Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 3 Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 3

by Robin Jones Gunn

  When Sierra reached home, Vicki called and said a bunch of Sierra’s friends were going out that night. Sierra would have loved to get out of the house, away from family, and be with her friends for a few hours. But she had made a commitment to help out that night at the Highland House with its new teen hotline. She knew she couldn’t cancel, so she told Vicki she couldn’t go. Immediately, she began to feel sorry for herself. Randy, Vicki, and the rest of her friends were going to have one last blast of fun before returning to school, while Sierra was going to be responsible and do her duty. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

  Her only consolation was that maybe the phones wouldn’t ring much, and she could spend the time working on her needlepoint. To add to her unhappiness, she was concerned that the day was nearly gone, and she hadn’t gotten any pictures taken. She needed to start on that project right away. Maybe tomorrow.

  Only a few people were at the Highland House when she arrived. Parking in back, she hurried to the office. The director, Uncle Mac, was there with a college-age girl, and they both were on the phones when Sierra walked in. Uncle Mac waved and motioned for her to go to the third phone, which was located in a small cubicle against the wall. The Highland House had started this outreach a few months earlier, and their facilities and resources were limited. That’s why Sierra wanted to help. With her work and school schedule, she didn’t have much time to volunteer, and this hotline program seemed to be the best way to contribute to the Highland House’s work.

  Taking off her jacket and settling into the cubicle, Sierra put her Bible, her notes from the training course, and her needlepoint on the table in front of her. She had just threaded the needle when the phone rang. Glancing out of the cubicle, she saw Uncle Mac motion for her to pick it up, since he was still on a call, as was the other girl. Sierra reached for the phone on the second ring.

  “Highland House Teen Hotline,” she answered. “This is Sierra.”

  Her heart began to race. Even after all the training she had received on how to respond to the calls that came into this homeless shelter, she felt uneasy about how this, her first call, would go.

  “I read one of your brochures,” said the female voice on the other end of the line. “The one on purity.”

  “Yes?” Sierra was familiar with the brochure. It explained the health reasons for abstinence and included some verses from the Bible about purity.

  “Well, I have a question.”

  From the girl’s voice, Sierra guessed she was around Sierra’s age or younger. That was the strength of the teen hotline program, according to Uncle Mac. Teens were more willing to talk to another teen than to an adult when it came to certain problems.

  “I was wondering,” the girl said slowly. “I mean, I agree with what this brochure says about being pure and saving yourself for marriage and everything, but what if …” Her voice faltered. Sierra thought the girl was crying.

  “Yes?” Sierra prodded gently.

  “What if you’re not pure? What if …” The voice broke into a sob.

  “It’s okay,” Sierra said. She flipped through her training notes until she found the paper marked “Purity.”

  “What if,” the girl asked, “you want to be like that—pure, I mean—but it’s already too late?”

  “I understand,” Sierra said. “It’s okay.”

  “I can only stay on the phone for a few more minutes,” the girl said. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

  Sierra drew in a breath of courage. “There is a way to start over. God made a way for all of us to start fresh with Him and with others. In 1 John 1:9, the Bible says that ‘if we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ ”

  Sierra looked up from her notes and tried to make her answer to this caller sound more natural. “What that means is that all we have to do is admit to God that we messed up. Once we tell Him we need Him and ask Him to forgive us, He makes us clean. We have a fresh start.”

  The caller didn’t say anything. Sierra looked up at the wall and glanced at the sign over the bulletin board. “At the Highland House,” she said to the caller in as gentle a voice as possible, “our motto is, ‘A safe place for a fresh start,’ and that’s exactly what Jesus is willing to offer you. A fresh start on the inside.”

  Then speaking almost as rapidly as she felt her heart was beating, Sierra finished with, “What I’d like to encourage you to do is first make a commitment to the Lord and fully surrender yourself to Him. Then make a commitment to yourself and to your future husband. Promise that the next time you have sex will be after you’re married. Don’t settle for less than God’s best for you.”

  There was silence on the other end. For a moment Sierra worried that the caller had hung up and that all her advice had evaporated into thin air.

  “Do you really believe all that?” the caller asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Sierra answered quickly.

  “I mean, did you just read that, or do you really agree with what you said?”

