As a physician, I sutured hundreds of wounds. I didn’t heal wounds; I merely approximated the tissues with sutures. Biology, care and time healed the wounds, and the sutures were removed. 

As an intuitive mentor, I don’t heal souls. I merely help people approximate the edges of their spiritual wounds. Source, light, love, and time do the healing, and I move on.

When I stopped seeing patients in the ER, people who’d read my book or heard me speak asked advice about their spiritual path. Frequently, I felt their answers and spoke them.

“I think you’re a healer,” Travis said.

I didn’t know what he meant, but I resisted his suggestion. I’d never thought of myself as a healer, even in the ER. In my mind, the only healer was God.

“There’s only one Healer,” I said. 

“I disagree,” Travis said. “I think you’re a healer, and I think you should ask permission to use the word.”

I listened to his advice. Later that day, I asked. I soon recognized a Divine Masculine Presence. He’d come to me many times. He smiled.

“Is it okay to call myself a healer?” I said.

“Of course,” He said with a chuckle. “I made you a healer.”

With those words came a flood of understanding. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t diminished by my success. My being a healer didn’t make him less.

Now I understand more. I’ve been a healer for decades. We are all healers when we help one another. Travis helped me heal. He is a healer. After my sacred experience, I put Healer on my business card. I’m still learning what it means.