Posted on October 30, 2025

When the unseen became undeniable.

Sometimes direction doesn’t point like a compass or shine like a star. It appears as a shadow that makes you turn your head and wonder why. I wasn’t searching for faith that day; I was searching for proof that fortune tellers didn’t exist. But what I found instead, what I felt, was a quiet knowing that altered my path. I came to debunk, not believe. Yet that divine nudge has been guiding me ever since.

This story is part of my Miracle Moments series, true accounts of the unexpected turns that change how we see the world. This one is about the moment I learned to stop dismissing what I didn’t understand and start listening to my intuition.

I wasn’t a believer.

I grew up in a world where faith was certain and mystery was suspect. Anything 'psychic' or 'tarot' lived on the list of things good Christians avoided. But life has its own sense of timing and sometimes it leads you straight into the questions you were taught not to ask.

It was July of 1991, and my friend Debbie had scheduled a reading with a woman named Grace. “Come with me,” she asked. I agreed. Not out of curiosity, but out of protection. I was sure I’d expose a fraud before lunch.

Grace lived in a quiet townhome in north Oklahoma City. She looked ordinary enough, maybe in her fifties, calm, friendly, not mystical in the least. We sat at her dining room table while Debbie handed over $20. Grace drew nine tarot cards, laying them out in groups of three.

Her first words stole the air from the room.
“When you were a teenager, you had an identity crisis,” she told Debbie, “and because of that, you really embraced your new world.”

My mouth dropped. Debbie’s too. Years earlier, at thirteen, Debbie learned the man she thought was her father, wasn’t. Her real father, who was half Black, had died before she ever knew him. Grace could not have known this. It was the early 1990s, no internet, no Facebook, no digital trail to chase down. The world was still made of paper and word of mouth, and intuition was often the only search engine we had. Just those cards, and her words, cutting straight through disbelief.

By the time Grace finished describing Debbie’s husband, children, and even her husband’s unusual string of jobs, we were both stunned. Every detail hit uncomfortably close to home. I hadn’t come for a reading, I’d come to expose one. I was there to protect my friend, to prove this so-called psychic was a fraud. But after what I’d just witnessed, curiosity, mixed with a strange unease, got the better of me.

I slid my $20 across the table and asked one question: “Will I get married this year?”
Grace smiled, calm and certain. “You’ll marry in mid-October,” she said without hesitation. “And no, it’s not because you’re pregnant.”

She couldn’t have known how tangled that question really was. The canceled plans, the disapproving future mother-in-law. We had talked about eloping to the Caribbean, just the two of us, somewhere no one could interfere or try to stop us.. Yet she was right. We married on October 13, 1991.

She told me my first child would be named after my mother-in-law which was something I would never do. However, three years later, when my mother-in-law asked if I would consider her maiden name for our son, I gave that very little thought. It was a no. Then, the morning he was born, having a completely different name picked out, I told my husband I had changed my mind. We named him after her maiden name and it was only later I remembered what Grace had told me four years prior. She had also predicted my middle sister would move to a big city and climb her career ladder, while my oldest sister’s daughter would struggle through a few rough years.

Some predictions unfolded months later, others years down the line but enough of them landed that my skepticism began to soften.

So I bought a tarot deck.
At first, the cards offered only silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, a knowing stirred. Steady, certain, as if the language had always been there, waiting for me to remember it.

That day with Grace didn’t just open a door; it rerouted the map of my life.

From Skeptic to Seeker
That first reading took place over thirty years ago, long before I understood what it truly meant. But it planted a seed that’s shaped the course of my life. Today, that early moment of knowing lives on in the work I do—helping others discover their own inner guidance through hypnosis, mindset work, and intuitive Clarity Readings.

And yes, I know that for some, stories like this may sound offensive or even unsettling. I understand; I once felt the same way. But for me, this experience didn’t open a door to something dark, it opened a window to accountability, faith, and trust. It taught me how to look within for answers, how to combine logic and intuition, and how to release fear in favor of peace.

Over the years, I’ve learned that when people seek readings out of desperation or fear, the messages often feel vague or confusing. That’s not failure, that’s freewill. We are never handed our path; we are offered direction, and the rest is ours to choose.

When Grace told me I’d “name my firstborn after my mother-in-law,” I assumed it meant I’d have a girl named Sharron, an idea that seemed impossible. Instead, I had a son, and he carries her maiden name. The prediction was true, just not in the way I expected.

That’s the deeper purpose of a Clarity Reading: not to tell you what to do next, but to remind you that you are guided. That faith and freewill walk hand in hand. When you ask with an open heart, life answers in extraordinary ways.

If you ever feel unsure or disconnected from your sense of purpose, consider scheduling a Clarity Reading with me at www.lighthousemindsetstudio.com. It’s not about predicting your future, it’s about remembering your faith in it.

Your story might just become your next miracle.

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