This book is online. It was written to be read and shared, not sold. If while reading it, you think of someone or someones, send them the link.

That’s the process.

And—like the blog—I’m sure the book is Heaven directed.

During the fall of 2013 Lorna developed a persistent cough that continued to worsen through the winter and into spring. She assumed she had bronchitis and paid little attention to it.

In April 2014 we rented a two-story condo in St. George, Utah for spring break. While there, Lorna had a difficult time going up the stairs and was not sleeping well. Just two days in to the vacation our children convinced Lorna it was time to go home and see a doctor. Upon arriving home, she made an appointment with our family physician for a blood test.

The blood test came back normal. Lorna then asked the doctor to x-ray her chest. Afterwards, while looking at the x-ray it appeared that she had an enlarged heart. The doctor scheduled an echocardiogram for Monday, April seventh.

The echocardiogram revealed that her heart was not enlarged. She had a pericardial effusion—an excessive amount of fluid around her heart. We went to Utah Valley Medical Center to have the procedure that would drain the fluid from around her heart.

Prior to the procedure, the cardiologist told us that the heart is surrounded by pericardial fluid, normally two to three tablespoons. The fluid lubricates the heart, allowing it to pump and turn with minimal friction. Normal pericardial fluid is straw-colored. He said straw colored is good; any blood in the fluid could indicate a problem.

When the cardiologist finished, he had drained—in his words—“Almost three Coke cans of fluid.”  He showed me the bag. The bag was about the size of a gallon zip- lock bag.  It was bulging, and it was all blood.

He sent the blood to the lab and sent Lorna to have an MRI.

A quick review of the MRI didn’t reveal anything unusual. Lorna was released from the hospital, and we went home.

The next day, the cardiologist called. The lab results indicated cancer, and further review of the MRI showed a small tumor, near the bottom of her left lung. The tumor had penetrated the pericardium, causing the fluid build up around her heart. He had proactively scheduled an appointment for her with an oncologist. When she hung up with the cardiologist, she immediately called the oncologist and cancelled the appointment.

A week and a half later she had a follow-up echocardiogram. As the doctor reviewed the test results, he could see no evidence of additional fluid build- up. He then said, “Okay, let’s talk about the cancer.” Lorna replied, “What cancer? I don’t have cancer. Do I look like someone who has cancer?” With a bit of a puzzled expression on his face, he said he thought that the lab results indicated cancer, and the MRI revealed a small tumor. Lorna told him the blood work at her doctor’s office had come back normal; it did not indicate anything unusual. He told Lorna that bloodwork seldom indicates cancer. He left the room for a moment to confirm the reports.

When he returned he told her the lab tests indicated cancer, and the MRI indicated a small tumor, about the size of a dinner olive, in her left lung. He strongly urged her to see the oncologist. An appointment was set for May 1, 2014.

At the appointment, the oncologist asked Lorna what she thought the problem was. She replied that she thought it was bronchitis, and she was fine now. (After she had the pericardial fluid drained, she felt energized.)

He asked her if she had been coughing up blood. She answered no. He asked her if her bones hurt, and again she answered no. (The answer to both those questions should have been “yes”). He then felt the lymph nodes in her neck and chest area.

Upon completing the exam and with the information from the MRI and the test on the blood drained from her pericardium, he carefully presented his diagnosis: stage- four lung cancer.

With therapy, ten to twelve months to live. Without therapy, six months. Lorna just stared at him in disbelief. She didn’t say another word.

I was trying to process what he said. I’m thinking, “The tumor is the size of a small dinner olive. How hard can that be to remove?” I asked him, “When you say therapy, you mean radiation and chemo?” He said “Yes.” “So ten to twelve months if she does radiation and chemo?” “Yes.” “And six months without therapy?” “Yes.”

He told us that if we wanted to get a second opinion we should go to Salt Lake City. He had reviewed her case with the other Utah County oncologists, and all were of the same opinion.

Without saying a word, Lorna stood up, walked out of the exam room through the waiting room, out of the building to the car. When I caught up with her, she said, “I never want to hear from them again. No appointments, no phone calls, no texts, no email, nothing.”

Traditional medicine gave her no choice. Her options were now faith and alternative therapies, some of which had served her and our family well in the past. She expected them to serve her well again.

She asked our children and me to not tell anyone about her diagnosis. She didn’t want people asking the what, why, how questions that would take her focus away from what she believed would heal her.

Lorna had an indomitable spirit and was project driven. To make herself well was now her project, as she said a little later in the day, “I have a whole bag of tricks to solve this problem.”

Through May and into June, her alternative therapies seemed to be serving her well. She was feeling good and was pretty much back to her normal routines.

Toward the end of June, her therapies seemed to be losing their effectiveness. Throughout all this she had continued working (she was a sales representative for a printing company), and as an effort to conserve energy she made arrangements to do most of her work from home.

July didn’t bring any improvement. Toward the end of the month she told me that “Maybe I was sicker than I thought.” She had never completely accepted the cancer diagnosis and the realization that she probably did have cancer—and that her remedy efforts weren’t bringing the results she expected were troubling to her.

Early in August,  in the office in our home. I can hear Lorna in the bedroom down the hall, whimpering, moaning, groaning, even an occasional wailing. I go check on her. She is crouched on the bed. I ask if she’s ok. She looks up at me and very sternly tells me to leave,  “and, do not come back.”

Ten or fifteen minutes later she came out of the bedroom, went into the back yard, and lay down on the grass. I got up and followed her.

She then told me that in the bedroom she was seeing people, one at a time, from throughout her life. People she had  never forgiven. Those that had offended or slighted her in some way.  Those she held grudges against for offenses real or imagined.  People she had been judgmental or critical of. People she had offended or hurt by her actions. She was seeing them all.

When she had finished sharing her experience, she continued to lie on the grass while looking into the sky.

After a few moments of silence looking in to the sky, Lorna spoke up. She told me what she had just seen while lying there: a small school auditorium with chairs that had been set up for an assembly that had just ended. Her impression was that the chairs had been occupied by the people she was seeing during her reconciliation experience in the bedroom.

A man was putting the chairs away and sweeping the floor. He had his shirt unbuttoned down to his waist, his garments were showing. She remembered from her youth that her dad would do the same thing during the summer when he was working in the yard or garden.

The man turned and gave her a loving look of approval. It was her dad, Danny Brashear, who had passed away in 1985.

When she told me this, my thought was that she was being prepared to go home.

She told me later that it was “an anguish of soul experience.” Anguish means extreme mental distress. Syn: torment, torture.

The first week in August, because of some discomfort breathing, Lorna requested that an x-ray done on her lungs. Her left lung had filled with fluid. Doctors drained about a liter of fluid in that procedure.

On Sunday morning August 17th Lorna sent our daughter Calli a text:

“I asked my dad and brothers [three of her brothers had passed away, two she never met; one died at birth, one at four years of age, and one in an auto accident as an adult] to give me a blessing from the other side of the veil, and told them exactly what I wanted. The problem with most blessings on this side is they are full of fluff and generalities, because the giver is generally too afraid to command and make it so.”

Later that evening, our oldest son, Scott, had come over to check on his mother. I was in the bedroom when I heard him come in.

Lorna had just asked me to give her a blessing and heal her. I started to mumble and stammer a little. She told me “Listen, it’s your priesthood, and my faith–-do it.”

I found Scott in the kitchen, told him his mother wanted a blessing and asked him to anoint. He looked at me, then immediately got up and went outside.

A few minutes later he came into the bedroom. Before closing the anointing, he invited Lorna’s dad and brothers to join us in the sealing and blessing. He didn’t know, nor did I, about the text Lorna had sent Calli that morning. When I saw him in the kitchen and asked him to anoint, he immediately felt the presence of his grandfather and uncles and had to go outside to compose himself.

Lorna’s dad and brothers did join with Scott and me in giving Lorna that blessing. I felt a power I had never felt before. I was merely the voice for the Father’s blessing Lorna’s dad gave her. She was promised she would be healed completely.

After the blessing, Lorna sent Calli this text:

“I asked your dad to set aside his own fears and give me a blessing to rebuke this illness and be healed from this moment on. He was hesitant at first but stepped up to the plate. Scott anointed and actually asked my dad and brothers to join in. Interesting.

“I honestly believe for the first time that I have done everything I am supposed to do in regard to this illness. It is finished.”

The next morning, Monday the 18th, the discomfort had returned, and Lorna had her left lung drained again. The previous two times, after the procedure, she felt immediate relief. Not this time.

On Wednesday the 20th I took her to Salt Lake City for one of her therapies. When we arrived home afterwards she said there was no way she could walk into the house. We went to the emergency room at the Utah Valley Medical Center.

Her left leg was swollen, so doctors did an MRI on her leg. The MRI revealed a blood clot. She was checked into the hospital. She was then given a complete MRI.

The results indicated a need for surgery to insert a greenfield filter, a basket-type device designed to catch blood clots from entering the heart and lungs. At 1:00 a.m. Thursday morning, the 21st, the surgery was performed.

She was at the hospital until Friday evening the 22nd. Before we left, I asked The doctor to tell me what the science was telling him. He replied, “The tumor is growing. Extensive blood clots in both lungs. She won’t see 2015.”

