By Vanessa Rasanen Above the exit of our church lies a sign — “The sermon is over. The service begins.” Or something like that (stupid mom-brain). This is the gist, though, and often when I pass under those words I think to myself “Wait. What was the sermon about again?” Some Sundays I can’t even recall the readings for the day — any of them. You’d think out of the Psalms, Old Testament, Epistle and Gospel I’d be able to remember at least one of them. But nope. Mom-brain is part of the problem, for sure. No, really. Every child seems to make my memory so. much. worse. But it’s not…