Quiet conversations

It seems like yesterday when my sister and I walked out of the nursing home for the final time. Dad had been gone for two years, and now Mom had slipped peacefully into her eternal rest. There was comfort in knowing they were people of faith and were now experiencing the peace of God’s Kingdom. There was also an ache I could not ignore. For the first time in more than 50 years, the two people who had been part of every chapter of my life were no longer present. Soon I discovered that in many ways, they remained.
There are still times when I hear them calling my name. In those early days of missing them, I would turn instinctively, that familiar little-girl reflex still alive in me, expecting to see them nearby. Then I would smile, hold the moment close, and carry on. Perhaps this is what happens when someone has shaped your life for so many years. Their presence does not end; it simply changes form. Somewhere within me linger their conversations – lessons that formed our love and continue to shape who I am even now.
In time, I came to understand this was not unusual. It was what happens when a life has been shaped by years of shared words and presence. For more than 50 years, my life was molded by their words – guidance, wisdom, correction, encouragement, and love. Their voices became part of who I am. When I was younger, there was always something to talk about. But as the years passed, the conversations slowly gave way to something quieter. Not because there was less love or less to say, but because there came a gentle understanding that sometimes it was enough to just sit together.
And this is one of the lessons that has carried over into my relationship with God.
There are seasons when my prayer life is full, like King David pouring out his heart in the Psalms, or Moses speaking with God as a friend speaks with a friend. But there are also times when words seem unnecessary – when it is enough merely to sit in His presence. Martha felt the need to busy herself with the many tasks of hospitality, while Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and listened. Jesus did not criticize Martha’s desire to serve, but gently reminded her that one thing was needed in that moment. In contrast, Mary understood that sometimes the most faithful response is not to do more, but only to be with Him, listening in the stillness for His voice (Luke 10:38–42).
Maybe that is why the presence of God remains such a comfort. We do not see Him with our eyes, yet He continues to speak – through Scripture, memories, quiet nudges upon the heart, and a peace that settles over us when we need it most. And sometimes, like those moments with my parents in their later years, it is enough to sit quietly and know we are loved.
Today, the invitation is easier than we assume. We don’t need elaborate prayers or perfect words. We only need an open heart willing to be still before Him. The truth is, our Father is never far away, even when life feels distant or heavy; if your heart is full, speak, and if your heart is heavy, sit quietly and listen. If your heart feels somewhere in between, simply rest in His presence – for He is closer than you realize, and His love is steadier than your awareness of it.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

Cheryl Mixon-Cruce is Pastor of Ochlockonee Bay United Methodist Church and Sopchoppy United Methodist Church.