Crystal "Kris” Louise Daugherty Christo

A longtime resident of Little Flock, Arkansas, Kris leaves behind a life that was anything but ordinary—a life filled with family, adventure, animals, laughter, hard work, creativity, and an unmistakable zest for living.

Born September 9, 1951, in Wichita, Kansas, Kris was born with a spirit that could never quite be contained by ordinary expectations. She was raised in Wichita and attended Wichita public schools until the age of 17. She married young and moved to Missouri, where she began raising her family and building a life that would eventually take her down many unexpected roads.

Kris was a pioneer woman in every sense of the word. In 1975, after earning her GED and attending MSSC in Joplin, she became the first female paramedic in the state of Missouri—a remarkable accomplishment at a time when women were still breaking through many doors that had long been closed to them. In the mid-1980s, she took yet another unconventional path and drove over-the-road trucks, seeing much of the country from behind the wheel.

But perhaps Kris’s greatest adventures weren’t found on highways or in classrooms. They were found at home, in the garden, on the farm, around a crowded table, and surrounded by the people and animals she loved.

Kris loved animals with her whole heart. Throughout her life, she rescued, fostered, and adopted countless cats and dogs, volunteering for Stray Central and Spay Arkansas for many years. Her homes often seemed to operate somewhere between a farm, an animal sanctuary, and a place where absolutely anything might show up next. Over the years there were dogs and cats, a pet raccoon, a chicken named Gertrude, a turkey rescued from the side of the road after falling off a truck, a pig who apparently believed himself to be a bucking bronco, and a billy goat who was convinced he owned the place.

That goat even had a habit of knocking on the door when he wanted crackers.

And somehow, Kris always let him in.

In her later years, Kris found tremendous joy living and “working” on the farm. She adored her goats and became especially attached to the bottle babies, at one point raising them in a pack-and-play right in her living room. It was simply Kris’s way: if something needed loving, she made room for it.

She was equally at home in the kitchen, the garden, or behind a sewing machine. Kris could garden and can her own vegetables, make strawberry preserves and homemade bread, milk cows and churn homemade butter, and kill and clean a chicken herself. She was an extraordinary seamstress who made several pageant gowns—including her own wedding gown—and had a gift for creating beautiful things with her own hands.

And then there was her cooking.

Kris’s ham, cheese, and potato soup was legendary. Her pumpkin pie was so beloved that family members simply refused to eat anyone else’s because, according to them, it just wasn’t the same. At Thanksgiving, her cranberry fluff could become a competitive event, with people practically fighting over the last serving. At Christmas, she made homemade goody platters for friends and family, and no one could make old-fashioned fudge or divinity quite like Mimi.

Kris loved making a house feel like home, especially during the holidays. She decorated “to the gills,” hosted holiday Happy Hours at the cottage, and delighted in gathering people together. She didn’t need much of an excuse for a get-together, and she certainly didn’t have to be asked twice to attend one. Her porch was a favorite place to sit with family and friends, visit, laugh, and simply enjoy being together.

She loved dressing up, too—fun hats, jewelry, wild prints, vintage clothes, and anything that made an ordinary day a little more interesting. Halloween costumes weren’t just for children in Kris’s world. She loved joining group costumes, and she even dressed as the Grinch for local Christmas parades.

Her sense of humor was as memorable as anything else about her.

One of the stories her family will likely tell for generations happened in an Aldi in Springdale. When Elton John’s “Bennie and the Jets” came over the speakers, Kris did what Kris did best: she sang along at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite have all the lyrics right. Her very enthusiastic rendition included the unforgettable line, “She’s got electric BOOBS…”

Those shopping around her were apparently divided into two groups: the people laughing so hard they were crying, and the people who were so mortified they couldn’t get away fast enough.

That was Kris.

She loved music, even if she didn’t always know every word. She loved reading, crafts, sewing, baking, gardening, houseplants, camping, hiking, picnicking, festivals, craft fairs, and simply being outdoors. She and her family spent many happy days at Roaring River State Park in Cassville, Missouri. In her early twenties, she and her husband served as Explorer Post leaders for the Boy Scouts.

And eventually, Kris became a world traveler.

She loved cruising and seeing new places, visiting Isla Mujeres, the Bahamas, Jamaica, Cozumel, St. Maarten, St. Thomas, Nassau, Grand Cayman, Montego Bay, Princess Cays, CocoCay, Alaska, Vancouver, British Columbia, and countless other destinations. Having already seen nearly every state in the country from the driver’s seat of an over-the-road truck, she continued her adventures later in life by seeing the world from the deck of a cruise ship.

But for all the places Kris went, the people she loved remained at the center of her world.

She was a mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister, aunt, and friend. She was the kind of woman whose presence could fill a room, whose home could somehow accommodate one more person, one more animal, one more plate at the table, and one more story.

Kris is survived by her three daughters, Melissa Henderson; Sarah Mills and her husband, Greg; and Amanda Jackson and her husband, Justin; her niece, Andi; ten grandchildren, Charity Murphy and her husband, Ryan; Derek Hamilton and his wife, Paige; Storm Henderson; Autum Henderson; Raven Henderson; Madison Jackson; Ryan Jackson; Kinsley Jackson; Natalie Jackson; and Abby Mills; and her great-granddaughter, Charlie Hamilton.

She was preceded in death by her father, Ike Daugherty; her mother, Nola Smith; her brother, Wes Daugherty; and her son, Ben Henderson.

Kris loved life—not the polished, picture-perfect version of it, but the messy, funny, adventurous, wonderfully unpredictable version. She loved her family fiercely. She loved animals that needed saving. She loved a full house, a good meal, a decorated holiday home, a road trip, a cruise, a farm, a porch, a funny outfit, a good story, and an excuse to bring people together.

She was not made to live a quiet or ordinary life.

She was a woman who could become the first female paramedic in Missouri, drive a truck across the country, milk a cow, sew a wedding gown, rescue a turkey, raise a baby goat in her living room, make a pumpkin pie nobody could replicate, dress up like the Grinch, and belt out the wrong lyrics in the middle of Aldi—and somehow make all of it seem perfectly natural.

There truly was no one else quite like Kris.

Her family hopes she will be remembered not simply for the things she accomplished, but for the way she lived: wholeheartedly, creatively, generously, and without being afraid to be herself.

She taught the people around her that life is meant to be lived. To take the trip. Rescue the animal. Make the pie. Plant the garden. Wear the ridiculous hat. Throw the party. Sit on the porch. Laugh until you cry.

And above all, love your people while you have them.

For those wishing to honor Kris’s memory at her service, her family invites you to come as she would have wanted: wearing cats, tie-dye, something funky, or anything that makes you smile.

Because that, too, would have been very Kris.