If you knew Lance, you knew it wouldn't take long before the conversation turned to food.

Whether you had stopped by for a few minutes or planned to spend the afternoon, Lance would soon be telling you about a recipe he was perfecting, a new technique he had learned, or the next meal he couldn't wait to prepare. Cooking wasn't just something he enjoyed, it was one of the greatest joys of his life. He loved creating meals, talking about food, teaching others what he knew, and sharing both with the people he loved.

Lance McClellan was born on June 2, 1967, in Shreveport, Louisiana, to Dennis Leon McClellan and Sherry Ann Pittser. He grew up surrounded by family, spending his childhood exploring fields and creeks with his sisters, building memories that would stay with them forever. As a boy and young man, he loved being active, especially playing basketball. He was competitive, energetic, and happiest with a ball in his hands.

He was also someone who appreciated style. Lance liked looking his best, whether he was dressed casually in a perfectly matched sweatsuit with his favorite Jordans or special-edition Nikes, or dressed up in a shirt, tie, and polished shoes. Looking through the nearly forty pairs of shoes he left behind, it's impossible not to smile. They were so very "Lance."

Lance had one of the sharpest minds you'll ever encounter. He noticed everything, remembered everything, and never stopped learning. He loved sharing what he knew, especially when it came to cooking. Good enough was rarely good enough for Lance. He was always searching for a better recipe, a better technique, or another way to improve something. His curiosity never left him.

He also had a quick wit and an unforgettable sense of humor. Sometimes it was mischievous, sometimes a irreverent, but it was always uniquely Lance. If he knew an unusual story about a place or a bit of trivia no one else had ever heard, you were probably going to hear about it.

Lance loved animals deeply. His beloved pit bull, Baby, wasn't just a pet, she was family. He adored her and losing her broke his heart. Anyone who saw them together knew how much she meant to him.

When Lance was 32 years old, an accident forever changed the course of his life and left him a quadriplegic. While it changed what his body could do, it never changed who he was. He faced each day with remarkable determination and resilience, refusing to let his circumstances define him. Those who loved him watched him continue to learn, cook, teach, laugh, and find joy in life despite challenges most of us can only imagine.

Family and friends often describe Lance as someone who never gave up.

His lifelong friend Jack Shreffler wrote that from the day they met in 1988 until Lance's final days; Lance was the definition of a loyal friend. Through decades of friendship, Jack never heard

him complain. Instead, he watched him face life with grace, positivity, and determination, always looking forward and remaining a source of light to those around him.

Over the last year of Lance's life, Ron wasn't just his brother-in-law, he had become one of Lance's closest companions and one of the people Lance trusted most. They spent countless hours together talking, watching sports, laughing, and simply enjoying each other's company.

Ron remembers football games at Dennis and Janet's house, where Lance was usually planning his next gourmet masterpiece while everyone else watched the game. Some of their favorite memories were the simple ones, sitting together on the patio at Rainwater, talking about life, laughing, and enjoying their favorite herb. Those ordinary moments became some of the most meaningful.

Ron admired the way Lance faced every challenge life placed before him. He often said Lance played the hand God dealt him without ever giving up. "Wings in place of wheels," Ron said, a simple but beautiful reminder that after so many years of perseverance, Lance is finally free.

Rob, a dear friend and former brother-in-law, shared that Lance was one of the greatest blessings in his life. Whether they were cooking together, sitting outside talking, or simply spending quiet time together, Rob treasured every moment. As he said, "When I was with him...it was an experience." Anyone who knew Lance understands exactly what he meant.

Yessie remembers Lance as a dear friend who made a lasting impression on her life and was always on her side. That kind of loyalty was one of his greatest gifts. He made people feel like they mattered.

To his sister Kristi, Lance was the strong, protective big brother she admired growing up. She remembers their childhood adventures together, running through fields and creeks, and smiles knowing that today he is whole again. Her words bring comfort to all of us: "Jesus was ready for you. I know you are running through fields and creeks again like we did as kids. Until I see you again."

As Lance's older sister, I find it difficult to put into words what he meant to me. He was simply my little brother, and my love for him just was. We were very different people in many ways, and like most siblings, we challenged and frustrated each other from time to time. But underneath it all was a bond that never needed explaining.

Lance had high standards for himself and for everyone around him. He could be stubborn, opinionated, and wonderfully exasperating. He had a mind that never slowed down and an incredible memory. Yet beneath that tough exterior was a softer heart that he didn't always show. One of the greatest gifts God gave me was seeing that gentleness during the last months of his life. I'll always treasure the moments when he showed kindness, sweetness, and even worried about whether I might be upset with him. Those quiet moments reminded me that love isn't always spoken in obvious ways.

More than anything, Lance loved his family. His daughter, Lindsey, was the greatest joy of his life, and becoming "Papa" to his granddaughter, Phoenix, brought him a happiness that was impossible to miss. He loved them with all his heart.

Lance is survived by his daughter, Lindsey McClellan of Fort Worth, Texas; his beloved granddaughter, Phoenix; his mother, Sherry Pittser McClellan of The Dalles, Oregon; his father and stepmother, Dennis and Janet McClellan of Pearland, Texas; his brother, Bart McClellan of Academy, Texas; his sisters, Sherisa McClellan and her husband, Ron Rambin, of Fort Worth, Texas, Stephanie McClellan of Arlington, Oregon, and Kristi McPherson of The Woodlands, Texas; and his nieces, Julia Rambin of Fort Worth, Texas, and Lexi Ormes of Houston, Texas.

He was preceded in death by his grandparents, Dayton Leon McClellan, Wilma McClellan, Dan Pittser, Faye Pittser, and Jesse Gorman.

If each of us were asked to describe Lance, we'd probably tell a different story. Some would remember the chef. Others would remember the athlete, the sports fan, the sharp dresser with a closet full of shoes, the loyal friend, the protective brother, the devoted father and Papa, the man who loved his dog, or the one who never stopped learning. Every memory is different, but together they tell the story of the same remarkable man.

Our hearts are broken, but we find peace knowing that Lance is no longer limited by the body that challenged him for so many years. We like to imagine him reunited with those who went before him, running through fields and creeks once again, whole and free.

We will think of him whenever we gather around a table to share a meal, try a new recipe, cheer on a game, lace up a great pair of shoes, or simply spend time with the people we love.

That is where Lance will always live with us, in our stories, our laughter, and our hearts.