On the Road Again - Thursday March 19th, 2026

We piled into the car Wednesday morning ready to leave Atlanta, bound for Texas. Every crevice of the car re-packed, the last of the hugs given, and a GPS that promised hours of highway stretching ahead like a ribbon pulled across the South.  We had decided to split the drive into 2 days, so we settled in for the journey.

We stopped in Warrior, Alabama for lunch at the White House diner. It had a small-town feel to it and that good ole southern hospitality!  The staff smiled brightly and talked to us like they had known us for years.  As people got up from their lunch to leave, they stopped by our table to say hello and chat about the day.  The conversations around us seemed loud on purpose, almost inviting others to join in, and the local greetings were filled with those heavy southern accents you can’t help but love.  “It’s always a great day when you wake up on this side of the dirt!” And I fully agree!  How can you not enjoy the day with an attitude like that!  

Back in the car the miles feel ordinary. Traffic hums, conversations ebb and flow, and the road seemed predictable. The rhythm of the tires on asphalt became steady as we travel across Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas.

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At one point, as the landscape flattened and stretched endlessly toward the horizon, I thought about this verse:

“The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” — Psalm 121:8

There’s comfort in that kind of promise. Not just in the main destinations, but in every mile, every turn, every moment when the road feels uncertain or long. It’s easy to think of God as present at the destination—waiting for us to arrive safely. But this verse suggests something deeper: that He is in the movement itself. In the “coming and going.” In the very act of traveling.

And maybe that’s what this thought has turned into—a reminder that the in-between spaces matter just as much as where we’re headed.

As the sun dipped low and our Texas destination finally drew close, the sky unfolded like a canvas brushed with evening light. We were tired, a little restless, more than ready to arrive. Yet beneath it all, a quiet gratitude settled over the car — gratitude for the time together, for the miles behind us, and for the conversations we shared.

Because in the end, the trip wasn’t only about reaching a new place. It was about recognizing the gentle, steady presence of our Lord with us in every stretch of the journey.