The Good and Beautiful Debbie Lott, My Mom

This is the eulogy delivered at a Sunrise Baptist Church memorial service on January 25, two weeks after Debbie Lott’s passing.

Barrels of ink have been spilled contemplating what it means to have a good death. According to almost every measure, my mother Debbie Lott had a good death two weeks ago today.

Many friends visited in her last days. Some traveled great distances to do so. She had one final Christmas dinner, surrounded by family. Her children and grandchildren rushed to her bedside.

Mom made her exit holding the hand of her husband of over 50 years. She was at peace with all and professed to be ready to go if those dread cancers couldn’t be fought off.

So, yes, she had a good death, but I’d rather focus here on her good life.

I am going to quote at length from a remembrance written by her husband and my father, Pastor Bob Lott, one week after her passing. I will try very hard, and probably fail, to hold off the waterworks while doing so.

She was 14 when they first met, Dad thinks, though maybe 15 as these things go. The Temple Baptist Church high school group from Portland, Oregon, was having “a waterskiing outing” at Lacamas Lake in nearby Clark County, Washington.

Now, you have to understand one “rule” of this event to make sense of what came next. Everyone had to go into the lake. If they didn’t, a certain amount of hazing was allowed and even expected. Baptists take matters involving water very seriously.

“I arrived a little late and noticed her. My reaction was, ‘Who is the new girl?’” Dad said. “She was beautiful. I didn’t make a very good impression that day. I ended up pushing her in the water and getting her clothes all wet. It wasn’t a great start.”

Fortunately, things got better from there!

“Over the next few years our relationship blossomed,” Dad said. “We became very good friends and had so much fun together. Debbie always made me laugh. She was kind, smart, artistic, and full of life.”

He described another sort of blossoming, a spiritual one, that happened as well.

“When Debbie was 16, she became a follower of Jesus and I also became a Christ follower at the age of 19. Both of our lives began to change. We started dating and were married in 1973,” Dad explained.

One reason for that marriage was that he was set to move away to train for the ministry. She moved away with him. They traveled to St. Paul, Minnesota, “where I attended Bethel Seminary to become a pastor,” Dad said.

Ministry continued to direct their travels after graduation. They served at churches in Tracy, California, Portland, Oregon, and Tacoma and Custer, Washington, where I speak to you today: The church at the bend in the road.

They grew a small family along the way, with new children in California, Oregon, and Washington.

“The Lord blessed us with three sons, four living grandchildren, and one woman who is like our daughter,” Dad said.

You will hear from that “all-but-adopted daughter,” as the obituary printed in your booklets calls her, in a minute. And you will see why I asked if she wanted to deliver this eulogy instead. Cristina is a much better speaker than I will ever be. But back to Dad:

“Debbie was the best wife, mother, and grandmother who was truly a gift to me and to everyone that knew her,” he judged. “She walked with Jesus and made a tremendous impact on hundreds of people,” many of whom are here today.

Thank you for showing up to help honor Mom’s memory. If you can forgive a witticism on this heavy occasion, Yogi Berra said you should always go to other people’s funerals or they won’t go to yours.

But I am delaying here, frankly because I don’t really want this next part to be true.

“On January 11, Debbie passed away after a long bout with cancer,” Dad said. “She is now in heaven with the one that she followed her whole life, the Lord Jesus Christ. I miss her so much and loved her deeply. I will never forget the wonderful wife that the Lord gave to me.”

Her second born son Andrew “Drew” Lott had these words to say about Mom:

“My sweet momma passed away after battling cancer for a couple of years. She was a steadfast wife to my dad for 51 years, a loving mom, a joyful grandma, and a loyal friend. Most important, she was a faithful follower of Jesus who lived out her days with purpose. The more that I reflect on her life and impact, the more honored that I feel to be her son.”

And her youngest, Christopher, had this to say:

“Sleep well, Mom. Your love is everywhere.”

I don’t have much to add to those statements other than general agreement, but I would like to take a moment to talk about her God-given talents. She had an eye for detail. You could see in her decorating sense and also in her art, if those are separate things. Have a look at this Christmas tree.

This was Mom’s final painting, made about a week, maybe a week and a half, before her passing at Alderwood Park Health & Rehabilitation in Bellingham. It’s not her best work but to me it’s a minor masterpiece.

She was going blind. Her cancer ravaged body was shaking like crazy. She STILL did better than I would have.

I shared this painting in a comic book group shortly after her death. Many commenters saw the art in it.

One of them enthused, “I really like this a lot. Maybe not being able to paint with a steady hand forced this into an expressionistic design? It’s very beautiful. there’s a flurry of motion around the tree.”

Another said, “I think it is beautiful. I feel it.”

I feel it, too. If a fire were to consume my house tomorrow, I would be sure to get a few things away from the blaze: my children Sparrow and Augustine, my wife Angela, and this painting.

I would save it at great cost because of what it says to me. There is a saying: “Art is the fight against decay.” The source of it has proved elusive, but I believe it to be true, and never truer than in this final flurry of expression.

Mom’s body was failing. Her systems were shutting down left and right. That was obvious to everyone, including her. That didn’t stop her from creating something truly beautiful as one of her final gestures that I plan to keep and protect and to treasure.

READ MORE from Jeremy Lott:

When I Baptized Your Mother

Of Elon Musk, Alex Jones, the Bible, and a Little Funeral

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