Being Single in The Church Today

by Annie Rim

In my mid-twenties, after having gone on only a couple dates, I decided to come to terms with the fact that I would most likely be single the rest of my life. I started making plans and dreaming dreams that included only me – no imaginary partner.

My mid-thirties self gives an enormous eye-roll.

I was married in my late twenties and am now living the stereotypical life of a stay-at-home mom to my two daughters. Add being a middle-class, educated white woman to the mix, and I’ll easily find a place at any church, regardless of beliefs or denomination.

Recently I spent a morning texting with a single friend who has decided to leave our church. This friend was highly involved in church life and its weekly clockwork. My friend was also part of the small group my husband and I host at our house. Yes, he was in the minority among couples but I didn’t think anything of it.

Until, partway through our conversation he said this: “I feel loved there, but not totally a part since I cannot join in couples talk and that was a big part of conversation.”



Frank and I were talking about being single. How hard and lonely it iand how neither of us will ever understand what our friends deal with. Even though I wanted to be in a relationship and was often lonely while I was single, I got married at the exact average age for my demographic.

Stories of loneliness, of feeling forgotten, of not having a place have been shared about singles and the church. More and more stories are coming out – that the “singles ministry” isn’t what is needed. How do we embody the family of God for those who so desperately wish to start their own families?

It’s easy to say, We’re here for you! I’ll give you a hug on Sunday! But that doesn’t fill the day-to-day gap our single friends face. On the other side are people giving the advice of Try harder! Join more groups! You’ll feel loved if you put in more of an effort.

This has made me aware of so many groups who feel abandoned by The Church. Who feel lost or on the outside. Who feel that, no matter how hard they try, needs aren’t being met.

It reminds me of the imperfectness of The Church. The thing is, no one’s needs will ever be met by an institution. Loneliness will still be waiting at home. And yet… If we are The Church; If The Church goes beyond the institution, I wonder how I can stretch outside of my own comfort zone to help make small changes?

Perhaps it’s taking time out of our busy week to invite someone for dinner – mess and grumpy kids and all – because they need a family. Perhaps it’s seeking out someone from a different demographic, who may be different from all my other friends. Perhaps it’s something big like committing to volunteer or something small like sitting in a different section of the sanctuary so that I can meet new people.

What I’m hearing more and more is that The Church simply cannot meet all the needs of all the people. And I don’t think that’s what Jesus had in mind when he came to reframe and restore the covenant God gave his people.

When he calls us to love our neighbor, to care for the least of these, to remember those around us are Jesus personified, I think he’s asking us to be The Church, to step in where institutions simply aren’t capable of going.

I’m sad that our friend left the institution of The Church. But I know that, as long as we’re friends, it’s impossible to actually leave The Church.

Annie RimAnnie Rim lives in Colorado where she values asking questions, community, raising strong kids, and grappling with faith. She finds snippets of time to blog at annierim You can also follow her on Twitter and Instagram.


Can The Church Disagree Without Being Haters?

“What are Christians known for? Outsiders think our moralizing, our condemnations, and our attempts to draw boundaries around everything. Even if these standards are accurate and biblical, they seem to be all we have to offer. And our lives are a poor advertisement for the standards.” – David Kinnaman, Good Faith

Somewhere in the early 80’s I started getting uncomfortable. Someone with a name and influence began speaking for me only they were saying things I didn’t agree with. Even when I did agree, I didn’t like their tone, their finger pointing and judgement.

They gathered up a group of like-minded folks and gave themselves a name: the Moral Majority. It wasn’t long before we were seeing bumper stickers in our secular community saying “The Moral Majority is neither moral nor the majority”.

This group was speaking as if they were the voice of The Church. Our country, and maybe the world, thought they were.

Memphis street preacher

It’s put those of us who make up the church in a tough situation. It’s made every bible believing, Christ following person suspect. It’s made the tenants of the Christian faith nothing more than antiquated rules and its followers uneducated bigots who spout hate and condemnation.

People cast a wary eye on the church-goer. This loud voice speaking on behalf of all of us did more than make us distant from others, it divided us among ourselves. How could anyone be a Christian if they didn’t protest against abortion? Or they voted for a democrat?

