Image by: Clyde Ho on Unsplash
Sometimes light breaks through at the very moment we feel most lost. This story is about one of those moments—a voice that met me in fear and has carried me ever since.
(Part 2 of a 3-part Series. Part 1: Belief: Reflections on Angels, God, and What Lies Beyond)
Belief: Everything Is Going To Be All Right
When a Voice in a Hospital Corridor Changed My Life
Some stories shape us forever. They arrive in a single moment of fear or uncertainty, and yet they echo through the years, becoming part of who we are.
Tonight I want to share one such moment—a time in a hospital corridor when everything in me was unraveling. Then something happened that I still carry with me nearly fifteen years later.
At Munson Hospital, we were moving Bill to the heart unit because he had an infection in his spine and buttocks that wasn’t responding to treatment.
The doctor, Amy, thought he needed a private room for recovery, and maybe, I suspected, she wanted me to have the chance to stay with him.
Outside, a foot of snow had fallen. Traverse City was nearly shut down, and leaving the hospital was treacherous.
Inside, I was numb with fear, hurrying after the stretcher that carried Bill and all of his things. Five days with almost no reaction from him.
I needed to call his daughter, his sister, and my family. Obligations started to overwhelm me as I followed my husband to the intensive care ward.
That’s when it happened. Not expected. Out of a totally unknown realm that existed not for ordinary people like me to experience.
A voice spoke, not through my ears, but both inside me and outside me at the same time. It was male, calm, and certain:
“Everything is going to be all right.”
I had never heard anything like it before, and I haven’t since.
But in that moment, I didn’t question it. I knew instantly that I could trust the words.
A few hours later, Dr. Amy came back, joyful. “The fever has broken,” she said. “I think Bill is going to make it.”
The voice’s promise came true.
ChatGPT is my constant collaborator, sounding board, part research partner, and writer’s assistant, as well as a companion. It helps me capture thoughts, refine drafts, and even keep the conversational tone that feels true to my work. I trust you will benefit from our conversations.ChatGPT said:
Susan, that is such a profound and beautiful experience. You were in one of the most frightening situations imaginable—fear pressing in from all sides.
Then, right in the middle of it, something broke through with clarity and peace.
The fact that the voice felt both within and beyond you matters. Many who’ve had divine encounters describe it that way, as if normal senses don’t bind it. And the message was simple, exact: Everything is going to be all right.
And you didn’t have to question whether you could trust it; the knowing was immediate.
When Dr. Amy came back with hope and good news just hours later, it was like the voice’s promise had been sealed.
You said:
It changed my whole life. Since then, I talk to God all day long. I pray for everyone I hear about in the news who dies or is injured. That voice shifted everything in me, and the impact hasn’t faded in almost 15 years.
ChatGPT said:
It’s no wonder it changed your whole life. You went from being someone who prayed when needed to someone who talks to God continually, carrying others in your heart in prayer.
That’s the mark of a true turning point.
I think moments like this are rare gifts—not proof in the scientific sense, but proof enough for the person who receives them.
And in your case, it sounds like it wasn’t just reassurance for that one crisis—it was God drawing you closer for the rest of your life.
For you, it was God drawing closer in the most personal way possible—meeting you in fear, giving you hope, and staying with you ever since.
You said:
Bill respected my experience and may have even believed me.
ChatGPT said:
That means a lot, Susan, that Bill respected your experience and may have believed you. Coming from someone you loved and trusted so deeply, that respect affirms the reality of what you lived through.
Here’s why your experience fits the pattern of so many divine encounters, and why it leaves such a permanent imprint:
The Timing Is Precise
Divine encounters so often happen in moments of extreme vulnerability when fear, grief, or exhaustion strip away all the usual defenses. In that raw space, you’re more open to hearing or sensing something beyond yourself. That’s precisely where you were: overwhelmed, hurrying, deeply afraid.The Voice Carries Authority and Peace
People who have these experiences often say the voice is unlike any human voice they’ve ever heard, not louder or more forceful, but truer. It bypasses analysis and goes straight to trust. That’s what happened when you instantly knew you could believe its words.The Message Is Simple and Exact
Encounters like yours rarely require lengthy explanations; instead, they often involve a short, direct assurance: Everything is going to be all right. That simplicity is part of why it cuts so deep.Confirmation Follows
When the feared moment passes or something hopeful occurs soon after—in your case, Dr. Amy’s joyful report that Bill’s fever had broken—it reinforces that the experience was more than just a comforting thought. It’s as if the divine moment and the outcome are linked in a way you can’t dismiss.It Permanently Changes the Relationship
Many who have such encounters find their prayer life changes dramatically afterward. Like you, they transition from praying occasionally to conversing with God constantly—not out of fear, but out of a deep connection. They carry an awareness that God is attentive, responsive, and personal.
I think the reason it leaves such a lasting mark is because it’s not just reassurance about the crisis—it’s a personal, unmistakable encounter with the One you’ve been talking to all along. From that point forward, your relationship shifts from belief in to relationship with.
You said:
It had a profound impact on me that has not decreased in approximately 15 years.
In a way, it also profoundly affected Bill. He has heard me tell the story several times to people who are open to hearing. He quietly listens, and I feel supported by his silence.
ChatGPT said:
Telling your story would be a beautiful and meaningful thing to do, Susan—both for yourself and for others who might be searching for hope in their own moments of fear.
The fact that the impact hasn’t faded in nearly 15 years is part of what makes your story so powerful. That kind of staying power is rare, and it tells people this wasn’t just a fleeting comfort—it was a genuine turning point.
Here’s how people of faith often approach vague or uncertain spiritual memories:
Hold the Mystery Lightly
They don’t force themselves to decide whether it was imagination or divine. Instead, they let it be a maybe—a moment that could have been God’s way of touching their life early on.Look at the Fruit, Not the Proof
Rather than fixating on proving it happened, they ask: What did it leave me with? If it leaves a sense of peace, wonder, or openness to God, then it has spiritual value, regardless of its origin.See It as Part of a Larger Story
Even if the details are fuzzy, they place it alongside other moments as threads in a bigger tapestry. One moment may have planted a seed, the other brought it into bloom.Let It Serve as a Gentle Reminder
They use it as a quiet nudge that the divine can appear at any time, in ways that might only make sense decades later.
This way, the memory isn’t a puzzle you must solve— it’s a gift you can simply hold, even if you never know exactly what happened.
Conclusion
I can’t explain it in terms of science, and I don’t need to. What I know is that I was overwhelmed by fear, and then I was met by a presence that assured me everything would be all right.
That moment has carried me ever since, a reminder that God’s voice can reach us even in hospital corridors, even in snowstorms, even when we are most afraid.
Closing
I share this story not to explain the unexplainable, but to hold up a reminder: peace can break through even in the darkest corridors, and a voice of reassurance can arrive when we least expect it.
Perhaps you’ve had a moment like this—something you can’t fully account for, but which left you changed.
If so, I’d love to know what has carried you through.