Being Known

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “Sounds like another vintage treasure.” Sierra held up her goblet again. “This water is so refreshing. What did you add besides cucumber?”

  Tess showed us one of her bottles of essential oils and explained how she prepared a large container of infused water every morning and kept it in her refrigerator. She said she always took a water bottle with her whenever she left the house and that way made sure she drank enough throughout the day.

  “I’m going to start adding oils to my water,” Sierra said. “I love this.”

  “Make sure you check first,” Tess said. “Not all of them should be ingested. My go-to edible oils are peppermint, lemon, and grapefruit. There are others you can add, but those are my favorites.”

  I slowly peeled back the clear wrapping from my plate of cookies Tess had placed on the counter. The others watched as if I were demonstrating a delicate surgical procedure. “What do you think? Are they still edible?”

  “Of course.” Tess opened one of her cupboards, revealing tidy stacks of plates, mugs, and bowls. She put five small plates on the counter.

  “We can use spoons if we need to,” Emily suggested. “They’ll still taste the same.”

  “I put together a charcuterie board for us.” Tess took two steps toward the narrow refrigerator.

  “A what?” Sierra asked.

  Tess pulled out a round tray on which cured meats and scrumptious-looking appetizers had been artistically arranged.

  “That’s beautiful,” Christy said. “Tess, you design everything.”

  Tess smiled. “I love doing things like this.”

  “Joel would be impressed,” I said. “What am I saying? I’m impressed. What a feast.” I began assessing the items, trying to memorize the way she’d placed them to create such a gorgeous mix of colors, shapes, and patterns. I probably should have taken out my phone and shamelessly snapped a photo.

  Tess had anchored the design with a circle of plump green olives in the center. A line of square crackers plus dark orange cheese cut into small rectangular slices was fanned out next to a clump of glistening cherry tomatoes. Extra color came from yellow and green peppers, sliced horizontally to keep their natural flower shape, positioned next to a cluster of baby carrots. Rounds of salami formed rosettes, and sticks of jicama and plump red grapes dotted across the entire arrangement.

  “I almost don’t want to take something because it will mess up the mosaic,” Emily said.

  “No, please. Enjoy it. Does anyone want something hot to drink?”

  Even though we were in a new place, Tess’s haven soon felt like home to all of us, and we were nibbling and chatting the way we love to. We stood encircling the counter as we snacked. But once the tea was ready, we headed for the sofa. Tess pulled the two chairs over and the space was just right for the five of us.

  Before I sat down, I went over to the sliding glass door that dominated the back side of her duplex. All was dark, but I could see that she had a narrow deck. “Do you sit outside much?”

  “Not often. My neighbor and his wife do. They have bird feeders and sit out there with their binoculars. Beyond the deck is a bank of trees full of special birds. I know nothing about birds, but my neighbors update me on their latest sightings.”

  “That’s sweet,” Emily said.

  “It is.” Tess tilted her head. I recognized her body language and knew she was frustrated.

  “Not an ideal situation?” I asked.

  “Let’s just say that sometimes I feel like I’m living in a retirement home. I’ve thought of moving, but my rent is lower than anything else I could find that’s this nice and this close to both LA and Orange County. For now, I’m okay.”

  I took the open seat next to Emily on the sofa and leaned back. The couch seemed to fit the way a favorite pair of slippers would. I leaned my head on Emily’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. Emily chuckled and leaned her head on mine. Peace reigned around our sweet circle.

  Tess started the conversation by saying, “I have a small confession to make.”

  Emily and I straightened up, and we all tuned in. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one wondering if her confession had anything to do with Guy.

  “I confess that I don’t have a word for the year. I know the plan for tonight was to share our words, but I don’t have one. So, who wants to go first?”

  I leaned over and gently removed a bit of pink icing from Tess’s hair. The rest of us were drinking tea and hot cocoa. Tess had filled one of her coffee cups with the broken heart crumbs and was eating them with a spoon.

  She grinned at me, and I grinned back. I don’t think any of the others knew that when we were together like this, each of them was filling up the place inside me that had gone dry when my mother left this earth. She had been so in tune with my heart and so in touch with my daily life. It now took four exceptional women to fill the missing space. I wanted to tell them, but as was often the case, my feelings came at me in a big gush in moments like this. I kept quiet, not knowing how to put the enormous emotions into tiny words.

  Sierra spoke up, and I was glad of it. “I’ll go first. My word is wait, and I’m mad.”

  “You’re mad about your word for the year?” Christy frowned.

  “Not really mad. It’s more like I’m bummed because who wants to wait for anything? Not me.”

  “I think wait is a great word,” Emily said. “It means something is coming. You’re just supposed to patiently expect that at the right time it will come. You wait for God to work it out.”

  “Well, all I know is that I’m waiting for our own place to live. I want to feel settled.”

  “I know that feeling,” Emily said. “A big house isn’t everything, though. We had that in North Carolina before we moved here. I like what you said, Christy, about a home being made of love alone.”

  I almost spoke up, taking my cue from Emily’s last sentence to share that my word was love. But Christy shared next.

  “Sierra, I get what you’re saying about being bummed about your word. My word is trust. I’ve already had to trust God in deeper ways in some areas, and it makes me nervous.”

  “Nervous? Christy, I can’t believe you’re saying that your word makes you nervous.” Sierra went into the kitchen and filled her empty mug with cookie crumbs, as Tess had.

  “Well, it does.” Christy grinned. “It’s like I’m waiting for something difficult to happen. I didn’t feel that way in January when it settled on me. I think I’m looking for problems.”

  “But you’re the initiator of all this,” Sierra said. “I never would expect you to feel that way.”

  Christy shrugged. “We all have our moments.”

  “You guys,” I leaned in. “I don’t think these words for the year are like fortune cookie messages or prophecies that we’re supposed to somehow go out and self-fulfill.”

  “You’re right,” Christy said.

  All eyes were on me, and I realized I sounded more assertive than usual. I softened my tone. “Don’t you think we should see our word for the year as sort of a whisper from God? Christy, you told me one time how your word for the year was like a love note from the Lord. I always loved the poetic imagery of that.”

  “That’s because you love to bring the sacred into everyday moments,” Tess said.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “It’s your superpower,” Sierra said.

  I must have still looked confused because Tess explained, “You like things that are set apart and celebrated. That’s why you started inviting us to gather. You showed us how to go deeper and create community that has substance to it.”

  “It’s true,” Emily said. “We’ve all felt it, Jennalyn. You bring beauty and a sense of reverence to our gatherings, and we all started copying you in one way or another.”

  I felt my face warming at the complim
ents.

  “Now I’m curious to hear your word,” Tess said.

  I cleared my throat. “My word is love.”

  I got a couple of “oohs and aahs,” as if I had picked the cutest puppy in the litter.

  “Since you guys made those generous comments about sacredness and doing things on purpose, I have to say in full disclosure that it’s not as if I spent a lot of time thinking about my word. I also realize I may have been influenced by all the valentines and pink hearts in my world lately.”

  “Don’t diminish it,” Emily said. “You asked Him for a word, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s yours,” Emily said. “After all the ways you DOEs have influenced me, I now happen to believe that God can use anything or anyone to impress specific thoughts on us. Even heart-shaped cookies.”

  “Or crumbs,” Sierra said before spooning the last of hers into her mouth.

  “You’re right, Emily,” Christy said. “And Jennalyn, what you said about the love notes—that was a good reminder. I shouldn’t be nervous. I’m glad you said that.”

  Christy turned to Emily with an open palm gesture as if handing off an invisible baton. “What’s your word?”

  “I like my word, peace,” Emily grinned. “I found it when I was reading Proverbs. The chapter talks about seeking wisdom, and the verse says, ‘Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.’ I love that verse. It’s so poetic.”

  “Say it again,” Christy said.

  Emily repeated, “ ‘Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.’ ”

  “That sounds like the essence of you, Emily,” Christy said.

  “What verse is that? Proverbs what?” Sierra pulled out her phone and had the answer before Emily could reply. “Oh, I see it. Proverbs 3:17. It might be talking about wisdom, but it really does sound like you, Em. Your ways are ways of pleasantness, that’s for sure.”

  “I liked the part about ‘all her paths are peace.’ ” Emily grinned. “I’ve walked down plenty of paths that have not been peaceful at all.”

  “Right there with ya, sister,” Sierra said.

  I noticed, as I had more than once, that Emily had a subtle beauty to her. More of a loveliness than a beauty. It was her countenance. She was quiet and petite, unobtrusive and kind. Her hair was short and thin, with a tendency to spiral in ways that made her appear as if she had been out in the rain. I liked the winsomeness of her demeanor and the way she had become such a pillar of strength in our group by simply always being there for each of us.

  Artistic possibilities spun through my mind of how I might paint a small gift for each of my friends that would include their banner word.

  “I may not have a word,” Tess said. “But I do have a thought. May I share something, and you tell me what you think?”

  “Of course,” I answered for all of us.

  “I read this the other day, and I keep thinking about it. Let’s say you’re seeking God about something, and you sit by a window and open your Bible. A breeze turns the pages to exactly the verse you needed. Would you think that was a coincidence?”

  None of us answered at first.

  “What if, from the beginning of time when God put every weather pattern into motion, He already knew you would sit exactly where you did, when you did, with the questions you had on your heart? What if He knew precisely when the breeze would come to turn the page and that your eye would fall on that verse?”

  “Then it wouldn’t be a coincidence,” Christy said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Tess said. “God already knows. He’s already there before things happen.”

  “That’s intense,” Sierra said.

  “I know,” Tess agreed. “What you guys were saying about how you got your words for the year made me think it’s not capricious, is it? I mean, you’re asking; so when a word is impressed on you in whatever way, for whatever reason, God’s fingerprints are on it.”

  “Like a love note,” Emily said.