I believe in sin. I believe all are born into sin as a result of Adam and Eve’s disobedience. And I believe that God sent His Son, Jesus, to pay the penalty for our sin. To all who call out for Jesus to save us from ourselves, He steps in, forgives and forgets our sin and calls us His own.

This is the good news. This is the good news no one will listen to if our lives don’t show it.

“The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians: who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” Brennan Manning

The world has changed in too many ways to count since the 80’s. Social media records every rant, misspoken word, ill thought joke. Yet the majority of churches, pastors and ministries have a presence on social media. They want to share the good news. But what’s good news?

This is where it gets sticky. Good is only known from bad so what is bad? What is sin to one generation is a lifestyle choice to another. The absolutes that once were are no more. We are a Church living in postmodern times. Every tweeted word is dissected. Every action measured to our words. Are we doing what we’re preaching? 

It can feel like we’re in a no-win situation. If I say homeschooling isn’t for my family, I’m suddenly labeled a hater of homeschooling and maybe I hate kids too. It sounds extreme but we’ve all seen this ridiculousness play out in social media day after day.

There is hope.

The Church has long been labeled haters of the LGBTQ community yet In the wake of the terrible massacre at the gay nightclub in Orlando, The Church opened their arms and wallets to offer comfort for families of the victims. They helped with funeral expenses and offered more than flowers left at the site.

The Body of Christ is speaking out on taking in refugees and getting involved in local foster care. Ministries are organized to fight against human trafficking and community gardens are helping to grow the good news in tangible ways.

Our words won’t garner us accolades or fill the church pews. But our actions, the ones that are louder than words, will take the good news beyond The Church walls. Just where Jesus has been trying to lead us for years.

Church: Is it just a word?

Church is defined by Webster as “a building for public and especially Christian worship”. However, if I had to a guess, when you hear the word “church,” that’s probably not what comes to mind.

Whether you’ve gone to church since you were days old, you are new to the whole “church scene,” or you’ve been there, done that, never going again — we all have our own definitions of church.

Our definitions are shaped by years of genuine community or frightening hypocrisy, biblical preaching or fear tactics, grace and mercy or fire and brimstone.

church more than a word

My personal definition of church continues to be refined throughout life’s seasons. In my childhood, church was a place of Sunday school and animal crackers. It was learning about a felt cutout of some man named Jesus, who loved fuzzy sheep made out of cotton balls.

As the years marched on, and my home address changed with family moves, different churches influenced my life. A huge one where I felt small and unseen among thousands contrasted with a smaller one where everyone may have known my name, but they didn’t  see past my Sunday mask.

With college came a new state with more church experiences. This was a time of changing, of re-creating, and searching. This season brought my first experience of a church with no masks; a congregation who shared hard truths and real life together. I was amazed and, honestly, uncomfortable. What was this church?

Graduation day

Real life began with more church shopping. It was my first Sunday to visit a particular church. During the “Real Stories by Real People” segment of the service, a man stood up in front of hundreds and shared his story. It was messy, heartbreaking, real, authentic, doused with the gasoline of grace, and set aflame with Jesus. I couldn’t believe it — another church, not afraid to be real and raw? A church that pointed to grace instead of rules? A church that focused on living life free in Jesus instead of living life bound by an account of works you had to do for Him?

My definition of church shifted and grew. It changed and morphed into something new. I became engaged deeply at this church. I found a community of men and women who were like-minded, honest, and authentic in both their strengths and their weaknesses. A group who wasn’t afraid to make mistakes, who called out perfection for what it was: impossible. This congregation focused on relationship building instead of intimidation to bring others to Christ.

These Jesus followers changed my definition of church. They challenged me to truly learn about this man called Jesus and to embrace the grace He offered: a grace that involved no stipulations, no pre-requisites. A grace that was the most incomprehensible thing I had ever encountered. I realized my view of Jesus was skewed – I saw Him as an unpleasable Father whose conditional love was directly proportionate to how “good” I could be.

This church community changed my life. They showed me freedom. They taught me that because I receive so much grace daily from my Savior, I should have more grace for myself and others. They taught me what living real, messy, imperfect lives with other believers looks like.

They are why I’ve stayed. They are why I now believe “church” is just a word. It is the people, the community, who make up the church that matters.