On Saturday morning the 23rd, Lorna woke up in a panic. She was having a difficult time breathing. We hurried to the American Fork Hospital emergency room.

The doctor put her on oxygen and a morphine drip. It calmed her down immediately. Up until the last few days, four Ibuprofen twice a day had taken care of any discomfort.

She continued to deteriorate throughout the day. Late that evening she was transferred from the ER and checked into the hospital. Four of our children who lived close came to the hospital to spend time with their mother. We called Katie (our daughter in Kentucky) and told her that she should get on the next flight to Utah to come say her goodbyes.

The hospice nurse had mentioned to us that in her experience, some people prefer to die alone. She had observed families that had a 24-hour vigil with someone always in the room with the one who was dying. Eventually, the person on vigil would  leave for just a few minutes. When they would return, their loved one had passed away.

Calli felt as though Mom would be one that would like to die alone. We agreed, and decided to leave her room for ten minutes.

I peeked in about six minutes later. The nurses were in the room, verifying that she had passed away.

It was 11:31 a.m. on Sunday August 24, 2014.

I waited for the nurses to leave, then walked over to the bed.  A room that ten minutes before, which had been warm and full of life, was now cold and sterile.

Lorna had passed.  She was now surrounded by generations of love. A welcome-home celebration had begun.

A way station is defined as “1 a stopping place on a journey, syn: stopover. 2. A small railway station between the principal stations or station where the train stops only on a signal. Syn: whistle stop, flag stop.”

I believe that a way station exists between our world and the next.

In a blessing to Katie from our stake president the day after Lorna passed away, she was told that it was her mother’s time to go. She could have chosen to stay, but it was her time.

I believe her decision was being made in that “way station” late Saturday night and into Sunday. I know it wasn’t an easy decision.

Lorna was in that way station when she told Calli to play the songs that were played for Katie on the way from the airport to hospital.

She was in the way station when Calli heard her mother say with a sense of urgency before Calli left the hospital that Sunday morning, “Don’t forget me. I can do things from here.”

She was in the “way station” when my neighbor Dale Palsson had the following experience.

When Dale shared this experience with me, he told me he had just finished the book he was reading, closed it and looked at his watch. It was around 11:30 a.m. the same time the nurses were confirming that Lorna had passed.

A week earlier, on August 17, Scott and I gave Lorna the blessing that she would be healed. It was a powerful unique experience for Scott and me. I knew I was the voice for Lorna’s dad, Dan Brashear.

Lorna’s Dad is on the other side of the veil,  and I knew he had insights into Lorna’s mortal journey. He knew things I didn’t know. We were told Lorna would be healed.

She wasn’t healed. She passed away one week later. I was a little perplexed.

On Monday, August 25, the day after Lorna passed away, our stake president Buzz Butler and his wife Lynn stopped by the house. Our daughter Katie answered the door. After visiting for a few minutes, President Butler asked if Katie would like a blessing. They stepped into the office at the house, and he gave her a blessing. Among other things, Katie was told that it was her mother’s time to go. She could have chosen to stay, but it was her time to go.

I believe, and it has been confirmed to me, that had Lorna chosen to stay, she would have been completely healed as she hand been promised in the blessing from her dad through me one week before. And, most importantly, she would have known who healed her.

Cancer was the medium that sent her home. No therapy chosen, traditional or alternative (for those curious, with what alternative remedies were used, she left no stone unturned), would have healed her. As mentioned in the blessing to Katie, it was her time to go.

I believe that the choice to go or stay is not uncommon. I have three friends, one who suffered a heart attack, another, a bike/car accident. The third, had a serious health issue. All were given the choice. All chose to stay.

A few months after Lorna passed away, I wondered if the choice to go was a difficult one for her.

Shortly after, I woke up with lyrics and a tune in my mind: “We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.” I was hearing it over and over.

I recognized the lyrics and the tune but didn’t know much about the song, who sang it, or what it was about. I looked it up on the Internet.

Elder Donald L Hallstrom of the Seventy, during the October 2017 general conference, gave a talk titled, “Has the Day of Miracles Ceased.” He relates the experiences of a man who had a serious climbing accident. He spoke of all the coincidences that related to the rescue and treatment, and the miracle that the man didn’t die from his injuries.

He then shares:

Fast Sunday, June of 2015, ten months after Lorna passed away,  Cindi Lindeman, a sister in our ward, was bearing her testimony. She had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She said the family were praying for a miracle.

As she said “we’re praying for a miracle,” I heard in my mind; The miracle for our family was that I died.

President Russell M. Nelson’s daughter Wendy Nelson Maxfield passed away on January 11, 2019 at the age of 67.

At her funeral service, to her children and grandchildren, President Nelson said:

Because Lorna had asked us not to tell people about her illness, comparatively few people knew. Her brother and sisters didn’t know until the night before she passed away.

When it was announced in our ward sacrament meeting that Lorna Jenkins had passed away that morning, I was told there was an audible gasp from the congregation. Then the tears started flowing. Consequently, starting after church and for the rest of the week, a steady flow of friends and neighbors stopped by the house to offer their condolences and asking the “what, how and when” questions.

Monday evening the day after Lorna passed away, I was visiting with some neighbors when our doorbell rang. Katie answered the door. It was our stake president, Blaine Butler, with his wife, Lynn.

They visited for a few minutes, then President Butler asked Katie if she would like a blessing.

Katie wrote in her journal:

In September, a few weeks after Lorna passed away, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling very warm. I threw the covers off, yet still really felt warm.

I recalled Katie’s experience the night President Butler gave her the blessing. I tentatively asked her, “Are you here?” The warmth intensified. Lorna was there.

A similar experience for Scott two years later in October, 2016:

In May 2018 my son Joel had his own parenting experience that was once again prompted by his sister Calli.

In a blessing from President Butler, our son Kurt was told: “Your mother’s ability to bless her family is now uninhibited.”

Scott, in a dream, about a year after she passed, is giving his mom a big hug and holding tight so she can’t leave. She pulls her head back, looks him in the eyes, and says, “Scott, it’s my job to take care of the family.”

I’ve assumed that he would have been “my ears,”  if I hadn’t learned to hear her.

Calli, on the one year anniversary of her mother’s passing:

Calli, two years later, August 24, 2016:

In a First Presidency message, he added

Lorna passed away on August 24, 2014, but she didn’t leave.

She didn’t leave me.  She didn’t leave her children.  She didn’t leave her grandchildren.  She didn’t leave her friends.  She didn’t  leave.

Evidence and experience have taught us that Lorna can do things from there. She is “solicitous for our welfare,” she “loves us now more than ever.” Her ability to bless her family is uninhibited. It is her job “to take care of her family.” “Her desire for our well being is greater than that which we feel ourselves”. She has blessed her family in many ways and many instances. It has been remarkable.

We chose to “stay tuned”,  as President Nelson counseled his family at his daughters funeral.

The miracle for our family, the unexpected miracle.  She wasn’t healed.

Monday, August 25, we started making arrangements for the funeral, which was to be held on Saturday August 30, 2014.

While I was at the mortuary, the family was at the cemetery. Scott had gone to the Alpine City Cemetery sexton’s office to get a map of available gravesites. The only sites on the map he was given were in a newer section of the cemetery. When I arrived, the family was pretty discouraged with what was available. Scott mentioned that the previous sexton had retired two months ago and that it was the new sexton’s first day on the job. The person who had been handling cemetery matters since the sexton had retired was not in the office that morning. We decided to check on Tuesday to see if other plots were available.

Lorna would park at the military monuments, then head north past a secluded peaceful section of the cemetery. She is buried there, in that peaceful, secluded section located in the very northeast corner of the Alpine City Cemetery.

Who was the other person in the sexton’s office that day? Analisa Beck, the sexton of twenty years, who had retired two months earlier. She was on her way to Lake Powell for Labor Day weekend and just happened to stop in to see if the new sexton had any questions. The map she gave Katie—which the new sexton knew nothing about—was of cemetery plot buybacks, plots sold back to the city by patrons who owned them but they were never going to use them.

From a very good friend who has asked that his name not be used because his experience is so personally sacred.

Traci Jensen

My mother, Marlene Wilkenson Neilson, passed away January 18, 2022.

My dad, brothers, sisters and I looked through many photos to find one that we could use for her obituary and the funeral program.  My dad really liked one photo.  We chose it for the obituary and the program.

We sent it to the photographer, to be cropped so we could use it.

One of my sisters knows the photographer.  She received the following text from him: “So, here’s what happened.  As I went to touch up the photo you sent me of your mother, I heard her distinct voice whisper in my ear. “I know you have a better one of me, Scott, so let’s find one.”  I opened up your family portrait folders, searched through them, and found your mom and dad’s 50th Wedding Anniversary photo that I had taken.  Then the recollection came back to me that your mom was very peculiar about the touch-ups I made to her and her hair.  That being said, I proceeded to photoshop your dad out of the picture and cropped it to the one I’m sending back for you to view.  Now, if you don’t believe that your mom had anything to do with this, she told me to tell you; ‘If they don’t use this picture for my obituary, I’m going to haunt them”  Sorry, I’m just the delivery boy.’

When my sister read us the text, we were not quite convinced.  We thought that maybe the photographer was overstepping his bounds.  One of my brothers especially didn’t believe the photographer when he said he had “gotten that message from Mom”

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, he’s asking, “Who sent this picture of mom to me?”  He said it was literally eerie how the photo Mom wanted used popped up on his computer screen.

