By Sharon (SD) Mac
Of course my first stop had to be Buc-ee’s.
It wasn’t planned, but nothing about this journey really was.
The minute I saw that giant smiling beaver on the billboard,
my heart tightened and softened at the same time.
Buc-ee’s wasn’t just a gas station for me and Steve.
It was a memory.
A tradition.
A slice of joy in the middle of any trip, no matter how stressful the week had been.
Date nights at Buc-ee’s?
Yes!
Absolutely yes!
Don’t judge us, that’s real Texas romance right there.
Brisket sandwiches, coffee refills, and people watching.
We loved it. So when I pulled into the parking lot, my chest got heavy.
My hands shook a bit.
It wasn’t grief, it was familiarity mixed with absence.
Something in me whispered,
“He would’ve loved this stop.”
I parked the car, turned off the engine, and just sat there for a moment.
The parking lot was busy, people laughing, kids running, doors slamming,
the smell of BBQ drifting through the air.
But inside the car, it was still.
Quiet.
Emotional.
Sacred.
I took a deep breath and whispered,
“Okay, Lord… help me walk through these doors.”
When I stepped out of the car,
the wind hit me… warm, familiar, almost comforting.
For a moment I imagined Steve standing beside me,
smirking and saying, “Babe… don’t forget the brisket.”
I smiled.
A real smile.
Small… but real.
Inside, Buc-ee’s was its usual chaos…
bright lights, the loud chopping of fresh brisket,
entire aisles of snacks nobody needs but everyone buys anyway.
I walked slowly, almost drifting.
Every corner held a memory.
Every scent triggered something.
But then something unexpected happened.
Instead of breaking down…
I felt comfort.
Warm.
Steady.
Gentle.
Almost like God was saying,
“See? You can hold memories without collapsing.
You can walk through familiar places and still stand.”
I grabbed a bottle of water,
some jerky for the road, and yes the brisket.
At the checkout,
the cashier smiled and said,
“You look like you’re on a long trip.”
I nodded and answered softly,
“I am.”
She said,
“Be careful luv.”
I froze.
Not because of the words but because those were the exact words Steve used to say
every time I left the house:
“Be careful my love.”
I walked out with the bags in my hands
and tears pressing hard behind my eyes.
Not sad tears.
Not devastated tears.
Just… overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed by memory.
By mercy.
By the small ways God kept showing me
that I wasn’t walking alone.
As I got back in the car,
I placed the brisket in the passenger seat.
Right where Steve used to sit.
I looked at the photo again and whispered,
“Babe… first stop.
You coming with me?”
And for the first time on this journey,
I felt something stir…
not grief,
not heaviness,
but hope.
A tiny spark
that made my heart say,
“Okay… maybe I can really do this.”
I started the engine,
took a deep breath,
and pulled out of the Buc-ee’s parking lot
with fresh courage in my chest.
The journey continued…
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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