He was in the ICU on Sunday. Passed away Monday morning. The funeral was on Thursday. His name is Hunter Williams, and his momma has been one of my two lifelong best friends for 47 years.

To say she is shattered is not adequate.

To say we are not all broken is not true.

He was 30 years old.

My best friend’s baby, who called her multiple times a day to say, “Have a great day,” to check on her, to tell her all the things, to tell her nothing, to aggravate her, to share his dreams … and now, her phone is silent.

He has an identical twin who is devastated.

Two younger brothers and a sister. Four step-siblings.

Strong friendships and deep family ties.

His friends and his family – all of us walking around in a fog of “How did this happen?” But at the same time, we all know that Hunter lived life on his own terms. He was a small-town guy from Southeastern Oklahoma who wore mismatched clothes and had an ornery smile. He was strong-willed, wild at times, got into trouble, and made friends with most every person he encountered. He loved making people laugh; he loved hunting. He loved the race truck he built; he named her “Black Betty.” The thing that we will all remember most, though, was how Hunter willingly gave help to people – quietly, without telling anyone, without wanting or needing attention. He had a servant’s heart. This week on Facebook, the stories have kept coming – friends and family telling memories of how Hunter went out of his way for them or someone they knew. He was a beautiful human, and my best friend adored her precious boy, though, quoting her, he’s “the reason I color my hair.” Hunter loved big and lived each day without fear or regret.

My husband, Patrick, officiated the chapel service in honor of Hunter.

In his message, he spoke profound words – words he shared with me early in the week as he prepared for the service. Words that changed how I saw a Bible story I grew up hearing in Sunday School. A new layer exists in that story now, and I want to share it with you. What you do with it is for you. After I share it, I’ll tell what I will do with it.

What follows is a close transcription of some of Patrick’s words.

~ There was a woman who had an “issue of blood” for 12 years, and she spent her whole living on physicians and doctors and everything to try to find an answer to it, but nothing resolved her medical concern. So she came up behind a certain man and touched the border of His garment, and this man, named Jesus, was in a crowd of hundreds, if not thousands of people. This book, the Bible, in Luke 8, uses the word throng, which means he was pressed by a massive crowd. So people are pushing up against him left and right. Some of his disciples were with him, and Jesus said, who touched me? You can look at that as being a matter of a physical touch, but I read a little further into this, and I don’t believe that’s what happened.

I can’t believe that’s what happened because there were hundreds of people around him pushing on him – a throng. And even the disciples said, Master, the multitude is all around us and pressing on us. How can you say who touched me? And he said, Somebody touched me because I felt virtue go out of me. And I believe what he was saying was that somebody touched him among all those people pushing and shoving him. Someone touched him – through faith – a spiritual touch – and He felt virtue, or power, go out of Him. In the midst of all of those people physically touching Him, He felt her faith. The woman admits it was her, and Jesus tells her that her faith made her whole. She had touched the heart of Jesus.

I would be so lucky to touch God that way.

I believe that Hunter touched God that way. I really do. There were times when this young man did things under the radar – for instance, he took gas out 20 plus miles to a lady who had run out of gas, and she went to pay him, and he wouldn’t take the money, but she insisted that she was going to pay him. Well, he took the money, and he went and bought her children some toys. That’s the kind of young man Hunter was. He took care of his sick grandfather for a year. Took care of his mother. He was taking care of his grandmother. He did these things quietly – while still hanging with his friends, his brothers, building his race truck, hunting, and all of the other things he did. He served, and he lived.

This young man lived his life fearlessly.

I believe he had it in his mind that I’m going to live my life, and when it’s done, it’s done. And he didn’t want to hear any business about it. I have to wonder how many people I run across have that fearlessness about life. Hunter knew there was something greater than him, and he wasn’t worried about it. This young man was not worried in any way, shape, or form about that. He just lived life, he did what he wanted to do, and he served other people – touching the heart of Jesus. ~ (Patrick Cunningham, 6/4/26)

There were so many people touching Jesus, bumping into Him, calling out to Him, but it was the woman who quietly, in faith, reached out and touched the hem of His garment, that He felt in Spirit … Jesus felt her faith.

That gives me pause.

Does Jesus feel my faith?

Do I live fearless in His name, knowing He can carry me through whatever comes?

Not always.

I wish the answer to my own question was “YES!” But it’s not. It’s “Not always.”

I want to live fearlessly in faith – unconcerned about how much time I have here on this earth, in this place. I don’t want to get caught up in worldliness, but rather in service – to serve others quietly – as Hunter did.

We are going to miss him. My best friend’s soul aches for the presence of her son … but she knows our Father in Heaven, and she knows Jesus. Through faith, she knows she will see Hunter again, and she knows that it is for her to live as he did – there are even a couple of Hunter’s acts of service that she intends to carry forward – things most people don’t even know he did.

But Jesus knew.

And his momma knew.

Last night, my husband and I had a conversation. He said to me that I needed to remember a prayer we say often in AA – a simple prayer. I knew which prayer he meant, and I said, “I know which one you mean.” He said, “Tell it to me.” So, I began … “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change …” and Patrick stopped me. He said, “There are many things in our lives that we cannot change. What are we to pray for? What are we asking for in this prayer?” I said, “Serenity.” He said, “Another word for that is peace.” There are things we cannot change – and because we cannot change them, we are to seek peace in those things. Ask God to comfort us in times of grief, pain, anxiety, stress – in things we cannot change. He can change them – bring good out of bad, but He won’t move until our faith activates – even faith the size of a mustard seed. When I hold it all in, though, and try to fix and change everything myself, things tend to get worse. Psalm 46:10 tells us, “Be still and know that I am God.” Have faith. Be still. Be patient. Be at peace.

Patrick said, “How does the rest go?” And I said, “Courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” He reminded me that we are to do what we can. We cannot change all things, but those things that we can, we are to be brave – FEARLESS – and step forward in FAITH – asking for wisdom to navigate the things of life.

Like the woman with the bleeding issue.

Like Hunter.

Amen.