I hesitate to call being psychic a ‘gift’ because ‘gift’ implies I’ve got something you don’t. And that is not the case. We all have intuition. But like any other skill, some are just more adept than others. I mean, we can all add but it doesn’t mean we’re good at math, right? Same thing here, we are all intuitive but most people don’t pay attention.
For anyone already tuning me out, I ask mothers out there: Do you not know when your child’s up to no good, whether you’re with them or not? For anyone out there, can you not walk into a silent room and feel there’s been an argument? We’ve all had the distinct feeling that something good or bad was about to happen, right? And were you not right?
I already know the answer to the above questions, so please hear me out.
I realize “psychic” is a loaded word to a lot of people, especially in the Bible belt. But call it what you will: intuition, ESP, telepathy, discernment of the spirit . . . whatever. It’s the same thing. What we do with this ability determines its being ‘good’ or ‘bad’ . . . but this isn’t a lesson on semantics so I’ll get to that another day. This is about my experiences as an intuitive woman. I’m going to share my ghost stories with you and perhaps more importantly, my angel stories. Five years ago I thought angels were Biblical lore. I was wrong.
I promise to tell you the truth. I will embellish nothing. Ladies and gentlemen, this is non-fiction. I do not think everything can be explained by science, math, or man’s interpretation of God’s word. So I come to you with no explanation, only a lifetime of proof that we are not alone. I’m not talking aliens, I’m talking God.
And all this started before I was one year old.