On a mid-July late afternoon, I am driving my family to Dallas on I-30 when we hit an isolated shower. A mist steams up from the pavement, creating a cloud of water droplets. The sun behind us projects a rainbow around the car. We’re flying down the road, driving through a complete circle of iridescent bands of color.
Beautiful beyond words.
I am sitting in awe, knowing I have never seen such a sight before and will never see it again. A camera would be nice, but I don’t have one.
Moments later, the shower turns to a downpour of hail, so heavy the windshield is solid white. I can’t see the road. I can’t see behind me. At 60 mph, what shall I do? If I keep going, I may run off the road, hit a guard rail, or crash into someone. If I stop, then someone will probably crash into me.
I keep driving.
Praying.
Thinking my family is about to die.
Seconds later, the sky is blue and the storm is behind me. Cars ahead of me are moving as if nothing ever happened.
I keep driving.
Praising.
Thankful my family is still alive.
I am reminded that life is in God’s hands, not mine.

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