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?

The moon represents what I seek, but words are all I can offer now
Evil media bias? It depends on which lens you’re looking through that day
Rand Paul shows you can fight the system or join it — but not both
Smart people will flee big cities before death, disease take over
Would you have been on a ship? Or back home complaining?
Appeals to ‘common sense’ are frequently excuses to avoid thinking
Donald Trump is an evil man, but his political enemies are evil, too
Life has a brutal habit of forcing us to confront our own hypocrisy