By Sharon (SD) Mac
The morning I left, the house was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels heavy
like the walls themselves know what’s happening.
I stood in the doorway for a long moment,
keys in one hand,
my water bottle in the other,
trying to steady my breathing.
It wasn’t fear holding me back.
It was the weight of what this moment meant:
leaving home alone for the first time.
Leaving without Steve.
Leaving with a purpose that felt bigger than me.
The dogs watched me
with those big, knowing eyes…
the same way they watched the day I came home without him.
I knelt down, hugged each one, and whispered,
“I’ll be back. Be good. Mama’s on a mission.”
Their silence said everything.
Animals know grief better than humans sometimes.
When I stepped outside,
the air was cool.
Still.
One of those Texas mornings where the sky looks soft
and the wind hasn’t fully woken up yet.
I stood by the car,
hand on the door handle,
heart pounding harder than it had in months.
This was it.
No turning back.
No “maybe later.”
No more planning or preparing.
The road was waiting.
God was calling.
And obedience required movement.
My hands trembled as I started the engine.
Not because I was scared of driving…
I’ve driven through storms, highways, traffic, everything.
But this drive was different.
This was symbolic.
This was personal.
As the engine hummed,
I felt tears forming.
Not the collapsing kind.
Not the panicking kind.
Just a quiet overflow…
like my heart releasing the last bit of resistance.
I whispered the only prayer I could manage:
“Lord… carry me through.”
Then, almost without thinking,
I reached for the picture of Steve on my guitar pick.
I looked at him and said,
“Babe… I’m going. I’m really doing it.”
I backed out of the driveway slowly…
as if the house needed time to say goodbye.
When the front of the car pointed toward the street,
a wave of emotion hit me so suddenly
I had to grip the steering wheel with both hands.
For a moment,
I almost put the car back in park.
Almost convinced myself that I wasn’t ready,
that the timing was wrong,
that the grief was too fresh,
that maybe I imagined the calling altogether.
But then something happened…
something small
but powerful.
A soft breeze moved through the neighborhood.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing loud.
Just a gentle sweep of air brushing across the windshield
like a hand guiding me forward.
And in that moment,
I remembered:
Obedience rarely feels convenient.
But it is always necessary.
I took a deep breath,
pulled forward,
and let the wheels roll onto the street.
The road felt unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.
A strange mix of freedom and sorrow.
Purpose and pain.
But above all…
peace.
A peace that didn’t come from understanding, but from surrender.
As the house disappeared in the rearview mirror,
I whispered,
“Okay, Lord.
Lead the way.”
And just like that,
the Pilgrim Sojourner journey began…
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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