  “I believe it,” Sierra said firmly. “I agree with it because everything God says is true. If He promises to make us clean when we come to Him asking for forgiveness, then that’s what He does. It’s based on His promises and His Word. Not on what we feel.”

  “Well, I have to go,” the caller said. “Thanks. I need some time to think about what you said.”

  “Call any time.”

  A click sounded on the other end, and Sierra’s heart sank. She would have felt so much better if the caller had said, “Oh, thank you so much! That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I’m going to pray right now, and I know everything will be better.” Instead, the click of the line going dead echoed in Sierra’s ear.

  Two hours later, when her shift ended, she talked to Uncle Mac about how she felt. The next six calls had gone about the same.

  “The first call I took was the hardest, though,” Sierra said. “It made me feel as though I didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, I have the answers here and here,” Sierra said, pointing to her head and to the notebook in front of her. “And I believe them here.” She patted her heart. “But it has to be hard to see things clearly when you’re caught in the middle of a situation.”

  Uncle Mac nodded. “It is hard. We’re complex human beings. It’s not just our minds or our bodies that direct us. We have complicated emotions and that blessed and cursed free will God gave us. We choose every day, all day long, what we want to do.”

  “I know, but what if someone didn’t choose for herself? What about the first caller I had? All she said was that she wasn’t pure like the Highland House brochure described. What if that hadn’t been her choice? I mean, what if she had been, you know, raped? I was going through the information on asking forgiveness, but what if it wasn’t her choice that she wasn’t a virgin anymore?”

  Uncle Mac nodded knowingly. “First she needs to know she didn’t do anything wrong. Did you give her the 800 number in the back of the manual for the sexual abuse counseling service?”

  Sierra bit her lower lip and shook her head. “I forgot.”

  “You’ll remember next time. It takes a while to become familiar with all the material and remember what to say in each situation. There’s no sense worrying about it now. Trust that God used your willing heart as you talked to her and pray that He’ll lead her to the next step.”

  With a sigh, Sierra said, “This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. Each situation is different, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and each person is different. That’s how God sees us: unique and wonderfully made. He works in each heart and life in a different way. The only sure direction, the only true answer to any problem, is to come to God and turn everything over to Him.”

  Uncle Mac gave Sierra a few more pointers and thanked her for volunteering her time. As she gathered up her things to leave, the Mackenzie-crest needlework slid off the table. Uncle Mac picked it up.

  “
‘Lucero non uro,’ ” he said in surprise “That’s my family crest. Do you know what our motto means?”

  “I think it’s ‘I shine, not burn.’ ”

  “Exactly,” Uncle Mac said, looking impressed. He paused and then said with a smile, “Do you mind if I ask who this is for?”

  “It’s for Paul.” Sierra felt a little awkward. Did Uncle Mac have any idea Sierra was dating his nephew through the mail?

  “Really.” It was a statement, not a question. He looked as if he were processing the information, trying to decide what he thought of this connection between the two of them. A gentle grin came across his face. “For any special occasion?”

  “For Christmas,” Sierra said, carefully putting the needlework in her backpack. “If I get it done, that is. It’s taking a lot longer than I thought.”

  “Ah, but therein lies the value,” Uncle Mac said, walking her to her car. “All things that hold lasting value in our lives take a long time to work on. Even relationships. Especially relationships.”

  As Uncle Mac opened her door, Sierra knew he was trying to convey some message to her. She wanted to tell him this relationship wasn’t one-sided. Paul wrote to her all the time, and he was as committed to their relationship as she was. But that kind of validation probably needed to come from Paul, not from Sierra. She decided not to say anything in her own defense. Instead, she would mention it to Paul and let him enlighten his own uncle.

  Just before Uncle Mac shut Sierra’s car door, he smiled at her and said, “Thanks for your help tonight. You did fine. If I could give you any words of wisdom, I’d encourage you to think of 1 Corinthians 13.”

  “The love chapter?” Sierra asked. She had expected him to say, “Go home and read your counseling manual again so you’ll be better prepared.”

  “Yes, the love chapter. What’s the first characteristic listed?”

  Sierra thought quickly. “ ‘Love is patient’?”

  “Exactly. ‘Love is patient.’ There, that’s my word of wisdom for you.” He closed her door and waved.

