Marinara and Granola: a tribute to the life of Debby Wittenmyer
This week, a friend of ours unexpectedly lost her life. When death is sudden, our minds have difficulty processing the news, difficulty believing that this person who lived, walked, laughed, breathed just a minute ago will never again do these things on this side of Heaven. It is comforting to know that Debby is on the other side now, the side where she will no longer experience foot pain or headaches, where the unrelenting sorrow of lost loved ones will no longer grip her heart. But she leaves behind her own friends and beloved family who will now carry with them the void of her loss in the days and years to come.
Two Ways to Respond
As we celebrated Debby’s life over the past two days, sharing laughable stories of her escapades, shedding tears, exchanging blank, unbelieving stares that she’s really not here anymore, I am convinced that there are two options ahead for each of us: fear or gratitude.
Fear is the default. It’s the response our psyche intuitively slides into when a loss of this magnitude shows up banging at the door. Fear, uninvited, shouts questions that we can’t ignore. What about her husband? How will her children recover from this? What if this happens to me or my husband without warning? Will my children be left without their mom or dad too soon? Have I done enough to leave an impression on the world?
Gratitude, however, is the quiet force that shuts fear down. In the midst of great sorrow, gratitude takes great effort. But don’t all worthy endeavors? Gratitude is the healthy option, the response that sucks air out of fear’s lungs and supplies courage to the griever for the journey ahead. It’s a gear-shifter, an atmosphere adjuster, an opening of the curtains so light can flood a dark room.
Practicing Gratitude
I am so grateful for Debby’s life. For the way she adores Steve and cares for her family with passion and joy (present tense verbs because her memory lives on with us... and I think it’s ok when we don’t want to refer to a friend in past tense yet). I’m grateful for her home tips (like the binders she suggested for organizing mail and recipes), her kitchen gadgets (like the Pampered Chef pot scrapers she always raves about— I still use mine!), and her enthusiasm during Ruth Burrow’s cooking classes (which inspired me to have a better attitude about cooking for my family!).
The thing I’m most grateful for is Debby’s effortless way of encouraging others through small, thoughtful gifts and handwritten notes. This is the powerful impact Debby leaves behind and the legacy we can continue in her honor. A common theme at her memorial service was the love she demonstrates through her homemade marinara sauce and granola. Countless people over the years have been recipients of these simple treasures. When recounting memories of her mom, Debby’s daughter Abbey spoke about a regular scene in their home: jars of marinara, bags of granola and stacks of handmade cards lined up to be delivered to people that God placed on Debby’s heart.
Why? Why would Debby spend hours making marinara sauce from scratch, then give it away? Why take time out of the busyness to hand write notes in a digital age? What motivated her to send gifts, flowers, and laminated song-lyrics and poems to hurting friends, acquaintances and strangers?
If you know Debby, the answer is unmistakable: God’s love for her fuels her expression of love for others. She has a personal relationship with Jesus, completely surrendered to him. Her thoughtfulness— and diligence to follow through on that thoughtfulness!— is motivated by love. A letting go of her own agenda so that others could feel supported, encouraged and not alone.
What would our homes, our neighborhoods, our workplaces, our lives look like if we carved out time to be more thoughtful toward others? What are some ways you can support and encourage someone in your life? Ask God to show you! Ask him to make you more open to the opportunities in front of you. If you ask, I bet he’ll show you simple treasures, unique to you, that you can share with others... your very own marinara and granola.
Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
- Leo Buscaglia