My baptism was not an impulsive decision. It was something my heart had been moving toward for nearly two years.
My faith and beliefs are deeply personal, and the path that led me here has been anything but straightforward. It has been tumultuous at times, peculiar at others, but through it all I have finally found peace. Simply put, I have found peace in Jesus.
I have found peace in His resurrection and in the deep certainty that there is life beyond this one.
I do not consider myself religious in the traditional sense. I do not believe a relationship with God is confined to one church, one denomination, or one prescribed path. I struggle with dogma, self-righteousness, and the idea that any one person holds all the answers.
What I do believe is that every individual can develop a relationship with the divine if they sincerely seek it. And I believe THAT relationship can and will transform a life. Maybe yours?
No two spiritual journeys need to look alike. Mine certainly has not. I think faith is often quieter, more personal, and far more complicated than people sometimes allow it to be, especially when your questions or experiences challenge what you believe to be true. But for me, the journey has led to greater peace, deeper awareness, and a more compassionate understanding of both myself and others.
For nearly two years I had wrestled with whether I should be baptized in Utah or Phoenix. I had imagined doing it in Utah and wondered what impact it would have—whether positive or negative—but I could never fully settle into a feeling of peace about it. I worried about how it might affect my children, daughters-in-law’s, and grandsons. If I had chosen to be baptized in Utah, I think I would have spent too much time worrying about how my family would react to the church we go to. But Phoenix felt simple, peaceful, and exactly what it was meant to be, an outward expression of the inward relationship I have gained with Christ.
The morning of my baptism began like any other Sunday morning: rushing around at the last minute trying to get ready. My backpack was packed with a change of clothes and a blow dryer when at the last minute I asked Kevin to grab the Bible I had in my nightstand and put it inside.
I have at least five of my mom’s Bibles, and for some reason I wanted one with me during this trip to Phoenix to help care for Joan, Kevin's 94 year-old mother. Her health had taken a turn for the worse, and I sensed this trip would be different. I chose the smallest Bible from one of my bookcases. It is a beautiful rich mahogany color with gold-embossed leaves on the cover. I have never actually read this particular Bible, but without question my mom had read it cover to cover, just as she did all of her Bibles.
My mom had a relationship with the Bible that I deeply admired. I believe every time she finished reading one of her Bibles, she became more peaceful, humble, and introspective. She used scripture as a compass for her life and decisions. It grounded her.
On January 31, 2024, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. I was not surprised when she calmly told the doctor she would not be seeking treatment. My sister and niece quickly arranged palliative care. Mom passed away on April 3, 2024, only a little over two months after receiving confirmation of the diagnosis.
At my wedding on October 7, 2023, only months before the diagnosis. I had a strange feeling she would not be with us another year. She had been having pain in her side, but true to her nature, she minimized it and rarely spoke about it.
After the ceremony I hugged my mom, and she cried. I rarely saw my mother cry. I know she was happy to see me married, but I also think she knew something was wrong. There was something in her eyes that told me. I believe she was sad to leave her family, yet ready to be reunited with those waiting for her on the other side. Most of all, I think she longed to be with Jesus. I believe she had developed a deeply intimate relationship with Christ and yearned to be with Him.
The short time we had after her diagnosis became priceless. During those final months we spent countless hours talking, and I came to know my mother on a much deeper level. She also learned things about me. We tried to be honest with each other about almost everything, though there were still painful truths left untouched because some wounds felt too deep and too late to fully reopen.
Because the Bible had become so important to my mother during the later years of her life, the one thing I wanted after she died was the Bible she had been actively reading. One day while visiting, I told her that all I wanted was her Bible. She opened the Bible, took her bookmark that listed all the books of the Old and New Testament, and wrote: “This Bible is for Lori.”
The final days of my mother’s life were surreal. The veil between heaven and earth felt incredibly thin. Days before she died, she called out for her sister Barbara, who had passed away years earlier. Barbara had been her closest friend throughout her life. It seemed only fitting that Barbara might be there to greet her into the next realm of existence. As Mom drifted further in and out of consciousness, I picked up her Bible and began reading Psalms aloud to her. Psalms had always comforted her during sleepless nights. I opened the pages and landed on Psalm 100. After reading it, I tucked the Bible beneath her right arm, where it remained until she passed away.
That moment later became significant when we designed her headstone. A line from Psalm 100 seemed perfect:
“His steadfast love endures forever.”
Several times before she died, I asked my mother if she could send me signs from heaven to let me know she was in heaven with Jesus. I do not remember her ever answering directly, but I knew she heard me. Since her passing, I believe she has sent me three distinct signs.
The third sign came the day of my baptism.
That morning, I asked Kevin to grab Mom’s Bible out of the end table so I could have something of hers with me during the service. Mom had given me this bible years ago. It had been on my bookshelf for such a long time, I had not opened it in years. Kevin stuffed it in my backpack and off we went.
I was supposed to arrive at church early to check in for baptism. Somehow Kevin mixed up the times and drove like a madman to get us there. Ironically, we arrived thirty minutes early. That unexpected extra time gave me the opportunity to sit quietly in the back seat of the car, pull out Mom’s Bible, read for a few moments, and settle into the perfect mindset before being baptized.
And it was placed at, Psalm 100.
I wept.
That bookmark resting at Psalm 100 felt like another whisper from my mom telling me...His Steadfast Love Endures Forever.
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