Stories That Need Telling ... Part I

Stories That Need Telling … Part I

Written by Walt Hagaman

To say my life has been chaotic would be an understatement. I missed the Vietnam War due to poor eyesight, but these old eyes have seen some pretty interesting, harrowing, and supernatural things. I could talk of ghosts and demons, of Bigfoot and ET, of life and death, and especially of the power and majesty of God, who is over all and in all. He has spoken to me with an audible voice on three occasions, brought me back from the brink of death twice that I know of since He is always at my right hand. He has, through visions, shown me things to come and given me songs in the night. I have had spiritual and prophetic dreams since I was a boy. In the midst of this, I have had periods of sorrow, strife among false brethren and pain, both small and great. I fought the CPS for 5 years for my kids, during which my first wife lost her sanity. I won so they turned me over to the IRS. I fought them for two years but they didn’t show up for court at the last hearing. I finally beat them by giving the Sheriff a writ informing him of his responsibility toward my property. The final insult came from the SSA who cut my SS payments in half, but it’s okay because I’m making it work.

A Contrast Between Life and Death

About a year after four friends and I started our commune, we got visitors quite frequently. Now, this was not a religious commune, per se, but was pretty much a party house. We had the use of an old ramshackle farmhouse loaned to us by a farmer who didn’t like his neighbors. We also gave him help with haying, cattle roundup, etc. One weekend a buddy of my friend Mike, another Mike actually, showed up to spend some time. Now, this Mike was a born again Christian and we had some good conversations around the big mess hall style table. The second night he was there, after most everyone was bedded down for the night, Mike suddenly sat up in bed and started talking to Jesus. Of course, only Mike’s side of the conversation could be heard but it wasn’t like he was praying, just having a normal conversation. The conversation being over, Mike laid back down and was quiet. Too quiet. Mike normally had a little rasp when he breathed. I was in the loft above him and decided something didn’t seem just right so I asked my other friend Mike to check on Mike. Well, Mike wasn’t breathing and had no heartbeat. He was dead. After someone ran to the neighbor’s house and got the Sheriff and ambulance it was a very long night. In the ensuing days, we discovered that Mike had been told by his doctor to go to the hospital because he had walking pneumonia. He came up to see us instead. I believe that Jesus took him home that night. His last act was to introduce those who paid attention to his Lord and Savior.

The Other Side of the Coin

The second part of this story concerns an old Indian fellow named Al Jones. Al was a friend of the farmer who owned our commune house. He became our friend as well and spent a lot of time with us, teaching us woods craft and horsemanship. One weekend several of us went to the horse auction at Goldendale, Washington. We took along the two-horse trailer with the intent to bring back a couple of horses. Now Al was quite the drinker and drank whiskey all the way down and back. By the time we got back, just at dusk, old Al was pretty well lit. He was bound and determined he was going to saddle up the best of the two horses and ride that horse out of the trailer backwards down the ramp. We didn’t think that was a good idea but he assured us it was. He got halfway down the ramp and the horse lost its footing and went over backwards, right on top of Al. The horn of the saddle gored him while the others went for help, I sat in the dirt with Al’s head in my lap to try to comfort him, hoping they would return soon. Al kept begging me to hit him in the head with a hammer to put him out of his misery. I wasn’t about to do that so there we sat as it got dark. After a while, Al lifted up his head and, looking across the yard, screamed: “Don’t let ’em get me!” I said, “who Al?” He pointed and suddenly I saw them. Little black shapes were coming out of the ground. Al’s spirit was just then leaving his body and those black shapes dragged him kicking and screaming back down where they came from. If you’ve seen the movie “Ghost” with Whoopi Goldberg you’ll see the picture I witnessed. So that was the other side of the coin of death. Mike went into the arms of Jesus. Al, unfortunately, went the other direction.

~~ More to come … 

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