A short time later, as we were still making funeral plans, I remembered a children’s  book Mom had bought at Deseret Book about death, that she wanted read to her grandchildren . I went to get it and gave it to my brother.  When he opened it, there was that picture again!  She was letting her will be known.  We all just looked at each other; there was no denying it.

We all went together to the mortuary to do Mom’s hair and makeup. One of my brothers even applied some eyeshadow, and she looked beautiful.  We could feel that she was pleased.

Side note:  [Traci]  My mom had been with her dad, and then her mom, when they passed away. She told me stories of how in their final days and hours they would see family members and loved ones who had passed away.  Because of her sharing those things with me, I was not surprised when she started to have the same experiences.

My mom looked at the closet and said; “Hi, you cutie!”   She told me, “My daddy held my fingers,” and most fun of all, “Come here, Daisy!”  You can’t tell me that dogs don’t go to heaven.

Lorna’s funeral was held in the Alpine West Stake Center on Saturday, August 30, 2014.

Michael Gillespie (bishop of the Alpine Third Ward) and I can tell you that Lorna was involved in the planning of her funeral service. The music, the order of the speakers, the scripture printed on her program, her fingerprints–all were on it.

Lorna was particular as to the hymns and other songs that were to be sung.

Opening Hymn

“Our Saviors Love”

Musical Number, Grandchildren

“I Feel My Saviors Love”

Musical Number, Friends

“Oh Lord, My Redeemer”

Closing Hymn

“I Know that My Redeemer Lives”

As the closing song began, Ken Cordner of the Alpine West Stake presidency leaned over to me and said, “Perfect.”

On June 9, 2013, The Alpine West Stake was convened for a stake conference–a special stake conference. President Conrad Gottfredson was going to be released, and a new stake president was going to be sustained. At 10:30 that Sunday morning, shortly after Blaine Butler was sustained as our new stake president, Lorna wrote the following in the Notes app on her phone.

Katie found this note on her phone the day after the funeral. She wasn’t preparing a lesson or getting ready for a talk. It is what she felt and knew that Sunday morning in June, fourteen months before she passed away.

She used the lyrics of the hymns sung at her funeral to bear her witness of the Savior, and what she had already experienced, in a clear and unmistakable way.

The other musical number was “Homeward Bound”, sung by Jason Baumgartner. Lorna had accompanied Jason in several musical numbers throughout the years. The lyrics are as follows:

The message from the lyrics of “Homeward Bound” were clear: “Don’t bind me to the pasture, don’t chain me to the plow, set me free to find my calling. I’ll return to you somehow.”

After the funeral, Holly Toolson, who sang in the quartet, sent me a note. Lorna and Holly had sung duets together in church services.

And so do Fathers.

In September of 2014, a few weeks after Lorna passed away, I was attending a regional conference being broadcast to our stake center. Elder Russell M. Nelson was presiding. As his wife Wendy Nelson was speaking, I heard a baby cry. My thought was “if there were one hundred babies in a room and their mothers were in a different room doing something that required their attentiveness, the mother whose baby cried would hear that cry. The other ninety nine probably would not.”

I believe that love is unconditional and without judgment. They understand the game we are playing, that our opponents are a fallen nature, and a fallen angel.

In “The Family. A Proclamation to the World”: Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children.

The passing of a mother or father does not abdicate their responsibility “to love and care…” The most important people in their lives are their families. “They are solicitous for our welfare, they love us now more than ever.”  The word solicitous means full of anxiety and concern, showing hovering attentiveness.

A few weeks after Lorna’s funeral, while driving on the freeway, Calli noticed a billboard.  It depicted a middle-aged woman walking with her mother. Her mother was using a cane and a little bent over.  The billboard was advertising an assisted-living center.  Calli heard her mother say: “You’er welcome.”  Calli laughed out loud.

Fourteen months after Lorna passed away, three new grandchildren joined the family within a month of each other. Joel and his wife Alicia, a little girl named Elle. Calli and Tyson: a little boy Malcolm (who goes by Mozzie). Katie and Clint: a little girl named Mazzie.

I have a very good friend who was called to serve as a bishop, shortly after he moved into his new ward. Three years before he moved in, the husband and father of a family in the ward (that I will call the “Smiths”) had passed away. He was 49 years old. There were 9 children in the family, five boys, four girls, from age 23 down to 5 or 6. As their bishop (and close neighbor), my friend was called upon to give blessings and assist in ordinations for the Smith family.

The first time he was called upon, as he put his hands on the head of the child receiving the blessing, he felt hands placed on top of his hands. He knew it was Brother Smith.

He had that experience each time he gave a blessing to a member of the Smith family, except once. He waited but never felt hands on top of his, so he proceeded with giving the blessing.

A few days later, he received word from a mission president in South America, where one of the Smith sons was serving as a missionary. Elder Smith was having difficulties adjusting to missionary service. My friend then knew why he hadn’t felt Brother Smith’s hands on his. Brother Smith was needed in South America.

When a Smith family member was participating in sacrament meeting, giving a talk, taking part in a Primary program, whatever the occasion, My friend would look over the congregation and know exactly where Brother Smith was sitting.

I became acquainted with George Durrant a number of years ago. He has extensive Church education experience: President of the MTC, mission president a couple of times, institute director at UVSC, professor at BYU, and author of a number of books. He is doctrinally sound.

When greeting him,“How are you doing today?” he would often say “It’s my best day.”  After his wife passed away, he would say, “It’s my best day,…because of what I know.”

Sometimes on greeting him he would ask, “What do you know?” or What have you learned, new? On one occasion,  Don Coplin, a good friend and I, saw Brother George.  He asked us, “What do you know.”  Don answered, “The second estate is birth to resurrection, not birth to death.” George replied emphatically. “Thats exactly right!!! And it’s too bad the Latter-day Saints don’t understand that!”

On this side of the veil we reconcile ourselves to God through having faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, repenting of our sins, then striving to keep the commandments. On the other side of the veil we reconcile ourselves to God through having faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, repenting of our sins, then striving to keep the commandments.

That reconciliation opportunity does not terminate at death, it terminates at the resurrection.

In December of 2016, I received a phone call from Sheila Calder. She and her husband, Cameron are friends in the ward. She told me she had been to lunch that day with some ladies from the ward. During lunch, Lorna’s name came up in the conversation.

Connie Larson, who had moved from the ward, was at the luncheon. She asked those at the table if they knew if I was dating? No one at the lunch knew whether I was or wasn’t. She told them that there was a widow in her new ward, whom she felt I should meet. Then she explained why she felt that way. Then said she was hesitant to call me. Sheila said, “I’ll call him. What’s her name and number?”

Sheila called and asked if I was dating. I answered no. She told me about the lunch she attended that day. She told me about Connie’s feeling that I should meet a widow in her ward. I told Sheila I appreciated the call and the inquiry, but I was not interested in dating yet.  She insisted I call and sent me Connie’s number.

I had no intention of calling.

However, for the next few days, I’m “troubled.” I’m feeling I should call, but I don’t want to. The feeling won’t go away. I decide to at least make the call.

I call Connie and ask her about the widow she feels I should meet.

During the previous summer  (it’s now December), Connie was jogging in a local park. She jogged by a bench that Brenda, the widow from her ward, was sitting on.  Connie hears someone say: “Introduce Brenda to Craig Jenkins.”

That afternoon, Connie and her husband, Mike, ran into me at Costco (I remembered that meeting at Costco).  She hears again, “Introduce Brenda to Craig.”  Connie told me that every time she sees Brenda, she hears the same thing, “Introduce Brenda to Craig.”

When Connie was telling her experience to those at the lunch, Brenda walked into the restaurant.

I’m not a big believer in coincidences anymore.

I called Brenda.  She had been a widow for a few years. She told me that when her husband died, good riddance. She never wanted to see him again, and certainly didn’t want to be sealed to him. She said he had done “some things.” I didn’t ask what those things were.

She then told me that she had come to believe from her personal impressions that you can repent on the other side of the veil. But, she had been unable to find any statements from the brethren to corroborate what she was believing.  She had even attended a fireside on Life after Life, where the presenter was unable to give her a definitive answer.

I told her yes, of  course you can repent on the other side of the veil. The second estate, the time to prepare to meet God, is birth to resurrection, not birth to death. I have statements by Elder Packer, Elder Maxwell, Elder Oaks, Eldred G. Smith, (Church Patriarch from 1947-1979), Alma, Section 138 of the Doctrine and Covenants, and others. I’ll email them to you.

A short time later I received this email back from her.

Brenda and I never met.  Just a phone call and an email. However, I do feel a connection to Brenda, and her husband, who loves her.

Brenda’s husband had repented. He was then authorized to speak the words to Brenda’s mind that you can repent on the other side of the veil, and that he had repented.

Brenda had believed what most Latter-day Saints believe. If you are a Church member and you die in your sins, you had your one chance. No Celestial Kingdom for you.

For Brenda, that belief was being challenged by her personal revelation, that her husband, who had been active, endowed, sealed in the Temple, but had done some things, who hadn’t repented before he died, wasn’t lost. He could repent of those things’ in the spirit world.

