"Yes, I'm preparing my presentation for this evening. I can't decide what to talk about. I don't know if people really want to hear what I have to say about subject. Maybe I should just quote from published research on topic and let it go at that," I replied despondently.

"It's none of my business, but why don't you just speak from your heart what you've encountered personally?" "Oh, that would be too easy!" I laughed. This bold, mysterious advisor had shifted me out of my doom and gloom. I was grateful for that. "Besides, people don't care what a twenty-year-old knows about healing. I'd better adhere to what experts and professionals have to say."

"Suit yourself, but I've fared much better sticking to what I've discovered firsthand. May I tell you a story?" I nodded agreement. I was thankful for any distraction at this point. A tale sounded like perfect antidote to seriousness that had overtaken me. Through a personal story, my candid friend offered most precise and useful advice regarding communication I have ever received.

"Most of my early life growing up in Morocco, I was sickly," Michael began soberly. "After years of searching and experimenting in my quest for health, I came across a book by George Osawa, originator of a philosophy of healthy living called macrobiotics. Encouraged by my discovery, I devoured all books by Osawa I could find. By eating, thinking and living macrobiotic way of life, I transformed ailing youth I once was."

"I felt robust and alive again," Michael enthused. "My recovery was so miraculous and complete, I decided to devote my life to helping others in same way George Osawa helped me. With great exuberance, I began to give public presentations about macrobiotic system of eating and living. I described in detail how sickly I'd been. I expounded upon vitality I now enjoy and how blessed I am. Hundreds of desperate North Africans were attracted to my talks- people seeking restoration of fitness that I achieved."

Michael's poise and sincerity in recounting his tale to me explained his immediate popularity on lecture circuit. His compassion and dedication was palpable in cool night air.

"But as more and more people came to my talks and my reputation grew throughout Arab world, I began to develop a severe throat problem, " Michael continued. "At first, my throat would just itch. I coughed a lot during my speeches. As I continued to address larger and larger crowds, tickle in my throat became an acute ache. My voice gradually became harsh and grating. I was stubborn and intent upon my holy mission to help others. I insisted on keeping up my hectic speaking schedule. Finally, in middle of evening lecturing to largest audience I'd ever assembled, my throat started to bleed. Of course, in my arrogance, I attempted to keep going. Eventually I was coughing up so much blood, I had to stop talking for evening."

As tenacious stranger paused, I drew a quick, halting breath. I felt need to bolster myself before he resumed. I was visibly rattled by focus of his story. I was about to lecture on same topic of macrobiotics to several hundred anguished souls also searching for help. The similarities were remarkable; coincidence unnerving. My hands and legs were trembling. I grabbed wooden railing of stairs to stabilize myself. Why was I reacting so strongly to his story? I asked myself. I was afraid to know.

"After a frustrating week of saving my voice and waiting for my throat to heal, I began lecturing again," Michael carried on with his cautionary tale. "The same problem appeared after just ten minutes at podium. This became a pattern for next few months. I'd reluctantly take time off for my throat to heal. Then I'd return to my speaking schedule. Shortly into my next talk, I'd begin coughing up blood again and be forced to stop. It was extremely frustrating, to say least!

I had my first two children on either side of my twenty-third and twenty-fifth birthdays. I had always assumed that by time I was forty, I'd have a ton of freedom to finally push forward with my dreams of becoming a motivational writer and speaker. It really looked like that was way my life was going to go too.

I fell in love with a man when I was in my mid-thirties and he was in his mid-forties. We were very much in love and planning to get married. I actually found myself wishing I could have his baby. I hadn't felt like that in many years. We were discussing whether or not to have a child together. We both loved idea, but we were also looking at reality of our lives, our finances, our circumstances, and especially our ages. Was this really something to even consider so late in game? Could we say yes to another child? Could we say no?

As it turned out, I got pregnant despite using two forms of birth control before we could even make up our minds if we were going to have a child together or not. We decided that it must be fate that we'd have one more. We agreed that I'd work from home on my writing career while carrying our child. I was nervous about having a baby when I was so involved in my work, but I was also so grateful that decision had been made by a higher power than me.

I had been talking with guardian angels for many years by that time and felt a spiritual calling to become a writer and to tell stories that my angels wanted told. I had been told which books to write and was working on an outline for one of them when a little voice whispered to me. It told me to go lay down on couch and meditate because it had something to tell me. I thought it was one of my angels, so I raced over to couch to hear what they had to say to me.

The entity told me that he was my unborn child. I saw a vision of a darling two-year-old boy with magical eyes. He looked at me like he had delicious little secrets. He said that he was going to be a boy and that we used to know him as Michael. He then told me what his new name would be. He also assured me that when they ran tests to check for birth defects, that I'd see that he was going to be strong and healthy. I had nothing to worry about.