Church is a word that can provoke strong negative feelings in many. But when you find Jesus followers who simply use the word “church” to cultivate a community of authenticity, you find you live “church” out daily. Just as the Man who started the church intended.

Jessica ChanceI’m Jessica, Florida born, Texas bread, currently living in and calling North Carolina home with my husband. I love words. Words of all shapes and sizes, tumbling over each other to form thoughts, bold statements, incredible visions, and whispered revelations. Words make a difference, and, in essence, change the world. You can find my blogging at or follow in on Twitter and Instagram.


How can I listen with all this noise?

Listen to the news,
the traffic,
the weather.

Listen to little girl giggles and laughter filling the room.
Listen to sorrow and grief and tears that fall quiet

Listen to joy and sorrow and be thankful for comfort and mercy.


Our world is noisy. It is polluted by the thump, thumping beating through the car next to me, the semi trucks roaring up the overpass, the horns blaring in our impatience.

The world is noisy with politicians yelling and accusing. It’s noisy with the commercials listing the endless side effects of the drugs they tell us we need. It’s noisy with stuff.

Listen to me.
Listen to this song.
Listen to the birds.

Are you listing to the joy above the noise? Are you filtering out the sounds that weigh heavy and pollute our spirit?

Listen to these words.
Listen to her heart.
Listen for His voice.

“Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.” 1 Kings 19:11-12 NLT

Did you find His voice in the gentle whisper? Did you hear him when you shut out the noise?

It’s not easy. It’s not easy for me to turn off the noise. Some are out of our control. And sometimes, the quiet frightens me. I’m afraid of the sounds I’ll hear when all is quiet. Will I hear my heart beat a little faster waiting to hear God’s gentle whisper?

Brennan Manning writes:

“In the act of silence you’re not waiting for God to make a move.
You’re becoming aware of the moves he is making.”

Listen to His silence.

In Search of the Perfect Church

by Lindsey Cornett

A year and a half ago, our family packed up a giant yellow Penske truck and moved from Florida to Michigan. A lot has been challenging about this transition: adjusting to new schedules and routines, living far from family, making new friends, finding a replacement for my beloved Publix and living months at a time with no Chick-Fil-A sandwiches.

In many ways, the most challenging element of our move was finding a new church.

stone church

When my husband and I were long-distance dating, attending his church was one of my favorite things about our visits. I remember where I was sitting the first time I heard someone say the church’s vision out loud. It wasn’t groundbreaking—it’s what God called His people to long ago—but it was the first time I heard God’s vision for Church articulated so clearly. I was hooked.

We couldn’t imagine how soon that community would become our family or that I would spend several years on the church staff in what has been the most fulfilling work of my life to date

Leaving that place felt like heartbreak. We are still mourning the loss.

We began the church hunt our first week in Michigan. There are about 10 million factors you could consider when choosing a church: style of music or preaching, how money is handled, relationship with the neighborhood, age of the congregation, children’s and youth ministry, how visitors are welcomed, denomination, theology, size, location, and so on.

perfect church
Last summer, a neighbor commented that it must be fun to go church-hopping and experience different styles, perspectives, and communities. I smiled and said, “Oh, yeah…” but internally I harrumphed grumpily. It didn’t feel fun at all. Each Sunday, we left church disappointed that we hadn’t found a perfect fit. With that perspective driving us, no church felt right: maybe we were welcomed warmly but had issues with the preaching, or we appreciated what we heard but were distracted by the style. Mostly, we were comparing instead participating.

Just when we thought we’d found a new church home, the teaching pastor announced he was resigning. On our way home I looked at my husband and said, “Why can’t this be easy?”

On the pastor’s last Sunday, he shared a list of things he had learned about church and God during his time with our congregation. Something clicked into place like a buried childhood memory that was rising to the surface again. We aren’t meant to be part of one individual church. We are the church.

I started asking different questions on Sundays, the ones I should have asked from the beginning:

What feels worshipful? Where can we follow Jesus best? Are we learning something new? How can we serve? How are we being transformed more into the image of Christ? As Jesus worked on my heart, I switched from critic to worshipper.

The church isn’t perfect, but there is something to be said for settling. Not settling down or settling for but settling in.

So, here we are again. Settling in, and hopeful.