She wanted to believe the impressions she was feeling, but needed a second witness to confirm what was being revealed to her.

Council meetings are held on the other side of the veil, Church and family. In a council meeting her husband addresses her need for an additional witness to confirm to her what she was now believing. A statement from a credible source.

Don’t ask me how, but in some way he finds out that I have quotes that will confirm the impressions that Brenda has been receiving.

How to get them to Brenda? Again, in some way, he becomes aware that Connie is a link; she knows both of us. It was not a coincidence that Brenda was sitting on a bench in Lambert Park when Connie jogged by, or she ran into me at Costco later in the day, or that every time she saw Brenda she would hear the same thing: introduce Brenda to Craig.

Because of Connie’s reticence (completely understandable) to call me, after a few months Brenda’s husband makes arrangements for ladies from the ward and Connie to meet for lunch (because “they can do things from there”).

Lorna’s name comes up at lunch, my name comes up, Connie shares her story. Sheila calls me: I’m not going to call, but I’m troubled by Brenda’s husband (always authorized)  to make the call. I call, and Brenda gets the quotes she needs to confirm what had been revealed to her. She knows her husband has repented and loves her.

Larry James, a fellow ordinance worker at the Timpanogos Temple shared his experience with me.

My brother Steve, five  years younger than me, died in 2008 at the age of 55. He was an alcoholic. He was active in the  Church into his teens.  From then until the end of his life he saw no purpose or value in having anything to do with the Church. He was no longer a believer.

The last 40 years of his life he was in a Church building twice, for grandparents funerals. I’m pretty sure he never killed anybody, but probably was guilty of most of the rest of the “thou shalt nots.”

I was asked to speak at his funeral. I shared the statements that the second estate is from birth to resurrection. I said Steve had probably already met with his new bishop. Bishops are judges in Israel. They help people repent. They outline the course one needs to follow to repent and become worthy of temple Ordinances. Steve’s course of action was laid out for him. He would not only have Priesthood leaders to help him, but family and friends who had an interest in his eternal welfare. I planned on doing his temple work when he had been dead a year.

When you pass through the veil and you are surrounded by generations of love, even the hardest heart will be softened.

Shortly after his funeral, I was visiting with my parents. My remarks at his funeral came up in the conversation. My dad wanted to know why I was the only person in the whole Church that knew someone like Steve had a chance to repent in the spirit world. He refused to believe it. Steve had his chance and failed.

A few months later, again while visiting my parents, my Dad told me he had had a dream. In his dream he was helping Steve while I did his temple work. I asked him what he thought that meant. He said, “I think it means I will be dead.” When I asked him if that bothered him, he said no. Then I asked him if he usually remembered his dreams, and he answered no.

Because of his dream, Dad now believed that Steve could repent in the spirit world.

I had December 8 circled on the calendar, the one year anniversary of Steve’s passing. As that day approached I didn’t feel any urgency to take the necessary steps to get his work done. It was as though someone had called “time out.”

On Christmas Eve, 2009, we held our traditional Jenkins family Christmas dinner. The next day, Christmas Day, my dad had to be taken to the hospital. He died about six weeks later.

While preparing for Dad’s funeral, I had the strongest impression that Steve had a hand in Dad’s attendance at the family Christmas Eve celebration. Steve wasn’t the most pleasant person when he was drinking. His wife had left him. He had alienated both his sisters,  and a brother, and had a poor relationship with Mom and Dad.

I felt as though Dad being with us at Christmas was a gift to the family from Steve. It may even have been part of his repentance process.

The Christmas following my dad’s passing, as we gathered as usual on Christmas Eve, the first without Dad. But there was someone missing, It was a bittersweet evening.

It confirmed the feeling I had had eleven months earlier while preparing to speak at Dad’s funeral.

The day after Dad’s funeral, I felt an urgency to get Steve’s temple ordinance paperwork completed so I could get his work done. The next morning I was being “prompted,” even before the temple was open for patrons, to get it done. I was at the Mount Timpanogos Temple at 5:30 a.m. when the doors opened. His temple endowment was completed that morning.

I believe that once a person believes, repents and qualifies for temple ordinances to be performed vicariously for them on this side of the veil, when that work is done, and they have accepted the work done for them, consummating ordinances are then performed on the other side of the veil, effectualizing those saving ordinances of the gospel vicariously performed here.

I believe Dad officiated in those consummating ordinances for Steve, just as he had seen in his dream ten months earlier.

In May of 2020, Kurt was receiving a blessing from his stake president, who told him during the blessing that “Your uncle, who has repented, will be assisting you at this time.” He immediately thought of his Uncle Steve. His comment after the blessing was, “I guess golfers stick together.” Steve loved to play golf, as does Kurt.”

Rudger Clawson, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve (October 1898 to June 1943) who served as President of the Quorum from March 17, 1921 to June 21 1943, commented:

When baptisms for the dead are performed, those persons for whom the baptism was performed are then confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Before initiatory ordinances are performed for men, The Melchizedek Priesthood is conferred upon them and they are ordained to the office of elder in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

The mission of the Church is to proclaim the gospel, perfect the Saints, take care of the poor and needy, and redeem the dead. Council meetings are held on this side of the veil to facilitate the work of the Church here. Callings are given and assignments made.

President Wilford Woodruff, on (Church) council meetings held on the other side of the veil:

Family council meetings are also held on the other side of the veil to facilitate the work of families on both sides of the veil.

I believe family organizations are presided over by a presidency similar to that of a temple. A temple is presided over by a husband and wife as president and matron. Two counselors and matrons also assist. They serve for a time, are released, and others are called.

The family presidency presides over the work of the family. Needs are discussed, callings are given, assignments are made. Unitedly they oversee the work of the family on both sides of the veil. They serve for a time, are released, and others are called.

It was in one of those family council meeting that Kurt’s Uncle Steve was assigned to assist him during a trying time in Kurt’s life (golfers stick together).

The Church on the other side of the veil, and family organizations on the other side of the veil, work hand in hand, for the blessing and benefit of all mankind on both sides of the veil.

Tom Heal was in the Scout troop from Provo, Utah, that was involved in a tragic accident on the way to Hole in the Rock in 1963. Thirteen people died in the accident.

Thirty years later, Tom and another survivor of the accident, Lee Colvin, raised money to build a monument to those who had died in the accident. They built the monument on the hairpin turn where the accident happened.

Tom and Sandy Heal, with family and friends, were camping about 40 miles from Escalante, Utah on the road to Hole in the Rock, as they worked on the monument.

There are many books written about the spirit world, and I have read my share. By far the best I have ever read is The Message, by Lance Richardson.

My personal experiences since Lorna passed away have confirmed to me that The Message is spot on as he explains how loved ones who have passed away are given assignments and minister to us.

Lance was injured in an accident and spent some time on the other side of the veil. His cousin Randy, who had died twenty years previous tells him:

Lance, on meeting his Grandpa Mark Richardson:

When Lance was on the other side of the veil he saw sections of buildings lined up on streets.

Lorna went to BYU during the 1970-1971 school year.

She met and dated a young man toward the end of her freshman year. They became serious, but he was going on a mission. He didn’t want her at BYU while he was gone. Respecting his wishes, she didn’t register for the fall semester of 1971. Instead, she stayed home in Pasco, Washington. As it turned out, he served just a few months before returning home. Lorna never heard from him again.

She returned to BYU and enrolled in classes for Winter 1972. She attended for a short period of time, but the school experience wasn’t the same. She withdrew and returned to Pasco. She found a job and started working.

In the spring of 1972, she met a young man named Tom. Magic happened.

Tom was not a member of the Church. He agreed to have the missionary discussions. Lorna pleaded with the missionaries not to bring up his being baptized during the first discussion, knowing if they did, Tom wouldn’t continue investigating the Church.

In those years, it was policy to discuss an investigator’s baptism during the first discussion, then set a date for that person’s baptism.

Tom met with the missionaries. During the discussion they suggested a baptismal date for him. As Lorna feared, Tom was through meeting with the missionaries and investigating the Church. Lorna was heart-broken.

Tom was moving at the end of summer to Arizona to go to school. He wanted Lorna to come with him, and they could live together.

She was brought face-to-face with one of her life’s defining moments. Moving and living with Tom in Arizona, or staying true to what she had been taught and believed her whole life. She broke up with him. Years later I found out she cried everyday for three months after breaking up with him.

Lorna had a sister, Penny, and her husband, Russ, living in Seattle. She left Pasco and moved to Seattle in September of 1972. She started working for an accounting firm and attended the singles ward at the University of Washington.

Meeting in Seattle

In September of 1972 I (Craig Jenkins) decided to withdraw from my classes at the University of Utah and spend a few months in Seattle, Washington.

I served a mission in the Pacific Northwest from August 1967 to August 1969, spending about eighteen months in the greater Seattle area. I made arrangements to live with a family in Seattle I had become close to as a missionary.

The only singles ward in Seattle at the time met at the Church Institute building at the University of Washington. It was one of the areas I served in toward the end of my mission.

I arrived a few minutes late for church. I stood in the back looking over the congregation to see if I recognized anyone from my time there as a missionary. As I was looking, I noticed a young woman sitting on the second row, second seat in. In my mind I heard, “She’s the reason you came to Seattle.” The young woman was Lorna.

