A Moving Message

One of my favorite ways to stay sharp with Lenormand is by pulling cards daily. It’s a simple yet powerful practice that strengthens my intuition and deepens my relationship with the cards. My question is almost always the same:

"What do I need to know about today?"

A question like this often provides insights that only make sense in hindsight. At first glance, the message might seem vague or disconnected from my day, but later, the meaning reveals itself—like a puzzle piece snapping into place. That’s one of the things I love most about Lenormand: it doesn’t just reflect what’s happening now; it reveals what’s about to unfold.

One reading earlier this year reminded me just how accurate and surprising these cards can be.

That morning, I asked my usual question and pulled the following cards:

Ship - Man - Birds - Key - House

I studied them for a moment. At first, the meaning seemed clear enough—someone was traveling or possibly moving house. But no one in my household had any plans to move. Of my three sons, one was too young to move out on his own, one wasn’t yet employed, and the other was living with a friend five hours from home in a big city. As far as I knew, there were no shifts coming. Their message didn’t quite fit with anything happening in my life at the time, so I made a mental note of them and went about my day.

A few hours later, my phone buzzed. It was my oldest son.

During our conversation, he dropped a question I hadn’t been expecting:

"Mom, things aren’t going so well up here. Can I move back home?"

And just like that, everything clicked into place.

Read literally, the cards had told me I would have a conversation about a man moving and the solution would be home, which was exactly what had transpired. 

This experience was yet another reminder of why I love working with these cards. Lenormand doesn’t just reflect what we already know—it reveals what’s waiting to unfold. Sometimes, the message is obvious. Other times, we don’t recognize its meaning until events catch up to what the cards have already shown us.

If you’ve ever wondered what’s ahead, what hidden influences are shaping your path, or if you need clarity on a situation, a Lenormand reading can provide the answers. Whether you have a specific question or simply want to see what the cards reveal, I’d love to help you uncover the messages meant for you.

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Divination, Denial, and a Dress I’ll Never Wear

What happens when we only see what we want to see? This is the story of how Lenormand predicted my whirlwind romance—and my heartbreak.

After my divorce, I stayed out of the dating pool for a decade, focused on raising my children. But with my youngest now fifteen, I felt ready to dip my toe back in and see what was out there.

On January 1, I pulled Lenormand cards for the year ahead. Just three: Man + Dog + Letter. After some research and trusting my intuition, I interpreted the cards as a sign that I would meet a faithful man from a distance. I laughed and put them away—I couldn’t imagine it would be that easy.

But it was.

A little over a month later I created a dating profile. Almost immediately, I matched with a man, and our conversation flowed effortlessly. He was clever, attractive, open, and respectful. The only catch? He lived four hours away.

Skeptical of my luck and my own judgment, I pulled more cards: Man + Woman + House. A relationship with a strong foundation. Encouraged by the reading, I took the leap.

Our connection moved quickly. From a few messages to a first date, then a few months later, he moved in. Not long after, we were engaged. He was thoughtful, kind, and supportive. He remembered my favorite Dunkin’ Donuts order, fixed things around the house, and made life feel easier. I finally felt secure.

We planned for a long engagement to save up, but then I found the dress. A beautiful design from a boutique in Hong Kong. It felt meant to be, so I bought it. But as I eagerly awaited its arrival, I had a nagging feeling. Would it live up to my expectations? I turned to my cards.

Whip + Lily + Bouquet + Cross + Coffin.

My heart sank. I interpreted it as an obsession over the dress, a burden that would lead to an ending. I told myself it simply meant the dress wouldn’t be what I hoped, and I might have to return it.

But the cards had a bigger message. One I wasn’t yet ready to see.

Just ten days after my reading, the relationship crumbled. A disagreement about spending time with my friends spiraled into something bigger. He refused to talk it out. Within 48 hours, he had rented a U-Haul and was gone. In an almost Dickensian twist, the would-be-wedding dress arrived that same day, looking nothing like the picture online. 

Even though the cards had warned me, I had been too blinded by hope to see their truth. The cards tell us what we need to know. The question is: Are we ready to listen?

If you’re at a crossroads in love, career, or life, don’t wait for hindsight to bring clarity. I offer personalized Lenormand readings to help you see the full picture and navigate your journey with confidence. Book a reading today!

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Do You Want To Know a Secret?

I’m going to let you in on a little secret.

Sometimes, I do readings for my family—without them knowing. Not out of trickery, but for practice. My favorite topic is job interviews, but I keep my insights to myself. Why? Because I don’t want to interfere with fate. If someone thinks they’re guaranteed a job, they might walk in overconfident. If they believe they’ll fail, they may not put in any effort at all.

Recently, my middle son—an up-and-coming welder—was searching for a stable, full-time day position. The night before his interview at a factory, I turned to my Lenormand deck to see what it had to say.

Anchor + Fish + Fox + Bouquet + Stars

My interpretation? A great opportunity for stability. He’d get an offer, but there was a catch—it wouldn’t be the day shift he expected. I took a photo for the timestamp and kept it to myself.

