PREFACE
"What would convince me of the existence of God?" I had asked myself this question numerous times -- as a child suffering the wretched treatments of experimental cancer drugs, as a nurse burying hundreds of innocent children plagued with the same disease, and, ultimately, as a skeptic defiantly disavowing any spiritual involvement in a series of unbelievable "coincidences." Even though I had somewhat miraculous obtained world-class physical strength, I had little, if any, reason to believe in the existence of God, spirits, angels or soul mates. If anything, I had ample evidence to demonstrate that a truly loving and almighty creator did not exist as, certainly, the pain and suffering I had endured and observed would not have been permitted.
I marveled at how the blindly faithful worshipped the invisible without a shred of proof that there was anything valuable to worship. More than once I chuckled at the various religious rituals that seemed to fly in the face of basic common sense. Certainly levelheaded and practical people could see that they were putting their faith in something that simply did not exist. Or were they?
Few things teach as well as experience. In late 1994, this truism was never so real. Stunned by the remnants of a disastrous and life-changing series of events, my world was turned upside down, twisted and contorted, shattering my very perception of reality. Crashing into my once practical and measurable world was the mystical and unexplainable. Unwilling to accept the "spirits" on faith, I set out with a vengeance to prove that the spiritual world did not exist. I was bound and determined to oppose my slide into the herd of docile believing sheep. I would demonstrate, using all the tools and techniques of modern science, that these faint whisperings and subtle mysterious circumstances were, in fact, fully explainable -- the make-believe of a woman in distress.
Of all things, my path led to the television set and to a documentary about the presumed burial cloth of Jesus. This revered relic, known as the Shroud of Turin, was steeped in controversy. Many believing its etheric full-body image was indeed an authentic portrayal of the crucified Christ while many others believed it was nothing more than a medieval forgery. Of course, logic dictated that it was a clever hoax but, something deep inside me, refused to let me dismiss it so easily. Something, or someone, kept pushing me to pursue this ancient artifact. It all seemed so futile no one in history had unraveled the mysteries inherent in the cloth's image. The most studied artifact in history remained a categorical mystery. Who was I to come along to answer the most profound questions about the Shroud?
Perhaps, however, this would be my chance to answer my pressing life question -- what would convince me of the existence of God? Psychics, mediums, channelers and the like are all handicapped by the fact that they obtain information that is known elsewhere the sitter, a living relative, a book. To me, this invalidates the claims of proof of a supernatural origin of the information. After all, maybe they were just reading someone else's mind. But if information was provided to someone for which NO ONE else alive knew, then this, to me, was proof that something, or someone, existed beyond the visages of our material world. This, to me, was proof of God evidence of the soul. Could the final understanding of the Shroud of Turin provide me with such proof? Was the very essence of the soul being revealed in such a way that it was now scientifically testable? It seemed preposterous, outrageous, unbelievable and unimaginable but it happened.
