It was already raining lightly when I left the office late Friday afternoon. By the time I merged onto the interstate, the gentle summer rain had turned into a gushing torrent of water. Somewhere along I-459 south of Birmingham, I could barely seen the tail lights of the car creeping along in front of me.
Traffic was bumper to bumper in all three lanes of each direction. We inched along dangerously. I was afraid of what I might hit as I kept going forward, but I was equally afraid of being hit in the rear if I didn’t move fast enough.
I simply couldn’t see what was going on — and I was afraid that trying to pull off the road was no better since I couldn’t see anything and others couldn’t see me.
So I moved along blindly — barely moving — as buckets of rain continued to fall from the sky.
And then I saw something that seemed like a faint shaft of light in the sky off to my right. The rain still beat down furiously, but where was that light coming from?

FRIDAY FUNNIES
Even when we’re right, criticism stems from our own insecurities
Party of ‘limited government’ fails when given chance to shrink state
Despite promise of new tech, today’s journalism is just trivia
Group conflict isn’t as simple as tales of good guys vs. bad guys
Unless your spirit’s been broken, your flaws will always be hidden
Nobody can ever be good enough when perfection is the standard
Search for sexual pleasure can slowly destroy genuine intimacy
‘Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood… Make big plans’