The next afternoon, he walked in from his interview, shaking his head.

“Mom, it wasn’t what they told me at all.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“They said it was a day shift position, but all they had open were evenings and nights.”

“Did they offer you a job?”

“Yeah… but I don’t know if I want it. I wanted days.”

That’s when I pulled out my phone and showed him the reading from the night before. His response?

“Those cards are ridiculous, Mom.”

And yet… they had spoken the truth.

This is the magic of Lenormand. It doesn’t just predict the future—it reveals the real story beneath the surface. Whether it’s job opportunities, relationships, or unexpected twists, the cards always have something to say.

Are you ready to hear what they have in store for you? Book a reading today and uncover what’s waiting just around the corner.

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Somewhere Only We Know

I’m going to preface this with a trigger warning for suicide. If you’re sensitive to that topic, you might want to skip this one.

Some readings fade with time. Others never leave you.

K came to me with a heavy heart, her worry focused on J, a close friend. At the time, I was still new to Lenormand, keeping my readings simple—just three-card pulls. I shuffled my deck and drew the cards: Garden + Coffin + Tree. The news was grim.

I flipped through my reference books, hoping I was misinterpreting it. But the message remained clear. I saw death. “A death that will impact a lot of people—after a long struggle with addiction or depression.”

The three dots on our messaging app danced. Then K responded: “I’m afraid he’s going to kill himself in prison.”

I had no words. I couldn’t dispute it.

Three months later, her fears became reality. J died by suicide in prison—surrounded by people, yet completely alone. Addiction and depression had weighed on him for years, and when incarceration closed in around him, he saw no way out.

The news shattered me. I was that little girl again—the one terrified of damnation after shaking a Magic 8 Ball. Had I done something wrong? Had predicting it somehow caused his death?

For nearly a month, I was hesitant every time I reached for my deck. I feared seeing those same cards again, especially when reading for my loved ones. Meanwhile, K was reeling from her loss. I wanted to help, to bring her some measure of peace. But how?

The recent, unshakable experience surrounding my mother-in-law’s ashes forced me to reconsider my connection to the spiritual world. Could I use my newfound ability to reach J? Without telling K, I pulled cards with him in mind. The Tower.

Isolation. Loneliness.

How lonely he must have felt, to take his own life. For centuries, many faiths condemned suicide as an unforgivable sin, dooming souls to purgatory. Was he trapped somewhere he couldn’t escape? I couldn’t bring myself to tell K what I found, knowing it wouldn’t ease her grief.

And yet, something in me wasn’t ready to give up. One day, as we chatted about my growing ability to communicate with spirits, I decided to try again. This time, I asked the cards directly about him:

Dog + Anchor + Tower + House + Coffin.

“He feels stuck,” I told her. “Isolated. His home is death now—or maybe, his home is at the end of everything.”

K agreed. “He always felt like he was never meant for this world.”

Then, I tried something I’d never done before. I focused on his name and tried to recall a photo of him K had sent me a year or so before. I reached through the Veil and felt I’d made contact, despite never having met him. What do you want to tell her? I asked, then pulled again.

Bear + Book + Key + Sun + Clover.

I hesitated. “Was he… like a teddy bear?”

K responded, “I called him Bear.”

A shiver ran through me, but I pressed on. “He—the Bear—wants you to know that you were his answer. That you were a light in his life. And the Clover… it speaks of brief happiness. I don’t know what he means by ‘the answer,’ but maybe you do?”

“I do.”

J had once confided in her, convinced he would never be worthy of love, never find someone who truly cared. But she had proved him wrong. She was the answer to his deepest fear. Even if just for a fleeting moment, she had brought him light and love in a life otherwise filled with darkness. We were both in tears by the end of the reading. 

That night, I put my cards away with a new understanding. I realized this gift wasn’t just about glimpsing the future. With my newfound ability, I realized it was also about connection—between past, present, and futures, the living and the dead. And sometimes, the right message at the right time could bring peace to both.

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Ashes to Ashes: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Spirit Communication

Some truths announce themselves in whispers, in flickering shadows at the edge of perception. Mine arrived in a way I could never have expected—with a witness I never would have chosen. One thing my ex-husband and I can now agree on, is that the dead don’t always stay quiet.

At eighteen, I secretly eloped with my high school sweetheart; and that’s not even the unbelievable part of this story.

Understandably, my new mother-in-law, whom we’ll call Selene, was not thrilled. Her only child had married without her knowledge, and to say she wasn’t my biggest fan would be an understatement. Selene was a complex woman—overbearing, intrusive, prone to extreme mood swings, and even attempted to have our marriage annulled. Yet, she also loved her grandchildren fiercely, was a phenomenal cook, and had a beautiful singing voice.

This story requires a bit of setup, so bear with me—I promise it’s worth it.