There were a few students in the ward I had known when I was a missionary. One was Carl Bell, now in medical school. He wanted to double-date. I told him that I didn’t know anyone well enough to ask. He asked if there was someone I would like to get to know, and if so, he would set it up. I had seen him talking to Lorna, so I pointed her out and said I would like to meet her. He set Lorna and me up.

Our first date was October 27, 1972. For Lorna, it was a blind date. For me, I knew who I would be picking up.

She told me later that when we met for the first time, there was something “familiar” about me.

We were married in the Salt Lake Temple February 2, 1973, a little over three months later.

The Little Soul and the Sun,  a children’s book by Neale Donald Walsch, Hampton Roads, 1998

The story is about two little souls. One of the little souls wants the experience of learning to forgive. The problem is that all the little souls in the kingdom are perfect. So in order for this little soul to learn to forgive, another little soul has to be willing to become something they are not, in order to do something terrible to the little soul who wants to learn to forgive.

One of the perfect little souls steps forward and offers to become someone he is not, in order to do something terrible to the little soul who wants to learn to forgive.

The little soul asks the other little soul why he was willing to do that for him. His reply, “Because I love you.”

An agreement is made between the two. The perfect little soul will become someone he is not, in order to do something terrible to the other little soul. The other little soul will experience something terrible so he can learn how to forgive.

The only request from the Little Soul who is going to do something terrible is that the Little Soul who wants to learn to forgive will not forget who the other Little Soul really is.

As the Little Soul, wanting to learn to forgive, is leaving heaven, God reminds him, “Remember, I only send Angels.”

The pattern for this principle was set in that grand council in Heaven.  “And the Lord said:  Whom shall I send? . . .  And another answered and said: Here am I, send me.”

The principle of the story: In that time before time, when we sat with heavenly parents and others, to choose experiences that would help us become more like our heavenly parents, so we wouldn’t be alone.

For some of those experiences we would need a little soul or two, as it were, willing to play a role in our lives. That little soul could be a spouse, a child, a sibling, a relative or a person with no known connection. An illness, a disability, an accident. Any one of a number of things or ways in order to give us the experience we desired. Angels come in many forms. There are no villains, only heros.

Apostles and prophets from our dispensation have verified the principle discussed in the book.

Elder Orson Hyde—one of the original members of the Quorum of Twelve in this dispensation who and served as president of the Quorum of the Twelve for 27 years—said of life in the premortal world:

It was not a coincidence that Lorna and I ended up in Seattle in the fall of 1972. It was not a coincidence that we met and married quickly.

When Lorna and I returned to Seattle from Salt Lake City after getting married, Lorna’s sister Penny told her that Tom had called while we were in Salt Lake. Lorna told me twenty-five years later about the phone call and that her initial reaction was, “I’ve made a mistake.”

If we hadn’t met and married in that three-month window of time, we probably never would have married. Had she received that call before we were married, I’m sure Tom would have told her he was willing to take the discussions and join the Church. She would have broken it off with me and married Tom.

Tom called about four years later. We had two little boys at the time. I answered the phone, it was a man’s voice, he asked to talk with Lorna. I knew it was Tom.

After hanging up, Lorna told me it was Tom. I didn’t have to ask. He wanted to know how she was doing, how things were going. He was letting her know he was there if…

Lorna had told me about Tom. How they met, the magic she felt, his experience with the missionaries, his desire to have her move with him to Arizona. Her decision to break up with him.

You can’t make magic happen. It just happens. It never goes away, it fades with time, but the memory of that magic, that person, is always there.

Fortunately, I understood a little bit about magic. My magic was Kayleen, also from the summer of 1972.

Looking back forty years, I believe that Tom and Kayleen were some of the angels that would play their part in our lives.

While we lived in Dallas, Texas, I had the opportunity to serve as a bishop. Shortly after a new family had moved into the ward, I received a letter from the head of the Temple Department for the Church.

The Father of the new family had written to the Brethren, requesting a cancellation of sealing from his previous wife.

My instructions in the letter were to inform him that a cancellation for him wasn’t necessary. Further, that “Temple sealings are merely promises of blessings to come, and no one will ever be forced to spend eternity with someone they don’t want to be with anyway.”

I passed that information on to him.

I believe that soon after someone passes away, if there was a relationship that needed to be mended, that process begins. I believe it happens on both sides of the veil.

When my brother Steve passed away, he had a few relationships that needed mending. The most pressing was how he had treated his wife Debbie the last few years of his life. It became so intolerable for her that she moved to Arizona to be near her mother.

When moving everything out of their house a few days after Steve died, and before the funeral (the house had been sold and the move was already in process), Debbie and my sister Vickie were boxing up the last closet.

Debbie went out to start her rental car. It was the middle of December, early in the evening, cold and dark, with a light snow falling.

Her car wouldn’t start. Out of the darkness she sees someone approaching the car. The person stops and taps on the window and asks if everything is okay. Debbie says her car won’t start. He asks her if she has pumped the gas pedal before turning the key. She said she has. He tells her to wait a minute, then try starting it again, but not to pump the pedal. She waits, doing as instructed, the car start’ed.

When she went in the house she told Vickie what had happened, and said; “I think it was Steve.”  The person had on a hooded sweatshirt (similar to what Steve would wear), was carrying in his hand a can of Budweiser (his beer of choice), and spoke in the same manner as Steve did. He appeared out of nowhere and was gone as quickly as he came.

I believe it was Steve. He was starting that mending process with his wife Debbie.

From a friend Julio Gonzalez.

Lorna passed away on Sunday, August 24. On Tuesday the 26th I woke up thinking I needed to find her wedding ring.

Katie came into the bedroom as I was looking and asked what I was looking for. I told her I was looking for her mother’s ring. For some reason I woke up with the feeling that I needed to find it.

Katie told me the reason I thought about the ring was because Mom wanted to be married to me now, more than she ever had before.

In preparation for her funeral service, which was to be held on Saturday August 30th, I went to the Timpanogos Temple on Thursday morning, the 28th. As the events of the creation were being reviewed, when Eve is introduced to Adam, Adam is asked what he is going to call her. He replies, “Eve, for she is the mother of all living.” Eve then gives Adam a subtle look of adoration, because she knew, he knew, who she was.

When that introduction took place, I felt something. I knew Lorna knew who I was, and more importantly, who we were, during that time before time when we dwelt with heavenly parents. It was a sweet experience.

When we moved into our home on Matterhorn Drive, Lorna found out from a friend, Kit Lund, that you could go to the Unitah Mountains above Kamas, and get landscape rocks for your yard.

For the next five or six years I made regular summer trips to the Unitahs getting landscape rocks for our yard.

And consequently, for Lorna’s headstone, which would be a rock from the Unitahs.

With three friends, we went to the Unitahs. We found the perfect headstone.

When I dropped the rock off at the monument place where the stone would be engraved, they asked me what I wanted on the stone.

Just the usual, names and dates. I gave them our dates, and the date Lorna passed away. Then for our marriage date, I said, “Sealed February 2, 1973.”

The person helping told me that typically, you don’t put “sealed” on a headstone if you weren’t civilly married first. When a couple is civilly married, then sealed later, you put on the headstone a married date and date the couple was sealed in the temple. If married in the temple first, “married” is put on the headstone, not “sealed.”

Okay, just put married February 2, 1973.

For a few days afterwards, just having the word “married”on the headstone troubled me. Married? Married where? On a cruise ship, by a justice of the peace, or in a little chapel in Las Vegas?

As I was waking up a few mornings later, I knew what Lorna wanted engraved on our headstone.

Joined Forever in the Holy Order of Matrimony
2 February 1973

Despite the desire to find her wedding ring, the feeling in the temple when Eve was introduced to Adam, and “Joined Forever…,” on the headstone, even with those evidences, because of the feelings Lorna had for Tom before we met, I found myself wondering if Lorna would choose me. It was a persistent, troubling thought.

Six or seven weeks after Lorna passed away, two or three mornings in a row I woke up with lyrics from a song going over and over in my mind, “Have I told you lately that I love you, have I told you that I care?”

I googled the song and found that the lyrics were different than I was singing in my mind. I was saying, “Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you that I care?” The correct lyrics are

Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you
There’s no one above you

…there’s a love that’s divine
And it’s yours and it’s mine…

In early November, I was in the Timpanogos Temple doing sealings. At one point between assignments at the altar, I heard Lorna say over and over, “I choose you, I choose you.”

Lorna’s headstone was placed at the Alpine Cemetery in early November, 2014. Calli went to the cemetery to see it. Her mother had always counseled her to marry her best friend. While at the gravesite, Calli asked her mother, “Is Dad your best friend?” She heard her mother say. “You have no idea.”

During our married life, if we had an argument it usually ended when she would say, “Get over it!”

I hate to admit this, but in early December I’m raking leaves in the backyard. Despite the evidence I had received, I’m fretting over Tom again.

I hear Lorna say. Get over it!

I don’t fret over Tom anymore.

In late November 2014, Calli took part in a meditation retreat in Oregon. She felt her mother often during the retreat.

When she returned from Oregon, she called and told me we needed to talk. She had something to tell me and was quite urgent about it.

