The Truth of the Heart…read more
This is not a pitch. It's not persuasion. It's not something polished to win you over.
This is my truth.
I've walked through valleys that don't make sense unless you've been there yourself. The kind where grief doesn't just visit, it moves in. The kind where loss rewrites you. I have faced the sudden, world-shattering loss of my mother and my younger siblings--a grief so heavy I thought it defined me. I truly believed it would lock me away in an unreal, guilt-ridden, and grief-stricken way forever. I've fought demons, internal and external, and somehow I still chose to believe in something simple: love, kindness, and truth. Those are the only things I've ever been sure I wouldn't get wrong.
And truth matters most.
That's why I didn't rush toward Lorri. I watched first. I listened. Not just with my ears, but with my instincts, with that quiet inner compass that doesn't lie even when everything else does. Because let's be real, a lot of us have been burned. Gaslit. Misled by people claiming insight, claiming care, claiming they "know." I've seen it. I've felt it. I've learned the hard way what isn't real.
So I took my time.
And what I found in her wasn't performance. It wasn't pattern recognition dressed up as intuition. It wasn't someone fishing for reactions or feeding people what they want to hear. She is someone of immense class and elegance, yet she remains completely transparent--someone anyone can relate to, no matter what walk of life you come from.
She calls it straight.
Lorri taps into something deeper than surface-level reading. She speaks to the core of you, the part you don't always show, the part you sometimes don't even understand yourself. And she doesn't soften it just to make it easier to hear. She gives you what you need, not what comforts you.
That kind of honesty is rare.
She gives more of herself than most people ever would. There's a steadiness to her, a presence that doesn't shake, a kind of grace that doesn't need to announce itself. Sharp, grounded, real. No performance. No mask.
And there's something else. Something harder to explain without sounding poetic, but I'm not here to dilute this. To me, she is an Angel in human form. There is no better proof of her spirit than the fact that she is a midwife. If she is good enough for God and the Angels to choose her to have babies birthed into her hands--to be the first frequency a new soul feels and hears--that says everything.
When she speaks, you feel it. The noise drops out. It's like the world steps back and for a moment, you're actually seen. Not scanned. Not analyzed. Seen.
I've never told her most of this.
She doesn't know that I've spent nearly five years dealing with agoraphobia. That something in me shifted almost overnight and changed how I move through the world. Most people would never guess it. I don't lead with it. But I'm telling you because it matters.
Every time I leave her presence, whether you want to call it a live, a session, or just being in her frequency, I walk away stronger. Clearer. More grounded. Not fixed, not magically healed, but undeniably better than I was before. I know now that my grief doesn't have to be my prison.
That's real.
I'm not paid. I'm not affiliated. I'm not trying to recruit you into anything. I'm just a man who has taken more hits than most and still chooses to see the glass as full, even when there's nothing in it.
And I know how I feel after experiencing her.
So take this however you want. You don't have to believe me. You don't have to trust a word I'm saying. That's not my goal. I'm not here to convince you.
I'm here to tell you what I know.
If your light feels dimmed, if life has drained you, if you've been searching for something real in a space full of noise and imitation, then don't listen to me.
Listen to yourself.
Pay attention the way I did. Watch. Feel. Let your own truth rise up and meet you.
And if you find what I found, then you'll understand without needing anyone else to explain it.
We all deserve truth. We all deserve kindness. We all deserve to feel seen, accepted, and understood without conditions.
And if someone can help you reconnect to parts of yourself you thought were gone, or maybe never even knew were there, then that matters more than any label you put on them.
For me, that person is Lorri.
This is my experience. My testimony. My truth.
May you find your own.
May your light return to you in full.
And may you feel, in some real and undeniable way, the kind of love and clarity that reminds you who you are.
Sincerely,
Chancellor Abbott
