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finally arrived at the understanding that we all come from one Source. All of us. I believe that every single creature and entity in this universe is crafted by the hands of the same Creator, a being that I still have trouble comprehending, but one that I still refer to as God. We are all his children, and it is to him that we are to return.
    One might think that my acceptance of my intuitive gifts and my interactions with the Realm of Spirit would cause me to abandon the religious teachings I grew up with. Not entirely. I didn’t have to leave my Christian faith to become accepting of the faiths of others. Though I embrace and respect the philosophies of many religions and those who follow them, the cornerstone of my life remains Jesus of Nazareth. He is my mentor, but more than that, he is my family. He is my father, and to him I am answerable for everything I do in this lifetime.
    Though I embrace this pantheism with great conviction, it was not a belief that I was able to adopt overnight. Even now, there are days when years of religious conditioning rear their ugly head and whisper in the back of my mind, What if you’re wrong? I’ve had my surlier moments when I’ve pretended that I couldn’t hear Jesus or the angels calling me to offer their instruction or to discuss some aspect of my life. Doing so has often led to a life crisis that forced me to turn my attention in their direction. I know that if I’m wrong, they will tell me and then body-slam me onto the proper path—repeatedly, if need be, until I am sore, winded, and making a timeout gesture with my hands.
    “All right, I surrender. You win,” I’ve often said after being set aright by the powers that be. And that’s just after arguing with them over the next book or taking on a new client!
    As I’ve walked this life’s path, I’ve grown savvy to the angels’ spiritual wrestling techniques. As I mentioned earlier, I wanted nothing to do with “God’s plan.” Gabriel called acceptance of my destiny a walk of faith; I called it unemployment. Either way, I lost the battle. In fact, I nearly lost my life, but there are days when I scoff and say death may have been the easier path. After losing everything I owned, including irreplaceable treasures such as my childhood photos and family heirlooms with more sentimental than monetary value, I sometimes wonder why I even bother getting up every morning. But then I’ll get e-mails such as this:
Dear Chantel,
I just wanted to thank you for writing your books and being brave enough to talk about the angels and discuss the real problems many of us face when it comes to spirituality. Like you, I’ve encountered many a dark day and questioned my belief in God, but then I stop and look at my life through the angels’ eyes and realize that everything has a purpose—not just my life, but all the good and bad that comes with it. Thank you for helping me to make peace with myself and showing me how to focus more on how to endure and learn from every lesson God brings before me.
    So many times I have received letters asking for prayers and intercessions for people in some of the most harrowing circumstances imaginable. I find myself so badly wanting to write back and say that all will be well, that it will all work out in the end. But the truth is, it might work out, but it might not. When I look up into the eyes of an archangel, seeking an answer either way, he may answer me or he may simply fold his arms, shake his head, and deny my request for insight—or, in many cases, foresight.
    For some whom I’ve read for, the angels have offered up a few predictions, though not many. I’m not in the business of making predictions, and neither are the angels, for that matter. Like them, my life’s purpose is to simply guide and offer wisdom. But unlike them, I cannot see the future, not even my own, and I’ve lost count of the days where it’s galled me that I can sit and talk with the legendary Archangel Michael