I was born in Vigo, Spain, to an English father and a Puerto Rican mother. I was two years old when my father was transferred to Cuba and he relocated us with him. Six months after our arrival, the Castro revolution began; fighting broke out in the streets, with strikes and shootings becoming common occurrences, often within hearing distance of our house. Two years later, fearing for our safety, my father moved his family out of danger to Puerto Rico, remaining behind in Cuba to fulfill his duties for another three months before joining us.

The seed for this book was planted on the island of Puerto Rico. As my early life unfolded there, meaningful events subconsciously anchored the realization that there was more to me than a physical self, the prelude to a long journey of inquiry into questions of life after death.  

The first event was a near-drowning experience at the age of eight on a beautiful beach. One moment I was happily walking into seemingly gentle waters and the next I was underwater, being tossed helplessly by turbulent waves. I could “see” my body rolling in the waves, as if in slow motion. There was a distinct absence of fear as I watched myself with great calm and no sense of urgency. I seemed to have no attachment to my body and was not afraid, anxious, or worried.  

The next experience happened at the age of eleven. Given an overdose of nitrous oxide anesthesia during a dental procedure, I felt as if I were leaving my body through the head. My attention suddenly shifted to a tunnel that I was approaching at great speed but which seemed too small for me to fit through. As I struggled to enter the tunnel, I “heard” my deceased grandfather’s voice call out to me. Turning to look for him, I saw a bright light and “heard” his voice telling me to go back—that it was not my time to pass on. I immediately regained consciousness, still in the dentist’s chair.

These poignant experiences remained in the back of my curious mind for many years.
My father was transferred to the island of St. Lucia, where he managed improvements to the island’s communication services. It was there that I married, had three sons, and began reading metaphysical books, seeking to find significance in my childhood experiences. I started practicing Transcendental Meditation, a mental technique that promotes deep relaxation through the silent repetition of a simple sound, known as a mantra. Through this practice, I found the inner calmness that helped me overcome many challenges in my marriage. Eventually I found the strength and courage to follow an inner leading and, with my sons, left my husband and St. Lucia. We moved to Fairfield, Iowa, where another experience changed my life forever and laid the foundation for this book.

One day, friends invited me to join them in seeing a woman from India who was considered a wise guru; some thought her to be a saint. Her name was Ammachi. There was a long line of people waiting to receive her advice, and I wondered what was foremost on my mind. Should I ask her about my children, my relationships, my career, my health, or my future? These were things that others were asking. Looking around the room, I reflected about my marriage and became painfully aware that I had never experienced devotion. When my turn came, during the customary hug, I found myself asking, “Will I feel devotion in this lifetime?” Ammachi pulled me back and stared deeply into my eyes. As she hugged me her translator gave me her response: “Love God because only God loves you.” I would reflect on her words for years.

Soon afterward, I started attending St. Gabriel and All Angels Liberal Catholic Church, a church of open communion. Its ceremony stirred in me a deep longing for God I had never felt growing up as a Roman Catholic. I realized that my attendance at the services was not as important as the attitude I brought with me, and my quest for devotion took on a life of its own. I became an altar server at the church and eventually a deaconess.

During this time, I became aware of my fear of dying and the general reluctance of others to talk about death. I knew that to overcome this fear I had to know more about the dying process and develop an expanded perspective that included life after death. So I began various activities, including joining an organization of caregivers and volunteers who serve terminally ill patients and their families. Working as a hospice volunteer provided the perfect opportunity to come to terms with my fear and to study other people’s attitudes about death; it disclosed that many people at the end of life are in denial of their impending transition.

I also delved deeply into the theologies of different religions, including Christianity, Buddhism, and Hinduism. I studied the Rosicrucian and Theosophy philosophies and the popular concepts described in The Complete Ascension Manual. I developed workshops on spiritual care for living and dying. As a deaconess, I conducted these workshops to assist those who sought deeper meaning in their grief and more fortitude when serving loved ones who were facing death.

This extensive research and analysis, along with my teaching efforts, revealed that essential pieces of the Big Picture of Existence were missing. There had to be greater significance to the similarities and differences in the many distinctive philosophies. I concluded that to have a better perspective of individual destiny after death, and to discover the highest meaning and purpose of our existence, I had to find these missing pieces and objectivelyconnect the fragmented information into a whole so that a full picture could emerge. I knew that to increase my understanding of humanity’s destiny, a deeper exploration of humanity’s origin was essential.

Soon the many unanswered questions I had about the Christian teaching of Adam and Eve began to recur. One day, a notice on the bulletin board of a health food store caught my attention: “WHO ARE ADAM AND EVE?” I wondered if the person who posted the note was looking for an answer as I was… or had found the answer. I called and was invited to attend a study group of The Urantia Book. This was the first time I had heard the word “Urantia.” 

Returning home, I did some research and discovered that Urantia is the celestial name of planet Earth, and that the mysterious book was filled with teachings about God and the universe. Adding another “coincidence” to the chain of events, I discovered that my companion at the time had owned a copy of The Urantia Book for over twenty years!  He “loaned” me the book—which I have to this day.

I cautiously opened the tome, intimidated by its size. I found the chapters on Adam and Eve and eagerly absorbed what they revealed. Excited, I then turned to the chapter about the heavenly rebellion, a biblical teaching that I instinctively knew had great significance but also missing elements.  

I was not prepared for what came next. I was ecstatic to finally explore these unknown events in the history of our planet that had affected humanity so deeply. I knew in my heart that this big blue book contained answers to the questions that had confounded me for so long. But then I came upon a teaching about Sons of God that conflicted with a Christian doctrine that had been the foundation of my childhood beliefs. Confusion clouded my objectivity, and the process of reconciliation was delayed. I closed the book and did not open it again for six years.

