The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.
The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.
The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.
The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.
It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

‘Please do not adjust your set’
Life choices: What’s important enough to spend your life doing?
A tax on folks who can’t do math? Winning may be worst possibility
Being in love shows us who we can choose to be at our very best
Those of us eager to meet Jesus aren’t eager to depart this world
Sad husband: ‘My beautiful wife is dying; I’m so sad I can’t sleep’
Tradeoffs about values leave me feeling like ‘double-minded man’
‘Post-racial’ America? We’re nowhere close to that — and may never be