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...There was something settled and peaceful in his expression whenever he returned from those walks. Steve had always assumed that it was the pastor's way of reclaiming a bit of solitude-- until he'd asked him about it.

"No," Pastor Harris had replied. "I don't walk the beach to be alone, because that's not possible. I walk and talk with God."

"You mean pray?"
"No," Pastor Harris said again. "I mean talk. Never forget that God is your friend. And like all friends, He longs to hear what's been happening in your life. Good or bad, whether it's been full of sorrow or anger, and even when you're questioning why terrible things have to happen. So I talk with him."

"What do you say?"
"What do you say to your friends?"

"I don't have friends."Steve gave a wry smile. "At least any that I can talk to."

Pastor Harris laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You have me." When he didn't respond, Pastor Harris gave his shoulder a squeeze. "We talk in the same way that you and I do."

"Does He answer?" Steve was skeptical.

"Always."

"You hear Him?"

"Yes," he said, "but not with my ears." He put a hand to his chest. "This is where I hear the answers. This is where I feel His presence."

THE LAST SONG

by Nicholas Sparks