Lindsey Corentt

Lindsey Cornett is a writer, reader, and mom who is slowly but surely learning to trade perfectionism for freedom. Lindsey writes about what she’s learning about faith, family, and freedom at her blog. She also is one of the writers behind The Drafting Desk, an e-mail newsletter for everyone trying to pursue grace instead of perfection. You can subscribe and learn more at

You can also follow Lindsey on these social media outlets: Instagram and Twitter.

What if The Church were more like AA?

Through our ministry with men in recovery, we’ve been introduced to AA and NA and their many partner groups.

We have become proponents and believers in the Twelve Step program. We see spiritual truths woven through the principles of the steps.  The very core of AA is surrender. It’s what Bill W’s friend told him was the only thing that brought him sobriety: admitting his powerlessness and surrendering to God.

Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over our addiction – that our lives had become unmanageable

We’ve sat in an open Narcotics Anonymous meeting surrounded by people who looked nothing like us (I wanted to believe) and listened to rambling words laced with expletives while others in the group patiently listened and said, “thanks for sharing”.

We watched them welcome the newcomer and comfort the struggling. There were no reserved pews or chairs, no seats of honor. This was just a room in an old building used by this group for the weekly meetings.

warehouse chapel


The preaching was the same week after week: read the 12 Steps and the preamble. You might say they are a liturgical group in that way.

AA operates on itinerant ‘speakers’, people shaped more from experience than education. Even the most educated are brought here by the experience of being broken. One chairs the weekly meetings for a month inviting a different speaker to share their story of redemption. After the message is given others are invited to share. If this were church, we’d call it testimonies.

There are no fees or offering collected only a small basket for coffee money. They drink a lot of coffee. A lot. There are no songs sung, no special talents put on display. All have come admitting their need, admitting their brokenness. Never have the words to the old hymn Just As I Am been more accurate than in a 12-Step meeting.

If The Church were more like AA there would be a coffee pot at the back of every sanctuary, people would come as they are, and everyone would be glad you came.

You’d meet in a spare room of a church or hospital, an otherwise empty space with folding chairs and posters on the wall with slogans reminding you to live “One Day At a Time” and “Let Go and Let God”.

If The Church were more like AA you’d be discipled in a one-on-one relationship where you’d meet weekly with someone who would go through the Big Book with you step by step. They’d give you their phone number and say “call me anytime” and mean it. They’d show you grace but not enable you.

If The Church were more like AA everyone would practice radical honesty and work towards spiritual progress not spiritual perfection. They would seek to let go of resentments and make amends with those they’ve wronged.

The adherents of AA start their day praying for God’s help in doing the next right thing and end their day making a moral inventory, praying for God to reveal areas that need correction or change. Their prayer is, “Your will, not mine”.

If The Church were more like AA it would be overflowing with volunteers. Service is expected in AA. You make the coffee, read the steps, lead the Serenity Prayer, chair a meeting, take a meeting into a rehab Center or detox. It fosters gratitude and humility. It’s faith and works.


There are posers and cliques everywhere. In The Church and every AA, NA or CR meeting you will find  hypocrites and pharisees because we are an imperfect, sinful, messed up lot of people. It seems The Church has gotten better at wearing the masks and covering up the mess. It’s easier to lose ourselves in the praise and worship music and pretend all we need is more prayer to fix ourselves.

If Church were more like AA would you go?

Hi. I’m Debby and I’m a sinner.
(and you say, “thanks for sharing”.)

This is part of a monthly series on The Church. Please add your voice to the conversation.

It’s not me, it’s you: the truth that Christian millennials need our churches to hear

by Racheal Webster

If you’ve been around church at all in the last ten years, you’ve heard the alarming statistics about millennials marching away from church like a disenchanted troop of soldiers on their way to desertion. Type “millennials and church” in your search bar and you will be inundated with information, mostly detailing the characteristics of white American millennials and how churches can win us back.

There are a few nuanced problems with these vague statistics and their misguided solutions.

First, it only holds true for white American millennials. Since The Church is about a thousand shades of brown with a million different accents, this statistic is hardly representative of the broader picture.

Second, this isolated bit of information implies that the problem is generational in nature. The latter is what I want to talk to you about.