The spiritual agitation that some of the teachings in The Urantia Book had stirred in me came to a head six months later when I approached my regional bishop. As I expressed my doubts and fears, he gave me a long, hard look and, with a loud chuckle, clapped his hands in congratulations! He said that beliefs should leave room for expansion; that if I released my fears about letting go of the familiar, my faith would lead me to greater truth and the discovery that my existing beliefs have a place within an expanded perspective. His wise response was a pivotal moment in my life.

As I embraced this possibility, I had casual thoughts of writing a book. People who attended my workshops encouraged the idea, but at the time I was managing a successful consulting business; writing a book was not on my list of priorities. Turning to God, I prayed for help. If I was to write a book, I needed a positive indication; the perfect sign would be if one of my sons brought up the subject of death. Like most young men, they felt immortal so it was unlikely that they would bring up the subject on their own. I also asked God for help with the title of the book.

Not long after my request for a sign, my youngest son unexpectedly dropped by for a visit. After dinner, we settled down to watch a movie and I asked him to select one. He looked at the choices and picked Marvin’s Room. He said it was about a woman who was dying . . . and then he asked me what I thought happened, if anything, after death. I was surprised, but I should have known God would not waste time! Then panic set in; I felt that God had responded with the sign—but where would I find the time to write a book?  I rationalized that God still needed to give me a title … and wondered how he would manage that.

A while later, without forethought, I picked up a book I had left by my desk, considered the title, and wondered what my book would be called. Before I had time for another thought, I heard the words “Heaven Is Not the Last Stop” in my right ear. I jumped, dropped the book, and found my mind blank. “What was that?” I asked myself. Immediately the words “Heaven Is Not the Last Stop” were repeated clearly in my ear! I fumbled with my pen and excitedly wrote down the title: Heaven Is Not the Last Stop. That was it! The end of excuses! I had received the sign I had asked for, plus the title. My mission was set: I was to create a book. But . . . if heaven was not the last stop, what is?

Such a provocative title demanded a more logical and comprehensive account of the soul and its journey after death. A common factor that surfaced in my research was the concept of planes, representing realms of existence from the most spiritual to the most material. I was particularly drawn to the theory of spiritual evolution through seven cosmic planes. In general, however, the descriptions were either too abstract or didn’t stand up to critical analysis. I kept praying for inner guidance to help me discover the relationships that exist between the cosmic planes and the soul’s journey after death.

After six months of further study, research, reflection, and constant requests for clarification, I was vacationing abroad when I happened upon The Urantia Book—the very tome I had rejected because it challenged one of my cherished beliefs. I picked it up and randomly opened it. The title staring back at me was “The Seven Superuniverses.” The connection between my request and what I was reading became obvious. Once again, I felt the synchronicity of spiritual guidance and instinctively knew that my mind was ready to work with my heart to explore concepts outside my comfort zone.

Upon returning home, I retrieved my copy of The Urantia Book and eagerly began to read and reconcile. I knew that opening my mind to an expanded perspective of God and creation would be no easy task, but I also knew my faith would lead me to greater understanding.

I dove into the profound text with a renewed dedication, breaking through boundaries in long-held concepts and beliefs. My life seemed to change in every aspect, and for some time it felt as if I were undergoing a deep relearning process. This spiritual agitation was mirrored in a letter to a friend:

“I am feeling overwhelmed not only because my life seems to be moving so fast, but also because of how I am relating to people and how I am perceiving others relating to me feels different and even confusing. Words and expressions do not provide the same meanings or convey what I once took for granted. My past seems foggy. The concepts that once gave me comfort and provided me with my identity are not holding up and I find it difficult to remember them. Everything is a question. In my reality, I feel as if I am in no-man's land, in a vacuum, or suspended animation. It feels as if a fog is covering what I once considered my world, and all that exists is the certainty of the unknown and the strong sound of silence . . . “

My spiritual conflict was eventually resolved through the process of reconciliation. A new perspective of existence was unfolding along with a deeper, more vibrant relationship with God and those around me. I was ready to begin writing.

After reading The Urantia Book, I knew why I had been guided to it. It opened my eyes to the marvels of God's creation in a way that transformed my life forever. The revelatory concepts in this epic text shed light on the underpinnings of my faith, helping me discover the essential truths about God that had been missing in my religious framework.

The Urantia Book provided the most consistent presentation of philosophy, theology, cosmology, and history I had ever read. Openness to this wisdom, along with resolution of the personal conflicts it raised,  clarified and expanded my worldview—my understanding of humanity’s spirit origin, history, and destiny—enabling me to stitch together my research and derive greater meaning from that information.

I did not know that in trying to quench my fears about death, I would be deepening my knowledge about my relationship to God and the universe. I did not know that my pursuit of devotion would deepen my personal connection with God and with others. Yet the two go hand in hand, for one activates the other. Thus, from the fragments of knowledge and life, the Big Picture of Existence emerged, more clear and compelling than ever before. And that is how this book came to be.

Writing a book that abridges a revelation is a daunting task, one that I undertook with a great deal of respect and humility. It is my hope that Heaven Is Not the Last Stop will instill into the heart of every reader the significance to the world of the epic text called The Urantia Book. I know from personal experience that a clearer and more expanded perspective of our place in the universe can inspire a renewed and consecrated commitment to become one’s best for the sake of future generations. And it is this passionate dedication on the part of each individual that will advance collective peace and social progress on our beautiful world.