I read the email Saturday afternoon as we pointed our car north and began the hour-and-a-half drive home from an early morning cross country meet. “It’s your lucky day! Tickets are still available for THE AVETT BROTHERS!” it declared in bold letters.

My third son and I saw them last year in what felt like a symbolic union: my first book began with a story about the three of us — mother, son, and our favorite band. I vowed to see them again whenever possible.

Because the concert is in Chattanooga, two hours north of home, my husband and I decided we couldn’t make it when tickets originally went on sale, especially since we have a 180-mile round trip for cross country this morning. The concert starts late, and it’s unlikely we’d get home before 2 a.m., staying awake 21 hours straight and logging 450 miles in that time.

Tomorrow is an important day at church — the kind you write in large letters on your calendar, circle in red, and anticipate for weeks in advance — so it doesn’t feel like a wise decision, as much as I want to go.

But wisdom is scarce when faced with the temptation of last-minute seats, and none of the reasons you shouldn’t go are fresh in your mind.

Please join me today at (in)courage to read the rest of the story!

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