I was born in the middle of the millennial generation, free from any straggling Generation X influence and born well before the rise of Generation Z. I’m a millennial purist. I was also raised in church, so I’m here to offer some perspective about millennials and what the church should do with us.


inside stone chapel

Here are three truths:

  • Millennials who reject institutionalized church are rejecting institutionalized church, not Jesus.
  • Millennials expect church to offer something sacred, not culturally stylish.
  • Millennials don’t want to be deceived; we ask questions not to argue but to uncover the truth.

Friends, I offer up the suggestion that Christian millennials are not disenchanted with Jesus; rather, we are disenchanted with a church culture that contradicts the Jesus we know. Take these three truths and replace millennials with unchurched people of any generation. They’re still truths.

The trends say that religion has been on the decline for years, with millennials twice as disconnected from church as their grandparents. This trend awareness has reached pearl-clutching levels because, for the first time in American history, nearly an entire generation is rejecting the dominant religious culture. For the first time in America, the cry of the unchurched harmonizes with the cry of the over-churched.

Remember the telephone game? Someone whispers a message that gets whispered around to the whole group and in the end it sounds nothing like the original. That’s what’s happening here. The popular gospel in American churches doesn’t sound anything like the original anymore. My generation is the last kid in line; we are hearing the garbled message that’s been unintentionally added to and misinterpreted for a whole lot of years.

It’s time we stop widening the generation gap. All of our discussions about worship music and church programs and locations and buildings and merchandise are pushing us further apart. It’s time for reconciliation, and I’m willing to bet that most millennials still hanging out in churches want that more than anybody.

It’s time we gather round the table as a family and reference the original Message once more. It’s time to sort out the timeless truths from the fleeting customs. It’s time for a rummage sale, Church. Let’s stop wringing our hands, roll up our sleeves, and start sorting junk. We have to clear out some religious clutter to make space for the people waiting to be invited in. Hasn’t that always been the idea? To kindly invite more people in?

If we really want millennials (or anyone) to know Jesus, let’s stop dreaming up ways to market Jesus to the generation who despises shallow advertising and make room for Jesus to show up. Instead of worrying about filling up buildings, let’s go out and invite people to come into this ancient-future community of disciples living in relationship with a holy Creator-Redeemer. That’s all we were ever called to do.

Racheal WRacheal is an intellectual girl stuck in a creative body. She loves Jesus, and most of the time she loves His church. She is stubborn about grace and has discovered that God is nothing like she believed. She wants to see women chasing after God with wild abandon so that they can discover that, as well. You can find her writing at rachealwebster and connect with her on  Instagram.


When Going to Church Helps Me Stretch

“Mom, cereal?” She asks, as I’m gathering my thoughts and coffee for the morning.

I’m not ready for this, I think. I hadn’t heard her come down the steps. I stretch, releasing the  ­tight muscles cramped from sleeping. I’m buying time or what’s going to be a lot of questions peppered at me in rapid fire.

“Did you forget about my drink again?” “Mom, are you awake?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Are we still going to church?”

She pesters me with questions, as usual, so early in the morning
“Yes”, I answer as I sit down with coffee, bad hair and bad breath. “Yes.”

She snorts and grumbles under her breath.I ignore and press on. The importance of church, despite all the things that make it hard to show up, including people.

“It’s hard and not always great but we go because we need it,” I begin.”Because we need it.”

I cannot express that enough; we need it, I need it. Some Sundays I need it to get through my week with my pre­pre­teen daughter who has strong opinions about all things, including my mothering and down to exactly how her school lunch should be made.

“But it’s so boring,” she complains, that long drawn out drawl of a whine that all mothers live for. I counter with words about how boring can be good for us, make us grow, stretch, and then say “I understand,” remembering a great deal about my church growing up and a countless number of committee meetings, dry sermons, and all the other things I’ve sat through over the years.

church stretch

FtL corps

I still go and make my family go (especially on those days they look at me like a martian when I say “church, yes, today.”) Despite the people, because of the people.I need to see God in action, in community, in the face of my neighbor in the pew. A face that may not look like mine and may be the last person I expect to see there.

I go to come face to face with the God I love and the people I love, though some of them have big hair matching their big egos, wear too much perfume and fumble around with mints in their purse as if that was their sole purpose of the day.

