We're Grateful for the Good Guys

Caleb,

You always knew this, but since you graduated from this life, it has been made undeniable to me:

People are good.

So very good.

When you were little, you were fascinated with “good guys” and “bad guys.” I remember sitting in the suburban with you at a gas station, while Dad was pumping gas, while you carefully watched every person who walked by.

“Mom, are they a good guy or a bad guy?”

How do you explain to a five-year-old that a stranger isn’t a bad guy just because we don’t know them? That most people are probably good — we just have to be wise and careful?

I did my best.

Not long after, the deeper realization hit me. The reason you needed to know wasn’t fear.

It was possibility.

Because if they weren’t bad guys… then they could be your friend.

You believed you could be friends with anyone.

And as you grew, I saw it more clearly. You looked past quirks,  awkwardness, and even past occasional meanness. You saw through to something deeper — something truer. You saw people as inherently good,  worthy and lovable.

And you loved them.

Caleb, those good people have shown up for us. I know that would make you smile.

We have been showered in love in more ways than I can count.

When you passed, several people reached out asking if I knew JR — the man who paints portraits of missionaries who pass away while serving. When I finally contacted him, he gently told me that your mission president had already called him. The portrait was already in motion.

Of course it was.

Another tender mercy: your mission president and his wife, Brother and Sister Taufa, had also lost a son while he was serving his mission. When they spoke to us, it wasn’t just with sympathy - it was with sacred understanding.

I stood in awe that one of JR’s callings in this life is to paint the faces of missionaries who leave this world too soon.

We sent him a photo, a few details, and the exact color of your eyes.

He began that very morning.

The portrait was finished before your funeral.


 

As JR paints, he often feels impressions about the missionary he is working on. This was his experience with you:

“I was listening to a CD of Jenny Oaks Baker when I suddenly felt an emotion as she was playing ‘Silent Night.’ I don’t normally focus on the words. I just use calming music while I paint. But in that moment I heard, ‘All is calm, all is bright.’ I am touched by the opportunity of painting the portrait of your son. I pray it will be a comforting thing for your family.”

All is calm.
All is bright.

It is comforting.

We have been the recipients of so much goodness. So much quiet, heaven-sent kindness.

I have more stories. You know them all.

You’ve been watching — smiling, I’m sure — as good people have wrapped their arms around us and carried us through.

You were right, Caleb.

People are good.

And today, I am especially grateful for JR Johansen and Cindy Thredgold, his secretary (who also lost a child on a mission) who reached out to us with so much love and kindness.

Dad picked up the portrait from JR, and they met for a few precious minutes. You would have loved him, too!

Love,

Mom 

 
PS, If you're reading this and interested in JR's story, here is a short news story about what he does. This was done by the reporter Dan Rascon, who was the same one who came to visit with us after Caleb passed away.  He was also genuinely kind.
 

https://kutv.com/features/inside-the-story/inside-the-story-the-mission-to-keep-the-memories-alive-of-lds-missionaries-who-have-died

 


 

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