What was I saying?

I had an extended coffee meet-up with a friend on Friday.  It was a beautiful day and we sat enjoying the California close-enough-to-the-beach-that-it-is pleasant weather and talking.  I, in my typical don't think about it fashion, neglected the sunscreen.  I regret that decision today as I look at the lovely tan lines I know sport.  That v-neck tee was nice but the v-neck tan line does not look nice with all the scoop neck work shirts I own.  Oh well.

As we were talking my friend mentioned a song that we had sung with a couple of years back.  It was a Johnny Cash song.  Neither of us could remember the name.  Which prompted a discussion about how much we both tend to forget things these days.  Mere seconds later another friend asked about the doctor I was going to and I COULD NOT come up with her name.  Which prompted much laughter.

About an hour later in the midst of a lively discussion about, well, something, my friend and I both were distracted by the group of three next to us.  We attempted to keep the conversation going but the circus happening in this group just drew our attention away.  When that group finally left my friend looked at me and said, "What was I saying?", which caused another round of hysterical laughter.  It went on like that the rest of the time (and seeing as how we were there for almost 4 hours, there were a lot of those moments.  Best way to spend a Friday...even with the awesomely awkward tan lines I now have.)

I relate that story because just 10 minutes ago, as I was browsing through the Internet, I had a brilliant idea for a blog post.  I was going to pontificate and make grand statements and basically rant.  I signed into blogger and promptly forgot what I was going to post about.  It came back to me as I typed out that last sentence. I'm going to start another post and save it for later, if I don't get distracted by something else in the next 10 minutes.

This memory-distraction thing, though is kind of stressing me out.  For someone who values words as much as I do, the tendency to forget words is beginning to make me wonder what is happening to my brain.  Which makes me think that maybe it's a result of getting older.  Then I get depressed when I think of the number of candles that will be on my birthday cake this year (did someone yell fire?) and start thinking about how differently life turned out than I imagined they would when I was 20 and throw a pity party for one and then I remember my doctors name and that's enough of...HEY, that's the name of the Johnny Cash song, That's Enough!...wait, what I was I saying?

Welcome to my life. 

Dear News Media,

While I am happy for the Royal couple and the impending arrival of their first child, I really don't need to see "LIVE COVERAGE OF THE ROYAL BIRTH".  Additionally, having been in the room when Creative Guy and Adventure Boy made their way into the world, I'm pretty sure the Duchess doesn't want there to be "LIVE COVERAGE" of the royal birth either.  Just sayin'.

Happy Monday!

Less Miserable

A few months ago I was with K, N, Adventure Boy, Creative Guy and Grammy for a birthday/Oscar party night.  We all sat around the dinner table enjoying BBQ ribs and watching the beautiful people on TV being awarded for their movie efforts.  Les Miserables was up for some award and N started to make a comment about the movie saying, "Le Miserables...".  Creative Guy, the 8 year old young reader, looked at the TV screen and said "No Dad, it's LESS miserable."  All the adults in the room shared a look and tried really hard not to giggle too much.

I told the Bachelor Viewing crew that and we laughed and laughed and laughed.  It was a completely innocent remark on the part of a young reader and yet...

A few weeks ago I was walking down the sidewalk towards the light rail.  I tend to smile at people if we make eye contact and as I passed a lady she returned my smile with a big smile of her own.  I almost stopped on the sidewalk in shock.  I'm so used to smiling at people and getting nothing, NOTHING in return.  People either don't want to smile back and thereby invite a complete stranger to talk with them or they just aren't happy and so they don't smile.

I've been in the "just not happy" place in life.  I've done my fair share of whining and yet that simple statement by my 8 year old godson has had me thinking...less miserable.

I believe there are people who live life to be miserable.  I KNOW people who are determined to be miserable.  Something happens that annoys them the slightest bit and the drama begins.  Huge, sweeping, dramatic statements are made.  Everyone is out to get them.  Nothing goes their way EVER.  They move from one place of unhappiness to another, destined determined to be miserable.  They are also determined to make everyone around them miserable as well...or at least determined to see the world in a negative manner.

I can't live that way.  There are big, awful things happening in the world.  There are awful things happening all over the world that we simply don't hear about.  Not just awful, horrific, unspeakable acts occur all the time that we in US never, ever hear about.  In light of that, the fact that I'm not 100% happy right now doesn't mean much.  I look at my life and I see a lot to be less miserable about.  A roof over my head, a family that loves me, a God who offers grace and compassion all the time, friends who make me laugh, a job that doesn't stink, a car that works most of the time now, some money less money in the bank because of said car.  Not perfect but definitely not miserable.

There is a part of me convinced that being miserable is a state of mind.  I can choose to dwell on the crappy things in life, I can choose to think about the good things.  I can choose to remind myself over and over again about those qualities I find lacking or I can choose to remember the gifts and talents I've been blessed with.  I can choose to feel miserable or I can choose to be less miserable.

Some days it is admittedly harder than others to choose the less miserable point of view and yet today I think I am going to take a lesson, however inadvertent, from an 8 year old and be less miserable.

Where do I belong?

It's silly.  The other day on the RevGals facebook page (yes, I check in once a day even though I'm taking a break and lately I've been using that darn site for work!  geesh!) there was a question posed...what denomination are you?

One question and I suddenly felt very sad.  Answering that question used to be easy.  PC(USA) all the way.   In my heart I am still very much a PC(USA) girl.  But in real-churchgoing-life, I am no longer a PC(USA) girl.  I still hold membership in a PC(USA) church but that's only because I haven't officially sent my membership termination letter.  They won't be PC(USA) for long, either, as things look right now...the sadness deepens.
 I would love to attend a PC(USA) church and there are 3 others in town.  One is pseudo PC(USA). As soon as they can figure out how to do so, they are out.  The other 2 are very traditional in their worship and, well, that's just not me.

So I found a place where I feel I being "fed", to use christianese and even more importantly, where I was welcomed enthusiastically and I go there.  Right now I attend a church associated with the Conservative Baptist Association. My values and the values of many in the church do not match up.  I don't plan on ever becoming a member, but for now this is where God has me.  I treasure the people there but I don't agree with their viewpoints on many subjects and yet, I find myself drawn to this loosely associated Conservative Baptist Church...but I don't really feel like I belong. I don't claim the denomination as my own. I just happen to attend the church right now.

All of that said, it was such a simple question and yet my heart broke, one more time, as I looked at this journey of faith and recognized I don't have a true denomination that I call home. In the grand scheme, it truly does not matter, it is simply another word that gets in the way of faith and hinders us from viewing God without restriction...but that word was also a piece of my identity, another part left behind in this journey of faith.  Why does growing in faith have to be so hard sometimes?

So, to answer the innocently asked question, my name is Brittany. I don't have a true denominational home anymore. The day I do, I will let you know.