Lavon Potts Funeral Service

Lavon Potts Funeral Service

04.03.2026

Obituary:

Dorothea Lavon (Elmore) Potts, 95, of Washington, Indiana, passed away peacefully surrounded by her family on Saturday, March 28, 2026, at her home in Washington.

She was born on August 20, 1930, to the late Russell & Geneva (Maxwell) Elmore in Belle Union, Indiana, a small town in Putnam County.

Lavon married the love of her life, Curtis Lee Potts, on May 14, 1960, and they spent over 65 years together happily married. Together, they had two children, David and Dana.

Lavon spent many years working as a homemaker, ensuring her household was well taken care of. She was a member of Bethel Church of Washington. She enjoyed cooking, ironing, and keeping a clean home. She also enjoyed sewing, quilting, and crocheting. Lavon spent countless hours preparing holiday meals and loved every minute of it. Having her family together for the holidays was very important to her.

She was preceded in death by her parents, Russell & Geneva (Maxwell) Elmore, her sisters, Sarah (Charles) Kerr, and Roberta (James) Perry; and her brother, Robert Elmore.

Lavon is survived by her children, David (Lynda) Potts, and Dana (Allan) Birt; her grandsons, Derek Birt & Jeffrey (Kate) Birt; 3 step great-grandchildren, 5 step great-great grandchildren; her sister-in-law, Louise Elmore; and two nieces.

Funeral Message:

Part 1

His eye was on the sparrow, and his eye was on a tiny baby girl born in Belle Union, so small they kept her warm in a Dutch oven. The doctors told her parents that she wouldn't live past 16, but God had other plans. He had already written her days.

2 Corinthians 4:7 says, "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us." God loves to put treasure inside fragile vessels. And Lavon Potts was one of the most fragile and full vessels you'll ever meet. She was always small, and she couldn't hide that.

Psalm 139 tells us that God knew Lavon before she was born, and he knew all the struggles and challenges she would encounter in this life. He also knew all the treasures that she would hold in her small, fragile body.

Part 2

Her small stature brought her many challenges in life, which she worked very hard to overcome or avoid. It gave her an appreciation for small things. There were many simple pleasures in life she enjoyed, like playing cards with her family and laughing together. She struggled to shuffle cards, and her kids — who loved her dearly — took full advantage of that. Somehow, it was always Lavon's turn to deal. She never quite figured out why.

She loved to shop and would go after whatever small thing caught her eye. But sometimes she struggled to find her direction after finding the treasure she was after. It's easy to get lost in big places when you're small and fragile, and you know it.

Her children tested her nerves constantly. They climbed trees they weren't supposed to climb and played in haylofts they weren't supposed to play in. And this was a woman who was terrified of water — imagine what it was like for her watching them wade out into the ocean on those beach vacations. She raised some practical jokesters, and while she may not have played too many of the pranks herself, she made herself available as the source of that laughter. And while those pranks may have driven Lavon crazy in the moment, the laughter that filled that house was one of the greatest treasures she left behind. There was a part of her that was excited to see her kids reaching beyond their own limitations, and perhaps praying that one day God would send her some grandkids to love and spoil, and that the practical jokers might get a taste of their own medicine. She was a woman who noticed, appreciated, and passed along that appreciation for the small things in life. 

She knew her limitations, but if there was anything she could do to make it better, she would do it wholeheartedly. And sometimes she pushed herself past those limitations. She bought herself a car before she even knew how to drive, and she got her uncle to teach her so she would have the independence to go where she needed to, without depending on anyone else. Then, when she decided the family didn't need two cars, she sold hers. She gave up the car, but no one could take that accomplishment from her."

She was not afraid of hard work or getting outside and getting her hands dirty. But she felt safer seeing the world from inside her car window, except for the day a buffalo came up to the car to see her at Grant’s farm. It wasn't easy being small and fragile. But she did the best she could, and better than many, in her own way.

Part 3

She made her home more than her place of comfort. She made it a place where she honored her family and guests by decorating it and keeping it clean. For her, it wasn't about showing off. It was about showing care. The family couldn't keep track of how many irons she went through because she kept wearing them out, ironing everything—not just their dress clothes, but also their blue jeans and their bedsheets. Whatever she did, she did with her whole heart.

The kitchen was her workshop where she practiced her craft, cooking all kinds of food, from the comfort of homemade noodles, cakes, pies, and cookies. And she always made sure there was more than enough for everyone there to eat. Her kitchen was a place where real treasure was made and shared with everyone who entered her home. While she didn’t love the attention of others taking care of her, she received it with grace. Giving up her domain in the kitchen may have been the hardest thing of all. The last meal she cooked was one of her specialties: homemade chicken and noodles. Noodle-making was something she learned from her mother. It was a tradition she carried forward her whole life. But this time, the noodles didn’t dry out properly, so they cooked into one big noodle. But she tried — because giving was who she was. And Curtis, you sat at her table, ate that last noodle, and told her it was good. You received everything she had to give, right to the very end. That's what love looks like.

(pause)

Part 4

Today is a hard day because the jar of clay that Lavon Potts was to us is broken. We feel the pain and the loss and the grief. Lavon knew she needed grace. She asked us to sing about it today. And I believe the God who had His eye on her from the very beginning received her with that same grace. She is with Him now — whole, at peace, and no longer fragile.

That treasure that she poured into your lives doesn't stop with her death. There is a sadness that we carry today when we think of her. But there is also a bubbling treasure of joy that you'll experience every time you gather around a table, every time you roll out noodles, every time you think about that rubber snake on the stairs, or the buffalo at Grant's Farm, every time you pick up one of her teacups.

That gift that goes far beyond those possessions, those things. It continues on because that treasure was never really hers. That was God's treasure that she carried for him and passed on to you. You can rest assured because her life was a testimony—a life and a love that the world said wouldn't last. But God had his eye on her from those moments she was placed into a Dutch oven at her birth to her final breath.

And his eye is on your family now. Closing Prayer