All three of us—my brother, sister, and me—would bounce around in the backseat of our old blue Ford station wagon, back before seat belts were much of a thing. Mama and Daddy would talk softly up front while we whispered, giggled, and picked at each other until Mama’s warning came sharp and clear: “You kids better settle down or you’re gonna get a whipping.”
Daddy always had a cigarette hanging from his lips, and before long, the smoke would swirl thick through the car. One of us would holler, “Daddy, it stinks!” and he’d just smile, telling us to roll down the window. The cool breeze would rush in, washing away the smell, and we’d stick our faces close to the glass, watching fields of cows roll by or the occasional tractor lumbering down a dirt road.
After an hour or so, one of us would inevitably whine, “Daddy, I gotta go!” He’d nod and say, “We’ll stop at the next gas station,” but somehow we never did. Unless it was a real emergency, we had to hold it until we made it home. On the rare occasion he actually stopped, Mama would go inside to ask for the bathroom key, which was always attached to some odd contraption—a hubcap, a cinder block, or a chunk of wood—to keep it from being stolen.
Those Sunday drives didn’t take us anywhere fancy, but they were full of laughter, love, and the kind of togetherness you don’t find much anymore. We didn’t need a destination; the joy was in the going.
Today, after church and lunch, I got a little bored and looked over at my husband. “Wanna take a Sunday drive?” I asked. He smiled just like Daddy used to and said, “Let’s go.”
We drove with no plan in mind, just letting the road lead us where it wanted. We saw a shimmering rainbow arching across the sky, a quiet river lined with trees still holding on to their last bits of fall color, and—of course—a field full of cows grazing lazily in the afternoon light.
As the car rolled along, my heart swelled with joy. For a moment, it felt like I was that little girl again—hair flying in the breeze, laughter bubbling up from the backseat, and the world wide open before me.
Life moves so fast now that we rarely take time to just “go.” We think every trip must have a purpose, every moment must be productive. But sometimes, the sweetest blessings come when we simply take the road less planned and let God steer. Those quiet rides remind me that joy isn’t found in the destination—it’s found in the journey and in the company we keep.
Dear Lord, thank You for the simple joys—family, laughter, and the beauty that surrounds us. Help us slow down and notice the everyday miracles You place along our path. Teach us to trust the journey, even when we don’t know where it’s headed, and to treasure every mile we travel with the ones we love. Amen.
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