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?

What demons cause us to abandon one who offers what we need?
Political corruption led to largest municipal bankruptcy in U.S. history
Does the ocean offer the best chance of escaping the state?
What missed chances are you going to regret when it’s too late to change?
Understanding Trump popularity requires empathy for his voters
How would you live differently if you knew when death was coming?
Here’s a hot news flash: State ‘industrial policy’ still doesn’t work
Goodbye, Merlin (2003-2022)
It’s hard to take a scary chance, but success can be breathtaking