Let me start out by saying that this is a most unusual story. In 2018, while taking an online course on inner healing as a part of my Global Awakening School class assignments, I was required to write a letter to a friend. However, I did not have anyone in mind to write to, and my assignment was due in four days. On Sunday morning, during my prayer time, I asked the Holy Spirit to guide me, and I felt a strong urge to call Sam. I heard a voice whispering in my spirit that “Sam is dying.” I was skeptical at first, but the voice repeated the message a couple of times. So, I decided to call Sam, but he did not answer, and I left him a message.
Later that day, not Sam, but his daughter returned my call. She informed me that Sam was admitted to the hospital and that they did not know what was wrong with him. He had collapsed five times over the last couple of days. His prognosis looked grim. Peggy and I decided we would visit him on Tuesday. At that moment, I knew it was Sam I was to write my “Letter to a Friend.”
On Tuesday, we started our drive to Greenwich Hospital in Connecticut with my letter in hand. During the last 10 minutes of our 2-hour drive, Sam’s wife Mary called and said Sam had just expired. What do we do now? I thought. Do we go back home after traveling this far?
Peggy and I decided to keep going as planned. As soon as we arrived, we went to the reception desk and asked for Sam’s room, which was located on the third floor. However, I started feeling uneasy. I looked at Peggy, wondering if she was thinking what I was thinking. This was undoubtedly one of the most unconventional things we had ever done.
The elevator door opened, we exited, and we walked toward Sam’s hospital room. Then, looking at Peggy, I sought eye contact, desperately wanting confirmation whether I was to read my letter to Sam or hand it to his wife. I felt very uncomfortable, to say the least. Peggy, however, assured me it was okay to ask Mary’s permission to read my letter to him. “I think we are here for a purpose,” she said.
Outside the room, we greeted Mary with a hug and our condolences. I explained my desire to share the letter I had written to Sam. Sensing my compassion and burden for him, she permitted me, recognizing that Sam and I had a special godly relationship.
We entered the room. Mary stood near the foot of Sam’s bed while her brother stood some distance off but within earshot. Sam’s skin was yellow and ashen, his mouth open, eyes nearly shut, all signs of life gone. Sam had not officially been pronounced dead yet, although it was pretty apparent. His body lay lifeless for more than 20 to 30 minutes before our arrival.
With Peggy on one side of the bed and me on the other, I read my “Letter to a Friend.” I was saddened and tearful as I read it. There were times when I hesitated, my voice breaking. I knew Mary was listening, and as I read on, I noticed she, too, was becoming emotional. At that moment, my heart went out to her, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was listening in as well.
After I read my letter to Sam, Mary left Sam’s bedside. Peggy and I then laid hands on Sam and began ministering quietly. We both felt a strong anointing come upon us to speak life back into Sam. I’ve never prayed before for someone who had died. Courage just took on a whole new meaning for me.
Peggy began speaking, over and over, “Your Father loves you; you’re a good son.” She had no idea why she needed to say it continually, but it felt right.
At that moment, we both saw and felt Sam’s body shudder; his arm jerked under the light touch of my hand on his arm. Peggy and I both looked at each other. Jumpin’ Jiminy! “Did you see what I just saw?”
My expectations were now elevated. I truly wanted to see more. I wanted to see Lazarus raised from the dead. But as we continued to listen and pray, I distinctively heard in my spirit – “let him go.” After hearing it again several times, I looked up at Peggy in resignation and said, “Let him go.”
We spoke with Sam’s wife afterward in the hallway. She shared that Sam’s parents had divorced, and his mother never allowed him to contact his father. She went on to say that Sam’s father died of a broken heart, having never been allowed to speak with his son Sam again. On Sam’s deathbed, the Holy Spirit led us to pray repeatedly for the Father’s LOVE to be poured into Sam, saying that Sam is a good son. “Your Father loves you.”
It all made sense now! Isn’t it wonderful knowing that God is still in the restoration business? Even on his deathbed, God was still ministering to Sam, to a place that was an unresolved emotional wound in his heart.
The timing was perfect, even when Peggy had to make a rest stop just before we got the call from Mary. Had we arrived any earlier, we would have run into their priest, and I don’t think I would have had the courage to pray as freely as I did. It would have been awkward. Had I arrived after the physician officially pronounced Sam dead, we may not have had the opportunity to pray for Sam.
We said our condolences and moved towards the elevators, the two of us marveling at the FATHER’s LOVE and desire to love us into eternity.
Coincidence or God-incidence?
The story clearly shows that every event was guided by God’s hand. When deciding who to write my letter to, God intervened by subliminally suggesting my friend’s name by distracting me with the message, “Bill, Sam is dying.” I would not have written my letter to Sam if I had not heard God’s voice. The fact that Peggy and I continued to the hospital after hearing about Sam’s passing and arrived there at the perfect time was not a coincidence. The repeated prayers for the Father’s Love for Sam were not mere coincidences either. God wanted to ensure Sam knew he was a good son, even in death and for eternity.
Copyright 2018
by Bill and Peggy Hutzel
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Dear Bill and Peggy, That was very beautifully written. I felt like I was right there in the room with both of you and “Sam”.. Geri
Wow. I am truly in awe by the courage that you had received from the Holy Spirit to both read your letter and lay hands on your friend. It is true that we do have to sometimes let go of our loved ones. However, it is never easy to do so. But your faith and trust in God put you in that room at that time to witness to both Mary and her brother. What a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing.