Right In The Middle Of The Song

Finally, tonight was the night. June 1, 2012. After six months of waiting, and four tries at getting a sitter, it was date night with my husband to see a concert. But not just “a” concert. My husband had gotten us tickets to see Neil Diamond in concert. NEIL DIAMOND, ladies . . . You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore. Love on the Rocks. America. Sweet Caroline. And my all-time favorite, Forever in Blue Jeans. So this was gonna be really great, awesome, the best night ever. Because I’d really missed spending time with my husband. Adult conversation date time. He’d been traveling most of the year, only home odd weeks here and there. But home wasn’t exactly peaceful with peri-menopausal me and three active boys between 9 and 13 years old. Talk about hormones… And recently, he thought we’d been spending too many Sundays in church. Doing churchy stuff. Talking about churchy things. With all our churchy friends. I knew he just wanted to escape the pressures he was under, but skipping church wasn’t okay with me. Tonight, however, this was one discussion I just wanted to let rest. My prayers for months had been that God would make my husband want to come to church more. Over time, however, my prayers changed to asking God to keep my mouth shut about it, since that first prayer wasn’t working. Besides, we weren’t even going to church the next day anyway, because we had a Cub Scout end-of-the-year Picnic and Awards Day planned. The sitter showed up right in time. We kissed the boys goodnight. And we were our...