She came to the house and told me that I had played my role perfectly in Mom’s life, and I needed to read the book, The Little Soul and the Sun.”  I have come to know that Lorna played her role in my life perfectly as well.  No villains, just heros.

Tom Heal served in a branch presidency at the Jamestown Assisted Living Center in Provo, Utah.  From his journal, he shares the following experience:

Fathers day June 18, 2013.  I received this note from Calli: “You are so loved at my house.  My kids talk about how much they love you, how funny they think you are, truly all the time. I am so grateful we get to live so close to you, that you are around and always willing to help.

I’m so thankful for the way you love and support me.  I’m beyond grateful for your relationship with heaven, how real it is to you.

As I’m typing this Mom just showed up. The feeling is that you have some regrets about the father you were when we were little. I just keep hearing her say over and over again, “All is forgiven.”  Once again, you played the role you were always meant to play. You did it perfectly. She loves you, she’s so proud of you. She’s so happy about how everything turned out. She doesn’t want you to ever worry about anything. Everyone and everything is always taken care of.  Always. In a way we can’t comprehend .

She is saying she has something she wants to teach you.  Ask her about it.  I think she will tell you in your dreams. She misses you. I can feel her not wanting me to stop. She would like you to think about her more, and talk with her more. Think of her as one of your best friends.”

Obviously a sweet note to receive on fathers day.

I did ask Lorna what she wanted to teach me. Soon after, I was drawn to a tune I heard in a store.  It was vaguely familiar. I picked up on a few words from the song and was able to fine it on the internet.  “All I have,” by Beth Nielsen Chapman.

Something that has caused me anguish since Lorna passed away…regrets. The coulda, woulda, shoulda, oughta’s. They have diminished with time, but an occasional “trigger” can bring back a memory and the discomfort associated with it.

Calli mentioned in her note, that Lorna had something to teach me. She thought she would tell me in a dream.

I did have a dream.  In the dream, I’m approaching Lorna. I starting to apoligize.  She puts her index finger on my lips and slowly shakes her head.

First Impressions

I’ve learned to pay attention to my thoughts just as I’m waking up in the morning. Most of the time they are the normal–what, where’s and why’s of the coming day.

Occasionally, they are different. I’ve learned to hear and recognize the difference and who they are coming from. It’s been a blessing to me and our family.

Lorna is a master at using lyrics from songs to speak for her. You have read about some of them earlier in this book. The message conveyed is always clear and unmistakable.

Some of my sweetest love notes came from the lyrics of songs. Usually a phrase or two would have special meaning to me.

I didn’t pay attention to the music and songs of my generation. I never bought a record, so consequently didn’t need a record player. I only listened to a radio when I was driving. My station of choice was Klub 570 a.m. on the radio dial. Just music, no lyrics. The station would play three songs in a row. They called them “Klubs Magnificent Medley’s,” i.e. elevator music.

So consequently, as I would wake up with a tune and a few lyrics rolling around in my mind, I seldom knew the name of the song or who sung it. I would Google the phrase I was hearing and find the song and lyrics online.

“Have I told you lately” and “Seasons in the Sun” were the first two songs that I woke up hearing my mind.

The following songs were received over a period of nine months or so.

“I Will Always Love You,” Whitney Houston
“Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina,” Madonna

I woke up to the Madonna song twice. The first time I couldn’t make a connection for Lorna and me. The second time, a few months later, it clicked.

It was a song about Lorna’s life.

In August of 2015, as I was walking through the house to the garage, I said, “Hey Hon, I love you, I hope that puts a smile on your face.”

A few mornings later, August 18, 2015, I woke up with “I love how you love me,” by Bobby Vinton in my mind.

Other songs over the next three years: Again using lyrics to speak for her.

“Hello Again,” Neil Diamond

“Could I have this Dance,” Anne Murray

“I Couldn’t live without your Love,” Petula Clark

“Never My Love,”  The Association

These last two songs were serendipitous. Walking through a store, I heard a song that intrigued me. I didn’t recall ever having heard it before, I did pick up a few of the lyrics, so I googled the lyrics.

Valentine’s Day, 2018, another song I had no recollection of ever hearing.

I made a list on my phone of the songs I woke up to. I listened to them often. Occasionally, the feeling I had when I heard them for the first time, I would feel again. Listening to the songs kept her alive and present for me.

Spring of 2018 I picked up the book by Lance Richardson,  The Message, and started to thumb through it. I stopped at Chapter 8.

As I read the experience of that couple, I was given a brief glimpse of a reunion still to take place. It will be very sweet.

Fingerprints are what I call the evidence of a loved one’s assistance in times of trouble…or not.

Before leaving the hospital the morning her mother passed away, Calli heard her mother tell her to not start the journey of forgetting her, “I can do things from here.”

In the blessing to Kurt, “Your mother’s ability to bless her family is now uninhibited.”

In November 2016, Calli and Ty and family planned a trip to DisneyLand. They bought their tickets three months in advance and had them mailed to the house: Tyson wanted that to be part of the experience for the family.

The day before they are leaving, Calli couldn’t find the tickets–fifteen hundred dollars worth of tickets. The last time she remembered seeing them, they were on the kitchen table. Her fear was that she had accidentally thrown them away.

She called DisneyLand customer service and explained her plight. The response was “I’m sorry, Mrs Lewis, but we don’t reissue tickets under any circumstances, or for any reason.”

She called three times, but got the same response each time, even though she had her confirmation number verifying they had purchased the tickets.

Calli’s daughter Sydney is hearing what’s going on. She is starting to panic, thinking they won’t be able to go. Calli tells her to go say a prayer and then ask Grandma for some help.

When Tyson got home from work, Calli explained what had happened and the response from customer service.

Tyson called customer service. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lewis, we don’t reissue tickets for any reason, under any circumstances,…but if you can be here by 11:45 Sunday night, I will reissue yours.

Just as Lorna studied every aspect of the hospital when Katie was having her baby, I believe Lorna was at the customer service area of Disneyland. She is figuring out who can hear her. Once identified, that’s the person that answered the phone when Tyson called. Tyson was there by 11:45 Sunday night. The young lady who answered the phone did reissue their tickets.

Summer of 2018: The company Scott works for was invited to participate in a four-man scramble golf memorial tournament.

Our foursome consisted of Scott, Kurt, me and Jon Brown.

One of the par 3 holes was being sponsored by Opticare of Utah, which was  giving away a free Lasik surgery for the golfer who was closest to the pin off the tee: A complete surgery, pre-exam, surgery in both eyes, post exam. A $4500 gift. If you were closest to the hole, and didn’t need the Lasik, you could transfer it to someone else, you could sell it, or do whatever the winner wanted to do. No strings attached.

Scott, while talking with the Opticare employees mentioned that he wasn’t seeing as well as he used to, so it would be kind of neat to win it.

When Kurt was heading to the tee box, he overheard Scott talking to the Opticare representatives. On the tee box, he said to himself, “Hey, mom, “how about a little help with this swing”.

There were 120 golfers in the tournament. Kurt was closest to the pin: he won the Lasik surgery. He had a .08 percent chance of winning.

Kurt, who had lasik a number of years ago, had no need for another one, so he gave the Lasik to Scott. Scott had the pre-exam but he wasn’t a candidate. Scott’s wife Eliza, had the pre-exam,  but she wasn’t a candidate.

They found out their oldest daughter, Sicily, our granddaughter who was living and working in Southern California, had been saving money for Lasik surgery.

She was a perfect candidate for the surgery, which ended up costing her nothing.

In December, 2019, Katie, Clint and family went on a Caribbean Cruise. Their oldest Miles, age 11, likes to collect foreign coins. He got a Haitian coin on the cruise.

At the Miami Airport while going through security, they all had carry-on bags. Clint went first through the scanner, then each of the three kids Katie brought up the rear. She placed her bag on the conveyor belt to go through the x-ray machine, then stepped up to the scanner. She could see Clint and Miles looking for something on the floor. As she came through the scanner, she asked what they were looking for. Clint said he had dropped Miles Haitian coin on the floor. He saw it hit, but they hadn’t been able to find it. Katie took her bag off the belt after it came through the x-ray machine, stood it up, pulled the handle up and moved off to the side with the other bags.

Clint and Miles continued to look for the coin, Miles was starting to pout. Katie heard, “Wouldn’t it be fun if it’s found in an unusual place”. Titan, the eight year old, noticed something under the luggage tag on the top of Katie’s carry on. He lifts it up. It was the coin.

The House

Katie’s husband, Clint, graduated from University of Kentucky in July of 2018 when he finished his medical fellowship. They had accepted a job in Evansville, Indiana, 200 miles west of Lexington, beginning in August 2018.

Their original plan was to buy a house, so they made contact with a realtor in Evansville during the fall of 2017. They gave her the information on their price range, the location they preferred, and other pertinent information.

She set them up on an automatic email that would notify them anytime new homes were listed in the area.

In February of 2018 they decided they would rent the first year instead of buying. However, they still received the automatic notification of new homes listed.

In April, on a Thursday morning, Katie received the email with a new listing in Newburgh, the suburb of Evansville where they were interested in living. It intrigued her, so she forwarded it to Clint. He said it would be a house he would consider buying.

Katie called the realtor in Evansville, told her about the listing, asked her to check on it, and told her she was on her way to see the house and would be in Newburgh by 11:00 a.m.

