Ashton M. Nanninga Obituary, Death: Beloved 28-Year-Old Nebraska City Baker and Marathon Runner, Known for Her Vibrant Spirit and Community Impact Through “Cake ‘n Crumb,” Dies on June 25, 2025—Memorial Service Scheduled at Calvary Community Church

In the quiet city of Nebraska City, the sudden passing of Ashton M. Nanninga on June 25, 2025, has left a profound void in the hearts of those who knew her—family, friends, neighbors, fellow marathon runners, and the loyal patrons of her cottage bakery, Cake ‘n Crumb. At just 28 years old, Ashton’s life story was a blend of passion, purpose, and community devotion, a story now tragically cut short. Her name, her legacy, and the sweet imprint she left behind are now being mourned and remembered in full depth as her memorial service approaches, scheduled to be held on June 29, 2025, at Calvary Community Church, one of Nebraska City’s spiritual centers.

As news of Ashton’s death rippled through the community, what emerged was not simply the loss of a young woman, but the collective grief of a town that had come to know her as a symbol of generosity, resilience, and spirited creativity. In life, Ashton was not a figure of fanfare or fame—yet her impact was undeniable. With a deep-rooted love for baking and an equal devotion to endurance sports, she managed to stitch herself into the social fabric of her city in subtle yet meaningful ways. Her days were spent nurturing both dough and dreams; mornings would often begin with her lacing up her running shoes for long training sessions, and afternoons saw her hunched over trays of pastries in her modest kitchen bakery—an operation she affectionately branded Cake ‘n Crumb.

The bakery was more than just a business; it was an extension of Ashton’s identity. Cottage bakeries, unlike their commercial counterparts, rely on word-of-mouth, local trust, and the kind of handmade charm that no mass production line could ever replicate. Ashton’s commitment to quality, community, and creativity made Cake ‘n Crumb a beloved feature of local farmers’ markets, special events, and spontaneous home deliveries. People didn’t just buy cakes from Ashton—they bought into her joy, her warmth, and her quiet brilliance.

Though official details regarding the cause of her passing were not made public in the brief obituary, the language used—solemn yet affectionate—reflected the gravity of the community’s grief. Her memorial service, set to be hosted at Calvary Community Church, suggests that Ashton held faith close to her heart, and that her spiritual life likely intertwined with her public one. The choice of venue also underscores the communal importance of her farewell: Calvary is known locally as a gathering place, a sanctuary in both religious and emotional terms.

But to understand Ashton’s story is to understand more than just dates and places—it requires recognizing the life she built through intention and love. Born and raised in Nebraska, Ashton remained anchored to her home state, resisting the often-internalized pressure to leave small towns for larger cities. That rootedness was, in many ways, an act of defiance—an assertion that one does not need to leave home to make a difference. And make a difference she did.

Her dual passions—baking and running—offered complementary expressions of discipline and creativity. Marathons, which demand rigorous physical preparation and mental stamina, were more than just hobbies for Ashton. They mirrored the work ethic she poured into her baking, where precision met patience, and each creation became a labor of care. Her participation in long-distance races was not just a personal challenge but often carried a communal resonance. Whether fundraising through her runs or using them as platforms to promote healthy lifestyles, Ashton turned her solitary strides into shared stories.

There is also something quietly poetic in the way her two passions interlocked. Baking, with its early mornings and intense attention to detail, requires calm focus and a steady hand. Running, especially at the marathon level, requires grit, endurance, and an ability to push past physical limits. Ashton somehow balanced the stillness of frosting a delicate cupcake with the raw drive of sprinting the last miles of a 26.2-mile race. This duality—this grace in motion and stillness—made her unforgettable.

What has become evident in the wake of her passing is the breadth of the lives she touched. From customers who fondly recall her custom birthday cakes to fellow runners who trained beside her under Nebraska’s open skies, Ashton built relationships that spanned age, background, and profession. For many, she was the neighbor who would show up with cookies unannounced. For others, she was the determined athlete whose tenacity inspired more than one person to lace up a pair of running shoes.

The cottage bakery, Cake ‘n Crumb, may now sit in silence, its ovens cold and countertops cleared, but its memory remains warm in the hearts of those who once savored her creations. Each order fulfilled was a gesture of hospitality. Each cake—whether for a wedding, a child’s birthday, or a retirement celebration—was a silent participant in someone else’s milestone. In a very real way, Ashton’s confections became markers of joy, and through them, she became part of hundreds of family memories.

And then there was her “vibrant spirit,” a phrase often used in remembrance but rarely as appropriate as in Ashton’s case. Those who knew her describe a personality marked by enthusiasm that never veered into excess, confidence balanced by humility, and a kind of light that drew people in without demanding attention. Vibrancy, for Ashton, was not loudness—it was luminosity. A quiet brightness that never dimmed, even in moments of challenge.

In a time where attention spans are short and lives are often curated for social media, Ashton lived authentically. Her days were not filtered through screens but measured in early sunrises, cinnamon dustings, and the rhythmic thud of shoes against pavement. Her legacy is thus a call to presence—to being where you are, giving what you can, and making beauty in the small corners of the world.

The upcoming memorial at Calvary Community Church is likely to be a moment not only of mourning but also of deep reflection and celebration. The church itself, a fixture in Nebraska City, has long served as a place of worship and remembrance. In opening its doors to those who loved Ashton, it becomes the setting for a collective goodbye, a final affirmation of a life that—though brief—was profoundly full.

For the family, the days leading to June 29 will no doubt be wrapped in sorrow, but also in the gathering of stories. Memorials are as much about grief as they are about legacy. They become moments of shared memory, where a community knits itself closer by remembering together. Stories of Ashton’s marathon triumphs, her late-night baking sessions, her spontaneous laughter, and her generosity will rise in the sanctuary, each recollection a thread in the tapestry of her enduring influence.

In a broader sense, Ashton’s life—and her sudden passing—speaks to the fragility and significance of young adult contributions to small-town America. Her story is not one of wasted potential, but rather of fully realized intention in a brief span. It is a reminder that youth does not equate to incompletion, and that age is not the sole metric of impact. At 28, Ashton had already cemented her place in the community, and perhaps even more importantly, in the memory of those she touched.

As the bakery remains closed, as the running trails fall quiet without her footsteps, and as the community prepares for the upcoming memorial, there is a kind of sacred stillness now enveloping Nebraska City. Yet in this silence echoes the affirmation of a life lived meaningfully. Ashton M. Nanninga is no longer here, but her essence—embodied in frosted confections, tireless strides, and acts of quiet kindness—remains deeply rooted in the city she loved.

The arc of Ashton’s story may have reached its end, but its ripples continue to widen. For every young woman striving to make a difference in her hometown, for every cottage baker crafting dreams from flour and sugar, for every runner seeking a finish line, Ashton’s legacy stands as both a beacon and a benchmark.

She did not seek fame. She did not ask for accolades. Yet, in a life led with grace, passion, and purpose, she earned remembrance—and more than that, she earned love.