  Tess stood and sauntered into the kitchen where she poured another glass of cucumber water. “God knows us by heart, doesn’t He?”

  Again, none of us answered with words. Our response was a mutual nodding of heads.

  Tess returned. “Here’s my next question: Do you think it’s not a coincidence then, that I met Guy? I mean, met him when I did? When his marriage was coming apart?”

  “I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Christy said. “But I think we always have the ability to choose what we do in a situation. How we respond. Do we honor God and follow His Word? Or not. That’s always the tension.”

  “Do you guys agree? Does it come down to our free will?” Tess asked.

  “I think so,” Emily said.

  The room felt hushed as both Sierra and I nodded our agreement to what Christy and Emily had said.

  “Interesting.” Tess didn’t say any more. I wanted her to open up. Instead, she changed the subject. I think we all were feeling unsure about whether we should ask more in-depth questions about Guy or wait and let her tell us what she wanted, when she wanted.

  “I haven’t shown you the rest of the place. Do you want a tour? It won’t take long. Two bedrooms and one bathroom.” She stood and motioned for us to join her.

  She showed us her bedroom first. The first thing we noticed was the dramatic headboard.

  “It came from Spain,” Tess explained. “At least that’s what the guy at the Pasadena Swap Meet told me. It’s the door of an old hacienda.”

  I wasn’t as crazy about the carved wood headboard as I was about the poufy and inviting ivory comforter. “Eden would want to jump on your bed.”

  Tess laughed. “Christy made the pillows for me for Christmas. I love them. I kept dropping hints to her that I needed something fresh and white with texture.”

  “They’re made from old linen tablecloths that I bleached and then added the extra details from scraps I had.”

  “Gorgeous,” I said. “Now I know to drop hints to you for my next birthday.”

  We took turns peeking into the bathroom. It was small and badly needed a renovation. The original salmon-colored tile ran across the small counter and up the wall. Tess had hung a huge, framed mirror so that it covered a lot of the tile wall, but not enough.

  “And here’s my office.” Tess opened the door to the second bedroom, which was larger than hers. Three standing racks were packed with outfits that were neatly hung and labeled. One wall had floor-to-ceiling shelves with labeled bins.

  Under the small window was a file cabinet with a basket on top filled with loose papers. Above the window was a shelf lined with matching white binders. The built-in closet doors were full-length mirrors. The reflection made it seem as if the racks of clothes continued into another matching space.

  “This is amazing!” Sierra took it all in as if she were at one of her favorite shops.

  “I’m trying to get organized enough to have clients come here sometimes so I can style them on the spot rather than always hauling outfits everywhere.” Tess straightened the sleeve of a white blouse on its hanger and adjusted the collar.

  “I’d love to come here and be styled,” Sierra said. “How much do you charge?”

  “For you,” Tess tapped her finger at the side of her mouth and looked up as if she was trying to calculate the price. “How about a personal tour of all your favorite vintage shops in Orange?”

  “I’m serious,” Sierra said.

  “So am I,” Tess replied. “Here. Let’s start on you now.” She pulled an expensive-looking leather jacket from one of racks. “I think this is your size. Try it on.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Tess looked like she was in her happy place, and Sierra was about to become her newest runway model. I secretly hoped Sierra woul
dn’t be the only one who would be blessed tonight with a Tess styling consultation. If she was, I told myself to be happy for Sierra.

  A thought from the 1 Corinthians chapter on love came to mind. Love is not jealous.

  I watched Sierra pull her mane of free-flowing blond curls out from the back of the jacket and catch a glimpse of her classed-up image in the mirror. She looked stunning.

  I’ll admit, I was a teeny bit jealous.

  Chapter 10

  Sierra turned to the right and left, admiring her reflection in the fitted cocoa brown–colored jacket. “I look rich.”

  We all laughed and then hushed ourselves, remembering the neighbors.

  “I always wear flowy, earth-child outfits,” Sierra said.

  “I know.” Tess grinned. “And I love you in them. Just realize that you are a woman with options. One day you might need something different to wear, and when you do, think classic.”

  “Classic,” Sierra repeated.

  “You have a perfectly proportioned figure. That’s why you can wear clothing that’s more fitted, with classic lines. If you ever do want to look a little more LA than Laguna Beach, I would put you in this jacket, a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans, a nice quality white tee, and a single long chain necklace. Preferably gold. Like this one.”

  Tess put a necklace over Sierra’s head and pulled her bulky shirt back so that the jacket became the featured item and not her many-layered cotton top.

  “Wow,” Emily said. “You’re so slim!”

  “Not really,” Sierra said.

  “You do look classy,” Christy said.

  “I feel classy in this jacket.” Sierra lifted the price tag. “Whoa! I’ve never spent that much on clothing, ever. Why would you tempt a thrift-store girl with something like this?”

  “Here’s the thing,” Tess said in her professional-sounding voice. “If you invest in a few classic pieces that don’t go out of style, they will last for a decade or more. You’ll find you’re actually saving money by not having to replace lesser-quality items that fall apart quickly.”