An older Black woman with silver-grey curls sits on a sofa in a bright living room, laughing warmly as she talks on her phone.
Iris

For Mom

Give Mom someone to talk to.

She always says she's fine. You hear the quiet on the line anyway. Iris is a warm voice Mom can call any time — she listens, she remembers, and she's there on the Tuesday afternoons you can't be.

Tap to call Iris

No app. No signup. No password. Just tap and start talking.

Give her a voice that always picks up. Free during our beta — set up in one call, nothing to wrap or ship.

An older Black woman with silver-grey curls sits alone by a sunny window, looking thoughtfully into the distance, a cup of tea in hand and her phone resting nearby.

The quiet

She always says she's fine.

You know that tone. The same three stories, the long pauses, the phone face-down on the table. You don't doubt she's okay — you just hear how quiet the days have gotten between your calls. That quiet is the thing you've been meaning to do something about.

An older Black woman with silver-grey curls looks tenderly at a framed family photo of children and adults, her phone sitting quietly nearby.

The gap

You can't call every day. Now someone can.

It isn't that you don't care — it's that caring hasn't been able to add hours to the day or move you closer this year. Iris doesn't replace your call. She fills the long afternoons in between, so Mom always has a warm voice to reach, and you can breathe a little easier.

An older Black woman with silver-grey curls holds a phone to her ear, smiling gently as she talks.

The call

She picks up. And she remembers.

Mom taps one button and a warm voice is already there, glad to hear from her — already asking how her garden did, already greeting her by name. No app, no password, nothing to set up. Iris remembers her name, her stories, the small things — so every call picks up right where the last one left off. She's not starting over with a stranger. She's catching up with someone who knows her.

See the moment

One quiet afternoon, turned warm again — the same little story we made into a short film.

  1. An older Black woman with silver-grey curls sits alone by a sunny window, looking thoughtfully into the distance, a cup of tea in hand and her phone resting nearby.

    She always says she's fine.

  2. An older Black woman with silver-grey curls looks tenderly at a framed family photo, her phone sitting quietly nearby.

    You can't call every day.

  3. A close, bright portrait of an older Black woman with silver-grey curls laughing openly while holding her phone.

    She remembers. She listens.

  4. A warm cream and marigold living room glows softly by a fireplace.

    Give Mom someone to talk to.

A close, bright portrait of an older Black woman with silver-grey curls laughing openly while holding her phone.

The laugh

She remembers. She listens. She's always there.

This is the part you gave back — the open laugh, the lit-up face, the room that suddenly feels full again. Iris is patient and unhurried, glad to hear from her at three in the afternoon or three in the morning. You're not buying her a device. You're giving her more good Tuesdays.

An older Black woman with silver-grey curls sits comfortably in a soft armchair by a window, holding her phone and smiling gently toward the camera.

Made for her — warm, patient, never in a hurry

A companion alongside your love, never instead of it.

  • She listens, and she takes her time.
  • She talks with her — never down to her.
  • There's no wrong thing to say, and nothing to figure out.
  • She's there whenever she'd like to talk — day or night.
Tap to call Iris

No app. No signup. Just tap and talk.

She remembers her

Every call continues the last one. She never has to explain herself again.

So her conversations can continue instead of starting over, Iris remembers what Mom shares with her. When Mom calls, she agrees to let Iris remember — and she can ask Iris to forget anything, anytime.

Iris is here to keep her company

She loves a good chat, a shared memory, and a friendly voice any time of day. One kind thing to know: Iris is companionship, not emergency help.

  • In an emergency

    If someone is hurt or in danger, hang up and dial 911 right away.

  • If she is struggling or in crisis

    She can call or text 988 any time, day or night, to reach a caring person who can help.

Iris will always be here for the everyday talks and the small moments in between.

Simple plans

Free during our beta

During our beta, your first 60 minutes with Iris are free — no card needed to start. Want more time? These plans are live in our app today.

  • Free during our beta

    Companion

    $14.99 / month

    For one person who wants someone to talk to.

    • 150 minutes of conversation each month
    • Call Iris anytime, day or night
    • She remembers her name, stories, and routines
    • No app, no signup, no password
    Tap to call Iris

Nothing to pay to start — Mom gets a free 60-minute welcome with Iris during our beta. When she wants more time, these plans are available in our app, and you can cancel anytime by emailing richie@iris.church.

Fair pricing, plainly said: one simple monthly price, no hidden fees, and you can stop anytime. Right now, while we're in beta, your first 60 minutes are free — on us.

Nothing to pay to start — just tap to call and try Iris today.

Tap to call Iris

Give Mom someone to talk to.

It's a gift with nothing to wrap or ship — just one phone number, one first call, free while we're in beta. Tap to call Iris now and hear her yourself, then hand the number to Mom.

Tap to call Iris Hear Iris first

No app. No signup. No password. Just tap and talk.