I’ve been nominated to join the Church Vestry: a huge honor. The first task was to pen a little blurb about myself for the Redeemer News and it went like this:
Britt Lee found The Church of the Redeemer in 2008 when The Lee Family was looking for intelligent, poignant, and witty sermons (and the option to enjoy them without the children). Smitten with the Rector and Sunday School, Britt found herself joining every committee listed in the Announcements. She has enjoyed being a member of the Sunday School Committee, co-chairing the Christmas Market, and being both a part of and a grateful recipient of the Pastoral Care Committee. She has a whole bunch of science degrees, but is lucky to ignore them and stay home quizzing small boys to be better than yours at math. When she isn’t blogging about Breast Cancer, she’s buying new plants that refuse to grow in her shade garden. She has pom pom wielding enthusiasm for our Church and is thrilled to join another Redeemer group where fellowship and love bring joy to any work done in His name.
This is somewhat of a lighter tone than the other biographies with their rather more impressive employment histories and societal contributions and talents. What I lack in accomplishments, I attempted to bolster with goofy wit. Mr. T (his wife’s pet name for my favorite Church “elder”) mimed an adorable rah rah rah as I sallied down the aisle last Sunday, suggesting my ebullience for all things Redeemer was evident from that handful of sentences, at least for him. And yet… in the midst of current discussions (and self-flagellation) regarding the effect of the published word, I received a note from the Church Office. A fellow parishioner mailed in an edited version of my silly bio, correcting my usage of “pom pom.” Surely, I didn’t intend to convey “anti-aircraft artillery”-wielding enthusiasm for our Church! This lover of words felt strongly enough about my simile to put a pen to paper and stamp to envelope for edification. Now, I’m rather obsessed with meeting him.
Most likely, this brilliant man (who lived through WWII) was just struck by my word choice. Though I intended to summon the image of a tight-sweatered girl in pigtails, this reader conjured guns and death. Was he being funny? professorial? silly? or just kind of bored with Monday’s jumble? I need to know. I fantasize that we develop this deep kinship based on Writing, Faith, History, and Life. He’ll impart great, charming wisdom and lead me to some higher road where I never again write anything that could harm anyone. This is probably taking my romantic notions of all elders a little far, but forgive the fancy… I’m missing my favorite neighborhood ancients.
Once again I’m blown away by the work of the Holy Spirit here (less annoyingly Zealot types might call this “coincidence”—take your pick), reminding me that my little musings could feel like the rapid firing of so many angry guns. At Bible Study today (yes, BIBLE STUDY), we discussed word choice at great length. The King James version of John warns against the Wrath of God, yet other interpretations are kinder regarding the fate of people who fail to know Him. I’ll always favor the sunnier interpretations. I see rainbows and lollipops and cheerleaders instead of clouds and cavities and acts of war. My next writing assignment is to pen a cheery little letter to my newest (oldest) editor, cross-referencing each word with Wikipedia lest I unwittingly fall onto some horrifying Holocaust allusion in an attempt at bon mot. Wish me luck: I’ve got a great lunch-at-the-retirement-home outfit at the ready.