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?

Romantic interest no easier now than it was for me in sixth grade
I want to help out of pure love, but human motives are messy
Bride is 89 and the groom is 86,
Reading through hundreds of my old articles has been unsettling
Time and maturity have changed
I can change my appearance, but my inner self will stay the same
Life choices: What’s important enough to spend your life doing?
Utah man turns newspaper obituary into insightful, funny confessional
The right woman in a man’s life brings out the best he has to give