When the realtor called back, she gave Katie some info on the house. There were two other people scheduled to see it, but Katie had the first appointment.

Katie was listening to the radio on the drive to Newburgh. As she exited the freeway to Newburgh, she realized she was singing along with a song on the radio.

Katie arrived in Newburgh, walked through the house, and it felt right.
They made an offer on Friday morning, and by Friday night they had bought a home.

The home was supposed to be listed on Tuesday, but a glitch had prevented that from happening. It was supposed to be listed on Wednesday but a glitch again prevented it from being listed. The first listing came out on Thursday morning.

Katie’s day was such that she could immediately leave for Newburgh to check out the house. She wouldn’t have been able to go on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Joel’s wife, Alicia,  was aware of the evidence of Lorna’s influence in the lives of her family. She was feeling a little neglected because she hadn’t been aware of any personal experiences with her mother-in-law.

As she was discussing that with a friend, the friend suggested she ask specifically for an evidence of Lorna’s “fingerprints” in her life, something important to her, which her mother-in-law could assist with.

Joel and Alicia had been looking for a house to buy. Finding the right house, right price, right neighborhood was one of the anxieties she was struggling with. It seemed to her as though they had been looking forever, with no luck.

Her friend suggested she write down everything she was looking for that she felt she needed in her home. This is what she wrote.

• 4 bedrooms
• 2 bathrooms
• Big kitchen
• Formal living room
• Large gathering area
• Quiet street
• 3 bedrooms on the same floor

Her friend told her that Lorna would help find those things in a house.

“Later that same day I (Alicia)  was looking for houses, and one came up with the exact specs I had written down during my visit with my friend. The next day, we went and looked at the house I had seen the day before. It was perfect, and is the house we were able to buy. I truly believe Lorna helped us find and buy it.”

Soon after Lorna passed away, my first conscious thought as I woke up one morning was “It’s not good for man to be alone.” My reaction was, “Where did that come from?” (I have talked with three other widowers who heard the same thing).

A few days later I mentioned to Calli what I had heard. Her reply: “Oh, before I left the hospital after Mom died, she told me that you would remarry because she wanted you to be as happy as she is. My reply: “If that’s true, I’m not looking.”

In October, 2014, I had been in Midway, Utah, playing golf with a mission friend, Steve Eddington. On the way down Provo Canyon I was thinking of what I had heard and what Calli had told me. I had the strongest impression that whoever this person was, I had known her forever, and loved her forever.

My conclusion was that in that time before time, when choices were being made as to our life’s experiences, I knew Lorna was going home before I was. And whoever this person was, whom I had known forever and loved forever, knew her husband was going home before she was. We were going to meet, marry, and spend the last ten or twenty years together while completing our life’s mission. We still had things to do individually and things to do as a couple. All four of us knew the plan.

In March 2016, Calli called and told me; “Mom wants you to have President Butler give you a blessing.”

March 8, 2016 President Butler gave me a blessing pertaining to this next phase in my life.

Calli was there and recorded the blessing.

After a short introduction, President Butler described a very specific person, right down to health and personality.

Among other things, he said, “For she is one who loves the Lord as much as you love the Lord. Who loves the temple as you love the temple, who loves her family as you love yours. Who understands and comprehends and appreciates the beauty of the Atonement and its redemptive and enabling power. She will be quite a helpmeet to you as you will be to her, and together you will have a very happy companionship for time. When death arrives to both, when the two of you have returned to your covenantal companions, your time together will become eternal memories of goodness and kindness. Rejoicing in friendship and love, you will be joined by her companion and yours, for there is no jealousy there.

Toward the end of the blessing he said, “I do feel impressed that Heavenly Father would have you be a little more proactive in seeking her. For it is not her nature, because of her demure and virtuous soul, to chase a man.”

The Dating Game

Because I was told that “she was not one to chase a man,” I assumed I wouldn’t meet her online or at singles activities.

A few months after Lorna passed away, I started receiving calls from friends asking if I was interested in meeting someone. I always appreciated the calls, but my usual reply was “Not yet.”  So, to be more proactive, as I was counseled, I decided that when someone called, I would at least call and or meet the person they wanted to introduce me to.

Over the next six months or so, I met some fine ladies. The easiest way for me was to meet them somewhere for lunch or dinner. One in particular I would have liked to get to know better. She fit the profile from the blessing. As I was saying my prayers that evening, I heard, “she’s not the one.” I stopped my prayer and said out loud, “Why not?” No answer.

After participating in the dating game for six months or so I was sitting in my truck in a restaurant parking lot. I had just met another fine lady that could easily have become a friend.  But not that kind of “friend.”

I had a heart-to-heart with Lorna. It went something like this: “Okay, you obviously know who the  right ‘One’ is. Dating isn’t anymore fun now than it was fifty years ago. I don’t want my heart nicked, nor do I want to nick someone’s heart. So when the time is right, let me know.” That was in August of 2016. A phone that had rung a couple of times a month for two years, never rang again.

In August of 2018, two years later, I made a phone call.

This call I made.

After Lorna passed away, it was obvious to our family that people were praying for us. We could feel it. I decided to be more dutiful in praying for others.

In July, 2018, while pausing in my evening prayer to think of anyone that I should pray for, Deborah Romney came to mind. Her husband Bob had passed away a year earlier in July of 2017.

When we moved to Alpine in 1988, Lorna and I met Bob and Deborah Romney. We were in the same ward. We became friends. Lorna and Deborah became good friends. Deborah taught our girls dance, and our girls would baby-sit the Romney’s little boy, Michael.

After having her name come into my mind and mentioning her in my prayers for about three weeks, I decided I should call to find out how she was doing.

On August 7, I called, and she told me that for various reasons, she was struggling. It had been just a little over a year since Bob had passed away.

We visited on the phone for forty-five minutes. During the call I told her about the book The Message, and suggested she get it and read it. I also told her about a blog that I was prompted to write in January of 2016, which shared some of our family’s experiences since Lorna passed away.

When I hung up the phone, she was as she was before I called–a friend of many years, Deborah Romney, Bob’s wife.

The next morning I received this text from her.

Dear Craig,
Please let this be a letter, not a text. I have to tell you, I have never been so touched as I have read your sentiments in your blog. Every word is absolutely beautiful. Also, Katie’s experience. I have always loved her and all of your children. I don’t know why I am feeling tears right now. I feel so blessed to have shared the tender moments you expressed. What is unbelievable is my experience in the hospital on Bob’s last day was almost identical to yours. Sometime I would like to share that with you. I had to struggle with these words: “Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.” We chose not to bind him to the pasture or chain him to the plow. We chose to set him free to find his calling, so he could return to us somehow.

I am so glad you were moved to call me and “share” your feelings. I have not stopped thinking about it. I am going out of town for a few days and plan to read The Message during that time. I’d like to share those impressions too. Love Deb

I texted back that I would love to hear about Bob’s last day and her impressions from the book. I asked her to text me when she returned home.

About a week later, she sent me a text letting me know she was back in town. We arranged to meet for lunch at the Blue Lemon Cafe in Highland, Utah.

Lunch was pleasant, just a couple of long-time friends visiting.

After lunch, Deborah asked if we could drive up American Fork Canyon. She wanted to find a picnic spot she had been to with Bob a short time before he passed away. We found the spot, then sat at the picnic table next to the river and visited for a bit.

When we got back to the cafe, as Deborah was getting out of the car, she sat back down in the seat. She said, “I told you I was going out of town. I had Marriott points I had to use or lose. I went to Las Vegas to a Donny and Marie concert. In addition, I wanted Marie to have the program from Bob’s memorial service. Bob had delivered one of Marie’s babies, and they had been friends ever since.”

Deborah told me she received a message from Lorna while she was out of town. At least she thought it was Lorna. I told her if that was her impression, it probably was Lorna. She quickly got out of the car and left.

A few hours later, I was thinking about what Deborah said about her getting a message from Lorna. I wondered why Lorna would be giving Deborah a message. It must have some meaning for Deborah. Maybe it has something to do with me. Maybe, it had something to do with Deborah and me. In order to satisfy my increasing curiosity, I needed to find out what message Lorna had given to Deborah.

At lunch we had talked about headstones. I told her about the rock we used for Lorna’s headstone. Deborah said she had a rock in her yard that might make a good headstone for Bob. I used the rock in her yard as an excuse to go see her the next day.

After looking at the rock, we decided it wouldn’t work for a headstone.

I then asked her what message she had received from Lorna. She didn’t want to tell me. Deborah told me she hadn’t wanted to say anything the day before. She said she was “pushed” back into the car and had regretted having said anything at all ever since. I said,” Okay, that’s fine.”

We then went over to the Alpine Cemetery to Lorna’s gravesite. While there, I asked her again. “So what was the message from Lorna?” (I was on a mission).

The Song

With a bit of reluctance, she shared her experience with me.

A day or two before leaving for Las Vegas, she was at a friend’s house, the Lindsays, playing Mexican Train, a domino game. The Romneys, Lindseys and another couple the Hoffmans, would get together for games and socializing. Joan Lindsey always has background music playing softly in her home. During the game, Deborah heard a song. When she asked the group what the name of the song was, she said; “I love that song,” About fifteen minutes later, Dean Lindsay told her that it was a Frank Sinatra song, “Someone to Watch over Me.”

