Debra Claire Wearden Hampton: A Personal Remembrance
Eulogy given by Jeff Hampton, August 3, 2008, Victoria, Texas
How do I summarize in words the life of someone who spent a lifetime working with words. Perhaps I can start with three simple words that were so important to Debra: faith, family, vocation.
More than anybody I’ve ever known, Debra had her priorities exactly as they should be. It was God and faith first, family second, and career third. If her work ever took precedence, it was only because it was not just her job – it was a vocation, an opportunity for ministry.
Faith
Debra and I met at Baylor University, and I have to say that God must have a sense of humor. Why else would it be that this Baptist boy went to the world’s largest Baptist university and fell in love with a cute Catholic girl.
But I also have to say that God had a larger purpose, because it became clear to us as our relationship grew that our personal faiths and core beliefs were the same. For that reason we never asked each other to change – we just accepted each other as we were. Over the years our blending of Baptist and Catholic traditions proved to be a blessing to us both – helping us to grow and mature in our faiths personally and as a couple.
Until recently Debra never missed a Sunday mass in her life, and that meant that if we were traveling, we’d have to find a church. She left that task to me, and looking back now I see that Debra’s devotion helped keep me close to God as well. And along the way, we worshiped together in every type of church imaginable – from grand cathedrals such as Notre Dame in Paris, to tiny chapels in New Mexico villages.
As devout as Debra was in her Catholicism, she was also boldly ecumenical. She didn’t care what your faith was; she just cared that you had a faith.
Debra was the very essence of the hands and feet of Christ on earth. She took great joy in – and took very seriously – her ministries: helping children learn about their faith, working with adults coming into the church, and taking communion to the elderly and homebound.
With the children, she worked hard to make it a special time of discovery, and she ensured that their first communion was a day they would never forget. At Easter and Christmas, she’d prepare little gifts that would be fun for the children but would also teach them something about their faith.
Often on Saturdays when she’d make her communion visits, she’d say, “I’ll be back in just a little while,” but then I wouldn’t see her for hours. She wasn’t the type to just rush in, pray, and rush out. Often she was the only visitor these people would have for days, and if they wanted to visit a while, she would stay and do just that.
Family
Debra loved her family so much and it showed in how she chose to spend her time. On our wedding day, after the reception, when most couples might rush off to start their new life, Debra wanted to stop by the house and see her family one more time, and we did.
When she started her career at The Dallas Morning News, Debra often worked on Sunday nights. If we went to Victoria for a visit, we’d stay as long as possible and drive straight from Victoria to the Morning News. She’d be exhausted but glad for the time spent with her family.
Through the years, more often than not we spent our vacation time with family – both hers and mine. If we did get a chance to get away to go somewhere different, it was usually with family members coming along. When Debra was selected by the French American Foundation to work in France for six weeks, the trip there became a family pilgrimage.
Debra loved her nieces and nephews as if they were her own children. Whenever we gathered with family, she was as comfortable playing with the kids as she was talking to the grown-ups. And often that playing included getting down on the floor with them and acting the child herself. I can still see her climbing in and out of playhouses, splashing in fountains, chasing ducks and rolling pumpkins. When the kids got older, she loved to talk with them about their school work and their growing activities.
Vocation
Debra and I met in the journalism department at Baylor University. We shared a few classes together and eventually the two of us were named editors of the campus paper. Debra was a real pro and I marveled at how she sat with the younger students, helping them hone their skills. She’d encourage them with words like, “you’ve almost got it” or “try this and see if it works for you.”
It was in that setting – working side-by-side and often toiling late into the night – that we fell in love. And it was in the newsroom one night, when the work was done and the paper was put to bed, that we concluded without a doubt that God meant for us to be together.
Coming out of journalism school, some of us became writers and some editors. Debra’s path was editing, and it suited her well. She didn’t care about getting the by-line on a story; she was happy working behind the scenes to make sure the story was the best it could be. Debra’s goal was to help make the writer shine. When she moved from newspapers to book publishing, she didn’t talk to authors about “rewrites.” Instead she helped them “shape” their narrative into a perfect piece of literature. And the writers and authors loved her for that.
Having said that, Debra was an excellent writer too. Over the past couple of years at the Texas Catholic newspaper she returned to writing, and I think she really enjoyed the opportunity to help people of faith share their stories.
On August 4, the Texas flag in front of The Dallas Morning News flew at half staff in Debra’s honor. I can’t think of a greater way for her colleagues in the profession to show their appreciation.
A Few Personal Notes About Debra
Debra was always in a hurry. I could be in the shower with the water running and the fan on, and I could still hear her feet pounding the hardwood floors as she raced around the house doing things.
Debra loved to shop. She liked to look her best and had a great sense of style. She was never extravagant about it; she always looked for the deal, sale, or bargain.
Debra was generous. She rarely went shopping without finding something for someone else too: a new shirt for me, or especially a dress for her mother, sister or niece. When she went on a pilgrimage to Italy in November she came home with her suitcase stuffed with gifts. She gave generously of her time and talent to the church and other ministries. She helped expand a radio ministry by transcribing and editing the homilies and publishing them in books.
Debra was compassionate. She had a heart for people who were hurting and a strong sense of their need. She’d often come home late from church or work and she’d explain that she was visiting with someone who needed a shoulder to lean on.
Debra always put others ahead of herself. Over the past year during times of suffering, she would worry aloud about what it was doing to her family. Debra was petite, but she wasn’t weak. She had endurance and stamina like you wouldn’t believe, and nothing proved that more than these past 16 months.
Debra was a collector and a packrat. She just couldn’t let go of anything. It was perhaps our biggest area of argument, but I see now that it was one of her most endearing qualities.
Debra was fiercely independent. She had her own bank account, bought her own car, managed her own business affairs. She worked extremely hard and I think it was just her way of measuring her own productivity and value.
Debra loved fried chicken, chalupas and refried beans, spaghetti and meatballs, mint chocolate chip ice cream, strawberries, milk, honey and peanut butter. We ate out a lot and I’d often find her in the kitchen just as we were leaving, eating a spoonful of peanut butter. I’d say, “we’ll be eating in just a few minutes,” and she’d reply, “I know, but I just wanted a taste.”
Debra was sweet. I always called her “my sweet girl” because she was the sweetest soul I have ever known – and likely will ever know.
At this point, Debra the editor would tell me I’m rambling, and so I’ll conclude with this:
In his book A Severe Mercy, Sheldon Vanauken wrote of the early loss of his wife Davy in terms that Debra would appreciate and that we today can draw comfort from. He said that nothing now could mar their love: the manuscript had gone safely to the printer. He wasn’t saying that they’d had enough time together; he was desperate for more time with her, just as we all long for more time with Debra.
What he meant was that nothing could change what they had become. I believe he was also saying that her person was complete. She was fully mature in her faith, in her relationships, and in all things that mattered most. She had become all that God had intended.
I’m confident we can say the same thing about Debra. Her manuscript is complete . . . shaped, written, and edited to perfection, and now, delivered to the publisher – her lord and savior – right on schedule. Amen!
All my love . . . always!
Copyright © Jeff Hampton 2013