By Kendra Stearns Drozd, Bluffton, SC
The Power of Presence
You can hear it in their voice. That slight shift when someone realizes you’re not half-listening while checking your phone or mentally running through your to-do list. They know when you’re really there.
I’ve spent over a decade as a Stephen Minister, walking alongside people through some of their darkest moments: grief, illness, divorce, abuse. One of my caring relationships lasted about five years and became one of the most important relationships in my life. I had the honor of sitting with someone during her most vulnerable times, and what I learned was this: the most powerful thing you can offer another person isn’t advice, solutions, or even answers. It’s your full attention.
But this lesson didn’t start with Stephen Ministry. It began much earlier, in a church pew in Glencoe, Illinois.
What My Grandma Taught Me About Lighting Up
Most Sundays, I’d meet my grandma, Mom Stearns, at Glencoe Union Church. Sometimes I’d ride my bike there. She’d give me a Luden’s menthol cough drop to suck on while she tickled my arm in the pew. It was our ritual, simple and familiar.
Looking back, what strikes me most wasn’t the cough drop or even the arm tickling. It was the way she was always excited to see me. Every single time.
Years later, I heard a quote from Maya Angelou that stopped me cold: “Your eyes should light up when your child enters the room.” I heard that about 20 years before I became a mother, but it stuck with me. It named something my grandma had given me without words.
That excitement, that genuine gladness at another person’s presence, is a gift. And it’s one of the greatest gifts I’ve tried to pass on to my four daughters.
The People Who Showed Up for Me
When I was growing up, a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Javore, came into my life in fourth grade and stayed through my senior year of high school. They taught Sunday School, led the choir and youth group, organized retreats, had us perform in plays and the Christmas pageant. Mrs. Javore stayed with my sister and me when my parents traveled. I babysat their kids all the way up until I left for college.
What made them different? They loved me and embraced me for who I was without judgment. They allowed me to feel safe laughing or crying, trying new things, making mistakes, taking on more responsibility and feeling capable.
They showed up. Not just physically, but emotionally. They were present in a way that shaped how I see myself and how I’ve tried to show up for others.
Mrs. Javore eventually went to divinity school and became a minister. She officiated my wedding alongside my husband’s priest. I recently saw them at a funeral after several years apart. I had written her a letter telling her how much I loved and appreciated her and how I modeled much of my parenting after her and Mr. Javore. Getting to hug them and tell them in person was a gift.
What Stephen Ministry Taught Me About Listening
When I became a Stephen Minister in 2012, I wanted to give back in a meaningful and intentional way. I had been helped by so many people after I suffered multiple devastating and life-altering miscarriages. I knew what it felt like to need someone to walk beside you.
Stephen Ministry trains laypeople to provide one-to-one, confidential, emotional and spiritual support to individuals experiencing life crises. The work centers on active listening, mirroring, and encouragement. We have a saying: Stephen Ministers care for people, but only God cures people.
The discipline of truly listening is harder than it sounds. It means not jumping in with your own story. Not offering unsolicited advice. Not trying to fix what might not be fixable. It means sitting with someone in their pain and letting them know they’re not alone in it.
I’m currently walking beside a woman who has suffered horrible verbal, mental, emotional, and at times physical abuse throughout her childhood and adult life. My job isn’t to rescue her or solve her problems. My job is to be there. To listen. To reflect back what I hear. To remind her she matters.
How to Show Up in Everyday Life
You don’t need to be a Stephen Minister to practice presence. Here’s what I’ve learned about showing up well in everyday relationships:
Be excited to see people
Let your face show it. Your eyes should light up. This matters with your kids, your spouse, your friends, even the person bagging your groceries. People know when you’re genuinely glad they’re there.
Put your time where your values are
Time is the only thing you can’t get more of. Being present and intentional with your time tells people what they mean to you. It’s not about grand gestures. It’s about consistent, small acts of attention.
Create rituals
The Luden’s cough drop. The arm tickle. The Sunday morning bike ride to church. Rituals create connection. They signal to people that they have a place in your life, a predictable, safe space where they belong.
Let people be themselves
Mr. and Mrs. Javore allowed me to feel safe making mistakes. That permission to be imperfect, to try and fail, to laugh and cry without judgment, that’s what real presence offers. It says: you don’t have to perform for me. You can just be.
The Long View
One of my Stephen Ministry caring relationships lasted five years. Five years of showing up, listening, being present through the hardest moments. It was an honor.
That’s the thing about presence. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t always feel productive. You can’t rush it or optimize it. But over time, it builds something real. Something that holds.
When I think about success now, after years in marketing and recruiting and raising four daughters, I don’t think about job titles or achievements. I think about happiness and contentedness. I think about having people in my life who are loved and love back, who know their inherent value and that they are a priority.
That kind of success is built one moment of presence at a time. One conversation where you really listen. One ritual repeated. One time your eyes light up when someone walks in the room.
It’s not complicated. But it matters more than almost anything else.