This week, a very dear friend of mine died.

We’d met back in the summer of 2010 and spent many long summer nights in conversation; he and his wife came to our wedding, he took us out for my thirtieth birthday. He could have been my grandfather, but he was also a dear, dear friend.

For almost the last month, he had been popping into my mind, “Oh, I must write to him!” I’d think. At first, I resolved to send a letter — I love stationery, and I have plenty of it, and it’s becoming a lost art, you know?

But the weeks wore on and I didn’t sit down to pen my planned missive. The thought popped into my head: “just send him an email, it’s something, it’s better than nothing, he’d love to hear from you.” So I resolved to send an email. I’d sit down at my laptop and type something out.

And another week went by.

Still, he pulled at the corners of my mind. So one night while I nursed my toddler to sleep, I tapped out an email on my phone. Subject: “Hello from the Deep South!”

A few days later, I hadn’t heard back, which was not at all like him. I went so far as to look through my sent folder — no copy. Somewhere my email had gotten lost between my toddler’s bed and my friend’s inbox.

I persevered (this was a lot of effort, looking back!). I re-wrote the email another night while nursing again. This time it got through and he answered within 24 hours, as was his wont.

And then, 72 hours after that, he was dead (a post-op pulmonary embolism).

You can imagine how terribly grateful I am that I listened to that little niggling voice and persevered through demanding children and disappearing email drafts. The peace I am now enjoying in grief is so, so much better than the empty grief that regret would have borne (which thing I’ve also experienced in previous deaths).

What does the Holy Spirit sound like? How do we know when we’re being poked by God? When is the prodding providential?

Well, part of this is what spiritual direction teaches us; listening with others together, whether it’s in a group or one-on-one, to how God most often talks, getting to know God’s voice. As we grow in familiarity with the sounds and tone and cadence and humor of the Lord, and as we practice responding to those spiritual sounds, the resonance grows louder in our lives, I’ve found. Our response time dwindles as we recognize God’s movement and begin even to dance with this partner, not just taking instructions as if we are in an electric slide, but joining a waltz with this divine partner leading our every step.