Deborah had invited a friend to go to Las Vegas with her. They were going to drive down. At the last minute, her friend cancelled. Instead of driving by herself to Las Vegas, Deborah took the bus from Provo.

Between St. George and Las Vegas, as Deborah is looking out the window of the bus, the song “Someone to Watch over Me” starts playing in her mind. She is in a row by herself, no one sitting to her right. As she is singing the song to herself, she hears Lorna say from the empty seat next to her,’Deborah, you need someone to watch over you…and so does Craig.’

Immediately, Deborah turns and asks out loud, ” Lorna, are you talking to me?”  She said the people on the bus probably thought she was a crazy lady, talking to an empty seat.

She was in Las Vegas for three days. She thought about what Lorna had said. She read the book The Message.

During our first phone call, I asked her is she had dated or met anyone. She said no. She had no intention of dating or getting married again. She didn’t want to take the time necessary to get to really know someone well enough to make that kind of commitment. Besides, in the year Bob had been gone she had put things pretty much in order. She was learning to doing things on her own. She had even traveled to China by herself. Generally speaking, she was doing well.

However, during those few days in Vegas, she realized she wouldn’t need to get to know me: she already knew me and our family. We had been friends for thirty years. I wasn’t an unknown. She started to warm to the idea of maybe getting married again.

On the bus ride home, the bus stopped for a lunch break at a truckstop in Parowan, Utah. While Deborah is eating lunch she heard Bob say, “It breaks my heart to see you alone. I don’t want you to be alone.”

When Deborah gets home, as she is walking into the kitchen, she look’s at a picture of Bob on the counter and hears him say, “He’s a good guy.” (She knew exactly who he was talking about). She replies, “I know he’s a good guy. What are you trying to tell me?” She says that when Bob wanted to emphasize something, he would repeat the same words again, but slowly. Bob repeated the words again slowly, “He’s a good guy.” She asks him, “Are you trying to pawn me off?” She takes the picture off the counter and puts it away.

When she finished telling me about the song and hearing from Lorna and Bob, she said, ” I’m not sure what it means. Maybe we should be friends and look out for each other.” I told her I didn’t need any more friends. Besides, we were already friends. I said, “I believe it means more than just being friends. We should spend time doing things together and see where it goes.”

We started doing things together. It was like two old friends becoming reacquainted after a long absence.

We found out we were both at Ricks College in the fall of 1966. I found my old yearbook. There are twelve pictures of Deborah in the yearbook. As we are looking through the book, I’m pointing out all of her pictures. She was getting more embarrassed with each one. She wanted to see my pictures. Pictures? “There is only one picture of me, on page 247, with 55 other freshmen.” (She had a full page all by herself for one of her photo’s.)

As she looked at my picture, she later told me that as first it was as though she was looking through a cloud. She was drawn to the photo, because there was something familiar about the person in the photo. I believe she looked back through the veil to that time before time and recognized me.

It was soon obvious to both of us that, in fact, we had “known each other forever, and loved each other forever.” For us to be together for the last five or ten or twenty years of our lives was our plan from the beginning.

In the blessing from President Butler in March of 2016, I was told that the decision to get married would be “mutually felt and understood with no words.” That’s how it happened, “mutually felt and understood with no words.” We both just knew.

We were married January 11, 2019, in the family room of the home on Matterhorn Drive in Alpine, Utah. We wanted a small, informal ceremony.

President Butler performed the wedding ceremony. In attendance besides Deborah and me were President Butler and his wife Lynn. Cory and Tracy Jensen were witnesses. (The same Cory who was told while riding his bike over the loop between AF canyon and Provo canyon in Oct 2015 by Lorna to “keep an eye on Craig”, a duty Cory and Tracy performed very well).

From the other side of the veil? Lorna, Bob and most assuredly others.

On a number of occasions after Lorna passed away, I would feel a prompting to go somewhere, or do something. I would go and do, only to wonder afterwards, “Why did I go there, or do that?” Like Elder Smith, I came to understand that I was being taught how to hear, so that when I had to hear, I could.

As I mentioned earlier in the book by Tom Heal, a good friend of many years, “It seems as though she [Lorna] was going from one friend or loved one to another to see who could hear her.”

As Calli has written;

My mom is still here with me. She will always be here with me. I hear her in a variety of way–through music, through thoughts or words in my mind as I am waking up, through dreams, through pictures in my mind.

A person whom I love shared an experience she had with her mother, who had passed away many years ago.  She sees her mother in a dream and receives some counsel from her.

After hearing what her mother had to say, she said, “It has been so long since we talked.”  Her mothers reply: “I’ve been here.”

It is a language we all speak, we just have to remember how to speak it, how to hear it.

A phrase from a ceremonial drama I participated in has become my mantra as I’m waking up in the morning:  “Let-your minds be calm. You will be visited soon.”  Consequently, just waking up has become a special part of my day, even if I don’t hear anything.

See President Russell M. Nelson’s admonition to his family as he spoke at his daughter Wendy’s funeral in January of 2019: “So dear family, stay tuned.”

How insightful Dawn’s dad’s counsel to her: “Be still and quiet, you’ll hear me.”

Experience has taught me that when I find myself thinking of Lorna, and I feel some emotion, it’s because she is thinking of me. That’s a time to “be still and quiet.”

My prayer for me and our family from day one has been that we have ears to hear, hearts to feel, and minds to know.

My hope for all who may read this book is that you have ears to hear, hearts to feel and minds to know, that you may be as blessed and connected to your departed loved ones as we have been.

Elder Boyd K. Packer in a Conference talk in 1987: “I remind you that it is a veil, not a wall  . . . .”

— Craig Jenkins, Alpine Utah, 2021

Sunday March 19, 2017

John Anderson, a good friend (he sang in the quartet at Lorna’s funeral), runs into me at church. After the normal pleasantries he starts to tell me about a woman, Allyson, who works for him. He tells me she is 44 years old, never been married and is like a wonder woman. She takes good care of herself and is true and faithful in the Church. I’m not sure why he was telling me about a woman who is 44 (I was almost 69). Then he said, “And I know she has dated men in their 50’s.” I then realized he was telling me about Allyson, to see if I would be interested in meeting her.

I said, “John, how old do you think I am?”  “He said, I don’t know, 56?”  I said, no. “He said,”54?” I said, ” no.”He said, “Am I going the wrong way?” I said,” yes.” He said, “Well, you couldn’t be over 60.” I should have said, “John, you’re my new best friend.” Instead, I said, “John, I’m almost, not quite, but almost 25 years older than her. Not an option for me.”

However, as John was telling me about Allyson, I’m thinking of Scott Lindeman, a friend, whose wife Cindi had passed away the day before, March 17.  Allyson sounded like a perfect match for Scott (he was 52 and fit, not 69 and kinda fit). My thought was that if and when Scott was ready to start meeting or dating, I would tell him about John’s friend.

Cindi’s funeral was held on March 25, 2017.

Friday afternoon March 31, I called Scott to see if he would like to go get something to eat.

During dinner, Scott mentioned that our stake president, Buzz Butler, had stopped to see him and his family. Scott was the only one home. Before leaving, President Butler offered to give him a blessing. Because Scott was there alone with no one to be a scribe to keep notes of the blessing, President Butler offered to let him record the blessing (something he virtually never allows). He told me he had listened to it three or four times and had already transcribed it.

I asked him what he had been told. Among other things, he shared with me this statement from the blessing: “She [Cindi] will be a guiding force in bringing you a women who will be her sister, whom she [Cindi] knows very well [Cindi and Allyson had never met on this side of the veil]. You’ll need not seek it necessarily, but allow your heart and mind to be open to it. She will be pleasing to your children, and they will accept her readily. She will have a familiarity of spirit, not only to you, but to your children and grandchildren.”

I start hearing, “Tell him [Scott] about John’s friend.” I’m thinking, It’s been 13 days since Cindi passed away, it’s too soon. “Tell him about John’s friend!”

With a bit of reticence, I bring up John’s friend Allyson. I tell Scott what little I knew about her: fit, faithful, never been married, 44 years old.

For obvious reasons, Scott showed very little interest in meeting her. I told Scott I would find out a little bit more.

After dropping me off, I called John to find out a bit more. I shared that info with Scott, who wanted to visit with John, and did.

After visiting with Scott, John called Allyson and told her a bit about Scott. She said she would be willing to meet him for lunch if he was interested. John called me back and gave me her phone number, which I passed on to Scott. He wasn’t sure he would ever make the call.

That weekend was general conference.  Sunday morning, he woke up with no intention of calling Allyson. That decision changed during the day, Sunday.

When they met for lunch a few weeks later, they talked for three and a half hours.

They were married in December, eight months later.

Cindi started that ball rolling the day after she died, when John stopped in the stake offices and told me about Alyson.

At the wedding luncheon, Scott and Allyson asked John and me to share our part of their story. I mentioned that the story involved five people: Scoot, Allyson, John, me and Cindi. I knew John and Scott, John knew me and Allyson.  Cindi knew us all.

John said that when Allyson applied for the job to work with him, she wasn’t a good match for the person he was looking for. However, he felt it was important that she be hired. He knew now why.

Allyson was asked to speak in the Alpine West Stake conference, the Sunday session, January 13, 2019.