhythm of going out and coming in. Her life began in the thick of local life at her parents’ bakery busy with the daily work of feeding a community. From there, her life unfolded in widening circles. Her schooling took her to Chapel Hill, and to Pittsburgh, and to New England. Her professional work carried her all the way to Okinawa. Her travels led her across the globe more than once.

Some people move through the world reluctantly, but others move through it with curiosity. Belle belonged firmly in the second camp. She paid attention to the world around her. She noticed things that others might have missed. She received each new place with a steady and genuine interest.

The small details that people remember about her tell the story. She delighted in finding the gelato shop as soon as she touched ground in Italy. She loved traveling with younger folks, watching them discover the world for themselves, too. Here’s a friend’s favorite story, a quirky and telling one:

Belle and a friend were headed to Africa. Belle was encouraged to take binoculars to see the wildlife from a distance. She had never used binoculars and another friend loaned her a pair and taught her the correct way to use them. She practiced enthusiastically at home. When Belle returned from her trip, she told her friend that it was the binoculars that made the trip. She returned the binoculars to her friend, and apparently, copious amounts of sunscreen had totally ruined the leather––a sign of heavy use by an adventurous American southerner having a big time in Africa.

These are not grand or dramatic moments. They are something better. They are signs of a person who remained open to wonder.

However, at the end of the day, Psalm 121 is not about human curiosity. The Psalm is about divine faithfulness. “The LORD shall watch over your going out and your coming in.” This promise does not apply only to certain chapters of life. It applies to all of them.

That promise holds through the confident years and the uncertain ones. It holds through the seasons of strength and the seasons of fragility. It holds in the familiar places and in the far-flung ones. It holds on the busy days and on quiet ones.

That promise matters especially on a day like today. Death can feel to us like a crossing we cannot clearly see. It can feel like a departure without a return. It can feel, if we are honest, like the edge of the map.

But the psalmist speaks precisely there. “The LORD watches over your going out and your coming in from this time forth for evermore.” The Christian faith proclaims that, in Jesus Christ, God has entered even death itself and has come out the other side. The road that now lies before Belle is not unknown territory. It is ground that Christ Himself has already walked.

Therefore, even in our grief, we are not left with only memory. We are left with a promise: the One Who watched over Belle throughout her life watches over her still; the One Who was faithful to her in life remains faithful beyond death; the One Who raised Jesus from the dead has promised that death will not have the final word—not for Belle, not for you, and not for me. 

So today, we give thanks for Belle; for the long road she walked; for the many places and people her life touched; for the ways she moved through the world God made for curious people just like her. And today, we do what Christians have always done at the end of the journey: we place her, with trust and with hope, into the hands of the One Who has been watching over her all along.

Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world;

In the Name of God the Father Almighty who created you;

In the Name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you;

In the Name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you.

May your rest be this day in peace,

and your dwelling place in the Paradise of God. [1]

Amen.

[1] 1979 Book of Common Prayer, page 464.