After the Cars Had Gone

After the Cars Had Gone

This morning began at 5:45.

Not because I had somewhere to be. But because the people I love did.

The evening before, we packed snack boxes together. This morning, warm rolls came out of the oven while I sliced strawberries, imagining little hands reaching for them later somewhere along the road. One by one, the cars filled with suitcases. The excitement was contagious.

Italy… Austria… Summer holidays had finally begun.

Our eldest granddaughter, Savannah, and her husband, Glenn, left first with our two precious great-grandsons.

Then Summer and Simon. Then Cherry and Michel with Lilly-Rose and Liv-Harley. Today was especially exciting for Liv. She turned ten years old.

Instead of opening all her birthday presents at once, her parents had such a lovely idea. Every hour during the journey she would unwrap another present until they reached their first hotel near the German–Austrian border.

I smiled just thinking about her excitement.

Then came the hugs. The waving. The final, “Drive safely!” And suddenly… The driveway was empty.

Instead of going home immediately, I sat quietly in my daughter’s garden. I opened the Merlin app on my phone and simply listened.

Within minutes it identified wrens, sparrows, jackdaws, a moorhen, a little grebe, and even a rose-ringed parakeet. The little stream beside the garden shimmered as the morning sun danced across the water.

Purple flowers swayed gently in the breeze. A water lily slowly opened itself to the light. And I found myself smiling.

The people I loved had gone.

But the God I love was still there.

His birds were still singing. His flowers were still blooming.

His sunlight was still dancing on the water. Creation hadn’t become quiet just because my heart had. It was still praising its Creator.

Jesus once said, “Look at the birds of the air…”

Perhaps He wasn’t only teaching us not to worry. Perhaps He was inviting us to notice. To slow down. To see that even after the cars have gone…

God is still present. Even After the Cars Have Gone…

Do you know what I love most about this morning? Nothing dramatic happened. No miracle. No vision. No sermon. Just an ordinary summer morning. And somehow…

God was there. I think that’s often how He meets us.

Not only on mountaintops or in life’s great turning points, but in the quiet moments after everyone has left, when the house grows still and creation gently reminds us that heaven has not become silent.

The birds continue their songs. The flowers continue to bloom. The streams continue to sparkle. And our Heavenly Father continues to be exactly where He has always been. Perhaps that’s why Jesus pointed to the birds.

Not because they solve our worries, but because they quietly point us back to the One who never leaves.

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5)

Even after the cars have gone…

25 July 2026