Twenty three hours to go—says Google Maps. “We’re almost there,” said my brother sarcastically, looking back at us with his cheesy smile. I chuckled to myself knowing how this road trip would go. I know my family well—we’re all so different that our time together is full of unexpected and comedic moments. Our trip would include 23 hours of my brother making dad jokes, my mom persisting that we eat our fruit, and me trying to sleep. I missed the family excitement and was happy to be together again, but I was mostly looking forward to spending time with them once we got home. My assumption going into this long drive was that I would be so tired and car-sick for most of it that I would not get any enjoyable family time out of it. So, I prepared to simply endure it.

By about hour three, we had run through all the Backstreet Boys’ best songs, I explained to them what I did at work, we discussed why politics are corrupt, and we had my mom re-tell us her coming-to-America story. I was trying to enjoy my time with them, but I was getting bogged down by this point. I was beginning to feel car-sick and gave up putting effort into the conversations. My brother must have realized how taciturn I had become and kept asking me questions about college.

“Can I just tell you when we get home? I’m not feeling well.” He acquiesced. Then we just rode in silence while I tried to sleep.

“Buc-ees!” I shouted as I saw the sign flicker past my window.

“What’s that?” my brother asked.

He had no idea what he was missing. I explained to him that this monumental structure was worth adding an extra 30 minutes to our now 25-hour trip because I kept asking to stop for fresh air. But this was different. This was Buc-ee’s—one of the world’s biggest gas stations. It was comprised of 53,000 square feet, 120 fuel pumps, and quite nearly a mall inside.

Now I had some energy. I persuaded them that it would be a fun memory to add to our family road-trip. I mean, that’s how road trips should be—fun … right?

When we got inside, I could tell they were as excited as I was. There was something for everyone. Clothes and souvenirs for mom and me, brisket and meats for my brother. He couldn’t believe the abundance of brisket they had; this was impossible to find back home. By the end, we had spent half an hour there.

I slumped back down into my seat, and we hit the road. I realized I struggled to engage with my family for the first three hours because I was car sick, but I was energized enough to leap up at the sight of this gas station. Was I just being too selfish? Maybe I was totally capable of pushing through the fatigue and nausea and enjoying the time I had with them now, instead of waiting until we got home to have fun. I said it so myself: road trips should be a fun family memory. Of course, if it were really that painful, there would be only so much one could do—but I knew I could do better.

When you’re stuck with others in an uncomfortable circumstance, you cannot just take a break from them and come back when it is more convenient for you. Family requires sacrifice, but that sacrifice is fulfilling and rewarding when you make those around you happy. Their happiness becomes contagious. My attitude of keeping to myself, slumped in the back seat, remaining unengaged was wrong. By giving my attention to their joy, I would be happier.

I stopped moping and started talking. It can be extremely nauseating to try to focus when you’re motion sick, but I had asked God to help me push through it. We started talking again, laughing, suggesting songs, discussing the beautiful scenery we were watching go by. The ride became more eventful. I still felt awful, but at least now I was happy.

Giving joy has a powerful rebound effect if you let yourself experience it. Proverbs 11:24 says, “One gives freely, yet grows all the richer; another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want.”

Give joy, and you will grow richer in it than all the brisket a Buc-ee’s could ever make.