Driving a fierce Corpus Christi storm

What’s it like to drive into a storm?  What bombards your brain when there’s no turning back?  Last weekend I shuddered to hear my friend retell this story.  Her trek on this eventful day was along the Texas coastline from Aransas Pass to Corpus Christi, which is a 30-minute stretch that usually paces pretty quick.  Having seen a storm warning on the TV morning news, she thought, “I’ll be fine.  I can’t afford to stay home.”  She pointed her little black Mazda toward the bigger city and suddenly fell victim to a darkening sky.  The purple and black were ominous, especially with the winds turning fierce.  Yellow construction signs ripped across the road, and something like seaweed strewed across her windshield.  The reality of flooding was imminent.  She pleaded, “Lord, make me strong.  I shouldn’t have left home.  I will listen to my husband next time.”  And it was then that these white lights appeared in front of her.  White lights that she could not explain.  It was a tow truck gliding just perfectly into her lane in the open spot ahead.  Nowhere earlier had she seen any evidence of this truck, yet now his 4 radiant white lights beamed a resounding message of hope.  Those white utility lights signified deliverance in a big way.  And my sweet friend arrived her workplace in fine form, having experienced the Lord literally shining His light on her dreadfully dark road.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord.  And afterward her husband told her the winds had clocked at 70 mph.  Amen.