Signs from Heaven | When the World Cries with You | Becoming CarmaQuanTarot EP. 9

Welcome to Becoming CarmaQuanTarot.
My journey didn’t start the way you might think; it started with a search for protection instead of fear.
Today, I work to bring you messages guided by love, light, and the highest good—not what we want to hear, but what we need to know.
I’m your host, and I finally realized I wasn’t being followed—I was being supported.

My mom passed when I was six months pregnant.

A couple of months later, when I was nine months pregnant, I was still shattered by grief and trying to survive it.

For over a month, things had been happening.

The smoke detectors kept going off randomly. We changed batteries over and over, moved them around the house, replaced them again. Even with new batteries, it kept happening. I had a feeling it might be my mom—but I wasn’t convinced.

Then there was her car.

She had given me her car, and the alarm would randomly go off, day and night, while it was just sitting there.

All of this was happening.

And I still didn’t have what I needed.

So I’m nine months pregnant, sitting in the bathtub, bawling my eyes out, talking to my mom who had passed a couple of months before, saying:

You have not sent me a definite sign that you are okay. You promised you would…

And then the candle on the back of the toilet started shaking.

Not flickering.
Shaking—loud.

I panicked. I pulled the towel bar off the wall trying to get out of the tub. I was halfway down the stairs—naked—when I stopped.

Because I knew.

It was my mom answering me.

And I yelled,

You did not have to scare the shit out of me, did you?

About a month later, I picked up some photos I’d had developed.

I opened them in the car, and it was the last day my mom got dressed and wanted to go out to eat. By the time we got to the restaurant, she fell asleep and couldn’t stay awake. It was one of the last days she was coherent—able to talk, aware of what was going on.

I completely lost it.

I was sitting there pregnant, crying so hard people could see me. People came over asking if I needed help, and I was so embarrassed I called work and said I had to go home.

I got into bed and kept crying—and then the biggest storm rolled in.

It started raining hard, even though rain wasn’t in the forecast. While I was crying, I looked up and the sun was out at the same time.

They called it a pop‑up shower.

I believe that storm happened because the world was crying with me—and she was crying with me.

Then there was the feather.

My son was about two. He came to me covered in lotion. I asked him to show me what he got into. He led me to a spare room where he’d been “drawing” on a mirror.

I bent down to pick up the lotion.

And there was a black feather.

I had asked my mom for a feather the night before.

Then came Father’s Day.

My ex was being a jerk, but I still went ahead with the plans—a big fish fry.

None of the outside outlets would work. I reset breakers, checked everything. Nothing worked.

I ran an extension cord through the house just to get the fryer going and said out loud,

Mom, if you’re messing with the electric, I’ll leave it alone, please.

I had a strong feeling it was her—because he didn’t deserve the effort.

Later, I went to make margaritas and my blender exploded. The side burst out and went everywhere.

I said,

Alright mom, I get it—but damn, stop now already.

I knew she didn’t approve.

Later, my cousin asked what she should do because I always talked about getting signs from my mom.

I told her to ask for a feather—even though she has chickens. I said it would be a feather that stood out.

She didn’t believe me.

Three days later, she called. She had swept her driveway and sidewalks—everything was clean. They walked to get ice cream, and on the way back there was a feather on the sidewalk.

She tried to kick it away.

It wouldn’t move.

She tried again.

It still wouldn’t move.

When she bent down to pick it up, she remembered what I said—and she knew.

Over time, I noticed another pattern.

Before anything major happened—before a death in the family, even before I lost my job—a rabbit would appear.

Sometimes one would come into the garage and just sit there looking at me.

I knew those were signs from my mom that something was about to happen—but that it would be okay.

So when my cousin passed and I didn’t get a rabbit, it threw me completely off.

I didn’t get a sign from my mom.

Later, I remembered the cat that had come into my garage and just sat there, staring at me.

And then it clicked.

My mom would not have left my cousin’s side. She was like a second mom to her.

So my mom sent Aunt Peggy to give me the sign.

Aunt Peggy didn’t use rabbits.

She used a cat.

I didn’t understand it at first.
Later, I did.

I even asked a medium friend who was with me, and she drew a picture that looked just like my aunt.

And I knew.

Sometimes we still want confirmation—because it’s harder to read our own signs, our own people.

But they’re always there.

If any of this resonates and you want a grounded space for readings and clarity, that’s why I created the Inner Circle.
We meet on the first Thursday of every month.

I’m no longer reacting to what I lived through; I’m listening to what I’m being guided toward.
Thank you for joining me on this journey of Becoming CarmaQuanTarot. We’ll continue the story next time.
And remember: words are spells, energy is sacred, and intention is the magic.