I’m always caught somewhere in between everything happens for a reason and you create your own destiny.
I met a lady who was a psychic the other day. I called her a fortune teller when I mentioned the encounter to my family, but I’m actually not really sure what she is. A nice, intuitive lady who offered Scott and I to join her and her husband at dinner when we couldn’t find a table.
She spoke of places I had never been like the French countryside and Missouri. She talked of her father and how he died, and her mother and how she taught her about astrology. I felt like I could see her mother through her eyes. I felt affected by that imaginary glance, even though her mother wasn’t a character in my story.
After her father died, she was never a child again. She said when she turned 12 she actually turned 21. A psychic told her so, but she knew it was true because she hung around 30 year olds all summer.
She knew a lot about me. That I was an observer. Quiet, but listening. That I was stubborn. That high school was challenging for me.
She said I would write a book someday, but she couldn’t tell me when. She wrote my name down. I knew I would’t forget her either.
What I always feel God is telling me is: “You have the ability to do great things. Make sure that you do them.”
It means a lot of things. Some things I don’t even know about yet. But I know I’m going to write that book someday. I work towards it every day, even if it isn’t noticeable. I’m just not sure when either.
Have you ever been to a psychic?