As a teenager, Selene was groomed by an older man, whom we’ll call Rick. At sixteen, she married him, and soon after, my ex-husband was born. Unsurprisingly, Rick was controlling and abusive. By the time my ex was two, Selene had fled with him for their safety. She spent the rest of her life putting as much distance as possible between Rick and the two of them. If another plane of existence had been an option, I’m sure she would have taken it. Over the years, she remarried three more times, finally finding a good match in a man we’ll call Winston.

Fast forward—my own marriage crumbled, and I entered my thirties as a single mother. While my soon-to-be ex and I were in the state-mandated separation period preceding a divorce, Selene passed away unexpectedly. Her final wishes were to be cremated, with her ashes split between Winston and my ex-husband. Winston later remarried and moved on, and we lost touch. That should have been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Nine years later, I received an unexpected message on social media. It was Winston. His new wife wanted the ex-wife’s remains out of their house, and my ex-husband had never claimed his portion of Selene’s ashes. Since my ex had deleted his accounts, Winston reached out to the only person he could find—me.

The familiar sting of cleaning up my ex’s messes returned. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get involved, so, I turned to my Lenormand deck. I don’t recall every card I pulled, but one stood out: The Bear—a card associated with mothers and overbearing personalities. Selene fit that description perfectly. I shuffled and pulled again. The Bear. Again. The Bear. And again. The Bear.

For context, the odds of drawing the same card four times in a row in a 36-card deck while drawing five cards at a time are 1 in 2,700—or 0.037%. That’s when I knew: Selene had a message for me.

I picked up my phone and texted my ex-husband. He responded with some chilling news—his biological father, Rick, had just entered hospice.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Of all days, Selene reached out now. Rick was about to cross over, and she was not about to share the afterlife with her abuser. Two days later, my ex finally retrieved her ashes. That same day, Rick passed away.

I haven’t heard from Selene since her wishes were finally carried out. I like to think she’s finally at peace. I believe she came to me because my cards could serve as her voice—like a non-verbal child using a communication board. This is not a traditional use of Lenormand, but after significant study, it’s a language I understand.

Since then, I’ve had spirits come through occasionally during readings—some clearer than others. It doesn’t happen every time, and I don’t offer it as a standalone service, as I’m still honing this ability. But if a spirit comes through in a reading, I will deliver the message.

Curious? So am I. If you’re open to the unknown and understand that there are no guarantees, I’d be happy to explore the possibilities with you.

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From Fearful to Flourishing

My path to divination has been long, winding, and full of false starts. Raised Southern Baptist with a touch of Pentecostal influence, I was taught from an early age that fortune-telling was dangerous—evil, even. Still, the mystery of it beckoned.

When I was eight or nine, I begged for a Magic 8 Ball, and to my surprise, my father agreed. Fevered shouts of apoplectic, crimson-faced preachers looming over me from pulpits echoed in my ears, and the fear—and the possibility—of knowing the future was too heavy a burden for my young shoulders. I hid the toy away in a drawer until my parents eventually sold it at a yard sale for a quarter.

Even in young adulthood, I still felt the pull of magic, mysticism, and spirituality. I wanted to discover some hidden power within myself that would change my circumstances. Yet, fear again won out over fascination, and left me frozen with indecision. Was it wrong to want this? How could it be wrong when even the Almighty Himself bestowed the gift of prophecy on some?

Life carried on—I built a family, explored my spirituality, and became captivated by tarot. I had heard the old myth that your first deck must be gifted, and in my quiet, private interest, no such gift ever came. Daily survival—feeding schedules, school projects, helping choose outfits for middle school dances, graduations, a divorce, and subsequent single motherhood—kept me rooted firmly in the present.

It wasn’t until the Pandemic that I decided to give divination a try and claim my own inner power. I finally bought my first tarot deck. But then, I encountered another roadblock: 78 meanings to memorize, plus reversals? It felt insurmountable to my perpetually overwhelmed, 40-something brain. I admired the imagery but soon set the cards aside.

I came to learn about Lenormand via podcast while working my day job in a file room in Southwest Virginia, a far cry from the parlors in Europe where it was created. A divination system with 36 cards and no reversals sounded more feasible to me. While there’s much more to Lenormand than I originally thought, what was meant to be a stepping stone to tarot quickly became a love affair.

Placed in advanced English classes from an early age, I had always been drawn to storytelling, and Lenormand was exactly that—a language of archetypes, where meanings shifted based on the surrounding cards and the question asked. Once I learned to read their messages, their accuracy astounded me. They foretold job interview outcomes, the course of illnesses, even the rise and fall of my last relationship—months before I had even created a profile on a dating app. Unexpectedly, the cards have also helped me cope with anxiety. If I’m feeling anxious about an event, I’ll pull cards on it. Even if the outcome isn’t ideal, I feel prepared to face whatever comes.

We all have choices. My role isn’t to judge but to illuminate the path before you, offering clarity and discretion. If you've ever felt drawn to divination but uncertain where to begin, I understand. I’ve been there. If you've ever wondered if the cards have a message for you, all you have to do is ask.

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