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Is it presumptuous to say Heaven Letters are from God? Perhaps the presumption is to say that God is not talking to us – all of us – all the time. So we say again, Heaven Letters are letters from God, emailed to you every day.
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"BEAUTIFUL! We are all able to speak to God. Yes, Gloria, help people hear the still small voice…"

Bernie S. Siegel, M.D., Author
Love, Medicine, & Miracles

Everything God says is meant for you, and each day’s Heaven Letter contains a new message God wants you to hear that day. For people of all faiths, or of none, Heaven Letters are like a walk you take with God. With each step, you come closer until you find there is no distance between you and God.
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"You are a delightful toast I raise to Myself. I raise My glass so high that no one misses the sight of it, and all clink their cups with Mine. This is a unique toast We make. We clink stars. We clink the Sun and the Moon. We clink to Our Impermeable Oneness. To Our Oneness."
"How you deal with Me is how you deal in life. How you meet Me and how far or close, that is your story. Or how you run away, for how long and how We meet again. It is a love story, Our story."

Today's Heavenletter

Your Nearest Neighbor

Heavenletter #4093 Published on: February 8, 2012

Come right up. Enter My heart here. Here is where I AM, and here is where you ARE. You belong in My heart. Indeed, you have never been anywhere else. Ask Me to mentor you. Ask Me anything you want. Tell Me anything you want. It is all music to My ears.

You love to hear from those you love. So do I. Tell me anything. Say hello. It doesn't have to be newsworthy what you say to Me. Say, "God, God, God," and I am happy. I love to hear you say My Name. I love to hear your voice. I love to hear you talk to Me.

A Beautiful Story

The Story of the Farmer and the Hat

The ways God can appear are limitless. Through other people is one of them. Here’s a true story:

A farmer at our local Farmer’s Market had a blanket laid out on the ground, filled with wonderful vegetables, some in baskets, some just in piles.

I held up a giant zucchini, and I asked him how much.

The man smiled and said, "It's by the hat. It's the hat method." I didn’t know what he was talking about.

He pointed to a big old farmer's type hat, filled with dollar bills, that sat on the edge of the blanket. “You just put in what feels right to you,” he said.

"Give me an idea," I said.