Nonetheless, this one left me particularly frustrated. Perhaps because it's been such a long time since our last one.
The next night she said, "If you don't want to go to church you don't have to."
Wow. I never thought that that day would come. My mind raced--was this my one chance at "freedom?". Was I looking at a once-in-a-lifetime chance to escape from endless, mind-numbing Sundays? The door to my prison left ajar by a thoughtless guard?
"Really?"
"Yes. I don't want to be a controlling wife or anything."
I took one last look out of the prison door and turned back.
"I want to be where my family is. I'll keep coming with you."
What can I say? I know my attendance makes her happy, even though I complain to her about all the crap that gets taught. And I see so little of my kids, I'd rather play quietly with them in Sacrament Meeting (or in the foyer!) than stay at home.
Strange, really. I feel like some progress has been made, even though nothing's changing outwardly. One never knows what to expect, here on the middle way. But I was careful not to lock the door when I closed it behind me.
