By Sharon (SD) Mac
Packing for a trip is one thing. Packing for a calling…
is a completely different kind of weight.
I remember staring at my suitcase on the floor…
empty, wide open,
almost mocking me.
I stood there thinking,
“Where do I even begin?”
What do you pack when you’re not traveling for fun?
When you’re not running away…
but stepping into something God asked you to walk?
When the road ahead is long,
unknown,
and honestly a little scary?
I took a deep breath,
looked around my quiet house,
and felt the heaviness of the moment:
This was the first time I was packing for a long trip
without Steve calling from the other room,
“Babe, do you need help?”
or
“Don’t forget your charger.”
This time, it was just me.
Me… and God.
My hands were shaking,
not from fear alone, but from the reality that this journey was no longer an idea.
It was happening.
For real.
For purpose.
I folded my clothes slowly, almost too slowly.
Every shirt felt like a step away from the life I once had.
Every item felt like a reminder that life moves…
even when you don’t feel ready to move with it.
But as I packed, something else happened.
Peace.
A small, soft one.
But peace nonetheless.
Not a loud peace,
not a “yes, I’m so ready!” kind of peace.
But a steady one.
A peace that whispered,
“You’re not walking alone.”
I placed my Bible on top of my clothes.
Then my journal.
Then the photo of Steve I always carried.
Not because I needed a reminder of him…
he lives in every breath I take, but because I wanted him to come with me as I carried the mission we both believed in.
Then came the heavier moment…
writing the first list.
Not a packing list,
but a purpose list:
• Places I planned to stop
• Dealerships, Harley stores,Arch Motorcycle, hotels
• Churches God might lead me to
• Towns where people might need hope
• The first donors I needed to contact
• The foundation goals
• The fuel I’d need — physically, spiritually, financially As I wrote, the fear didn’t disappear.
But faith grew louder.
This wasn’t just a drive.
This wasn’t just a trip.
This wasn’t for content
or a cute Instagram moment
or some adventure to fill emptiness.
This was obedience.
This was ministry.
This was the first real step of the calling God whispered
in the darkest valley of my life.
And then, without fanfare,
without a dramatic movie moment…
I said it.
Out loud.
To myself.
To God.
“I’m doing this.”
Three simple words.
But for me, they were a declaration.
A surrender.
A step of faith.
A line in the sand that said grief doesn’t get the last word, God does.
I zipped the suitcase.
And in that moment,
I felt something shift inside me…
a strength that didn’t come from me,
a courage that wasn’t mine,
a comfort that could only come from the Lord.
The journey was no longer ahead of me.
It had already begun.
Soli Deo Gloria — To God alone be the glory.
“Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” -2Timothy 2:3
“Resolved, never to give over, nor in the least to slacken, my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be.” -Jonathan Edwards, Resolution, 56
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