By Sharon (SD) Mac
After I pulled out of Buc-ee’s, the road opened wide in front of me…
one of those long Texas stretches that feels like it goes on forever.
The kind that forces you to think. The kind that doesn’t let you hide.
The kind where God starts speaking, because He finally has your full attention.
The sky was clear, the sun was warm, and the horizon looked like a straight line drawn by God’s hand.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing chaotic.
Just miles…
and peace…
and space.
I turned the music back on…hymns, the kind Steve loved, the kind that settles your heart more than it excites it.
As the songs played, the tears came back. Not the big kind.
Just quiet tears that slipped down without permission.
It wasn’t sadness.
It was release.
It was gratitude.
It was the weight of everything catching up to me.
I found myself saying out loud, almost without thinking,
“Lord… this is really happening.”
And then, somewhere between two small towns and an endless line of power poles,
I started talking to God and to Steve at the same time.
I told God my fears.
My doubts.
My insecurities. (Not that God doesn’t already know,as He already knows even before we say or think it)
The parts of me that still felt broken.
The parts I didn’t know how to rebuild.
And I told Steve things I never said when he was here.
Things like,
“I’m tired.”
“I miss talking to you at night.”
“I miss your voice telling me what’s possible.”
“I’m scared to do all this without you, babe.”
And in that quiet car, with the road stretching endlessly ahead,
I felt God answer not with words but with presence.
A peace settled over me, different from the first hour, different from Buc-ee’s,
different from anything I’d felt in months/years…
It wasn’t emotional.
It was steady.
Stable.
Assuring.
Like God saying,
“This road is your healing.
Keep driving.”
Somewhere around mile 60, I started smiling.
For no reason.
Just… smiling.
Because for the first time in a long time,
I wasn’t drowning.
I wasn’t overwhelmed.
I wasn’t stuck in the cycle of pain and panic.
I was moving.
Breathing.
Living.
Obeying.
And God was meeting me mile by mile.
The highway curved gently,
the wind blew softly across the hood,
and the sunlight hit the windshield just right.
And I whispered,
“Thank You, Lord…
for letting me feel alive again.”
That stretch of highway…
that long, quiet, holy piece of road…
became the place where I realized something important:
I wasn’t just launching a foundation.
I wasn’t just telling my story.
I was being rebuilt.
From the inside out.
One mile at a time.
One prayer at a time.
One memory at a time.
The road became my sanctuary.
The car became my prayer room.
And the journey became my worship.
I wiped my tears,
took a deep breath,
and said the words that Steve Mac uttered, while he was in the hospital:
“Lord… I trust You, It is Well, with my Soul.”
And with that,
I kept driving,
toward healing,
toward calling,
toward the life God was forming out of the ashes.
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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