A Love Story
It began with God as everything in my life does.
I began getting messages through automatic writings in June 1991.
The messages were specific; a man with salt and pepper hair, from a foreign country, who loved classical music, named Michael would soon become my husband.
I told everyone who would listen, even my skeptical family, who to say the least loved God but did not believe he actually spoke to anyone, much less about something as mundane as an impending marriage.
On the morning I was to sing a few solos at my tiny little church in N. Hollywood, I was besieged with immense grief. I had been at the hospital the night before with 15 others, singing my friend of more than 20 years, Jim, into heaven.
As I stood before the congregation of about 100 people, all of them shared my pain. Jim was also a member…
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