I go to be challenged, to be reminded of the beauty and the frailty of myself and others.
I’ve been lost too long in my thoughts.

“Mom?” she says, bringing me back to the present and the fact that she’s impatient for an answer. “Why church?” I start, “Because, sweet pea,” I say….”We need it. We need God and each other. Community is hard but loving, and people want to know about you. I need to sing the songs off key and be in the presence of God and his people. Because I need to know the world is greater than me, and I need to teach you that.”

kk in church

She listens, letting it sink in though I can tell she’s not entirely convinced. but I can tell she’s heard me. She will be paying close attention in church to see if my hypothesis is correct.

Meanwhile, I heat up the cold coffee, and go through the list in my head, the one that is ready for the sermon but also on a mission:

I need to go today because I need to see the kids try and tip over the Epiphany candle.
I need to hear the sermon and sing the songs.
I need to see hankies passed from pew neighbor to neighbor, friends or not.
I need to go to ask Kathy how her daughter is.

I need the reminder I’m not alone. That there is Jesus and there are people, imperfect to boot, to help us through this journey called life.

Why do I go to church? Because I need to stretch.

LBR image for bylineLiz Rasley is a writer who loves God, family, laughing out loud and writing. Doesn’t exactly love the laundry though. But has made peace with that. Mostly.

More of her writing can be found on her website, where she writes about the intersection of life, faith, and yes, laundry:


Heal me!

I expect we’ve all prayed for healing. Mostly for others. We pray for God to heal a grandparent of cancer. We pray for healing for a church member or our neighbor. Some days it seems we’re surrounded by people who need the healing touch of Jesus.

Can I confess to you that I think my prayers for healing are a bit half-hearted? That’s not something a person of faith should say is it? I’m not proud of my lacking in this area. I have prayed sincere prayers that God would reach down and heal, right now, a friend. A parent. But I’m not sure I expected it to happen. Not in some miraculous way. I believe I would have been surprised had Linda or Quincy recovered immediately from their cancer. Pleasantly and joyfully surprised but I wonder if my prayers for healing are lacking.

You see we viewed the ‘faith-healers’ as jokes. The ones reaching out and slapping people on the heads on televised shows. The pretenders.

There were many prayers for healing in my church but not any healing miracles. Folks eventually recovered from their back aches or bronchitis. Surgeries were successful to remove the benign tumors or repair broken bones. But when my best friends melanoma turned into brain cancer we prayed hard for healing and the answer was no.

Maybe I’m not seeing the real healing. Or maybe it’s my faith that needs to be healed. It’s not comfortable to carry the title ‘ordained’ and wrestle with faith.

prayer can heal

Sociologist and pastor Tony Campelo told a story about being compelled to offer prayers for healing. Each Sunday after their worship service, he invited anyone who needed healing to stay and he would pray for them, anointing them with oil. He knew God was leading him to do this.

In the months that he prayed for specific healing for people, no one was healed. Not one persons physical ailments went away. But, he began to get notes and messages of emotional bonds that were strengthened. Marriages that were made stronger. There was healing, but of a different kind.

It’s more than physical maladies Jesus wants to heal. Maybe that’s where I start. Heal me from my skepticism, Lord. Heal me too.

Linking up with Five-Minute Friday

There Is Hope for Alzheimer’s Forgotten Children

Mama in church
We said our earthly goodbye earlier this year. But she had been gone a long time. Our grief began eight years before Mama died.

She was the last parent I had. Daddy died too early and now she was dying a slow death before our eyes. Nancy Reagan called Alzheimer’s the “long goodbye”.

They say there are times you’ll never forget: your wedding day, the birth of your children, those landmark events in life.

But she did. She forgot the times, the milestones, and the memories. She forgot she was a pastor, forgot my dad and forgot me.

Alzheimer’s does that. It robs those things you’ve tucked away in your memory, the moments you whisper to another, “We’ll never forget this day”.

We never imagined it would happen to this vibrant woman. We didn’t know she wouldn’t remember her three children or her eight grandchildren. We didn’t know her memory would crumble into pieces of our past.

I’m over at The Mudroom today, sharing a story about hope that’s found when memory is lost. Won’t you join me?