  Sierra drove the short distance home trying to decipher Uncle Mac’s message. Was he saying she needed to be patient with herself as she learned how to do this counseling? That she needed to be patient with the people who called in? Or was he trying to protect his nephew by telling her that if she truly loved Paul she would be patient?

  “ ‘Love is patient,’ “Sierra repeated aloud as she parked the car in front of her house. “I can be patient.”

  nine

  “HOW WAS YOUR WEEKEND?” Randy asked Sierra on Monday morning. He leaned against her locker, greeting her with his usual cheerfulness and crooked grin.

  “Well, let’s see,” Sierra said. “Our house caught on fire on Thanksgiving Day, my sister is mad at me, and last night on the Highland House hotline, I think I did permanent damage to every single person I talked to. I guess it was a good weekend. How was yours?”

  “Your house caught on fire?” Randy said, extracting the crisis that most intrigued him.

  “While my dad was praying, the marshmallows on top of the sweet potatoes caught on fire and ruined the oven and the cabinets above it. The house still smells awful. We’re supposed to get the new oven tomorrow.”

  “Did the fire engine come?”

  “Yes, the fire engine came.”

  “Cool.”

  Sierra shook her head at her take-everything-in-stride buddy. “It was not my favorite Thanksgiving. How was yours?”

  “Boring compared with yours.”

  “Hey, I heard from Vicki that your band is going to play at The Beet next Friday. That’s great, Randy!”

  He nodded, not appearing overly impressed with his own success. The Beet was a nightclub for teens in downtown Portland that offered music and nonalcoholic beverages on the weekends. Randy and his band had been together for only few months, but they had worked long, hard hours to get their sound just right. A gig at The Beet represented a breakthrough.

  “Now here’s the big question,” Sierra said, slamming her locker shut as the bell rang. “What are you guys going to call yourselves?”

  “We’ve narrowed it down,” Randy said. “It’s either The Smarties or The Slaymeyets.”

  “Where did that one come from?”

  “The book of Job where he says, ‘Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him.’ Get it? Slay-me-yet.”

  “It sounds like Slimey-ettes.”

  “I know. That’s the problem.”

  “So you have to come up with a name by Friday.”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  Sierra and Randy entered their first-period class. He put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. “All suggestions from friends will be cheerfully considered.”

  Sierra laughed. “Okay. I’ll get serious about thinking up a name for you guys now that you’re practically employed and everything. They are going to pay you for Friday night, aren’t they?”

  Randy shrugged. “We didn’t ask.”

  As Sierra slid into her seat, a few possible names came to mind. For fun she jotted them down, just to see if they sparked other thoughts.

  By lunchtime Sierra’s list contained seventeen names. She read them off to her friends, who had gathered at Lotsa Tacos for a quick, off-campus lunch.

  “How about The Moths?” Tre asked out of the blue as Sierra went down her list. Tre was from Cambodia, and Sierra often wondered what he thought when his friends became loud and rowdy, since his nature was to be reserved.

  “That doesn’t give a pretty image,” Vicki said. She sipped her diet soda and scrunched up her petite nose. Vicki was gorgeous, in Sierra’s opinion. As a matter of fact, Vicki was everything Sierra thought she was not. Vicki’s green eyes and silky brown hair complemented her delicate features and smooth skin. Whenever Sierra looked at Vicki, Sierra wished she didn’t have freckles and that a swish of a mascara wand would do to her eyes what it did to Vicki’s. Paul had said when he first met Sierra that he liked her not wearing makeup.

  The whisper of a memory of Paul made Sierra swallow. She wondered if anyone noticed the way a smile crept up her face and refused to leave. She wished Paul were here now, with her buddies. He would like them. He would have great comments to make. He might even have the perfect name for the group on the tip of his tongue.

  “The Moths,” Randy repeated, trying to decide if he liked it. “Maybe. You know, moths are drawn to light, and we’re drawn to God’s light.”

  “Yeah, but moths flock to the lightbulb and then get fried,” Vicki pointed out. “Not a real spiritual image there. How about the Lightbulbs? You know, like when a cartoon character gets a good idea and a lightbulb appears over his head? You could have a cute logo.”

  “That’s what we need,” said Warner with a huff. “A cute logo.” He was the band’s very tall bass player and Sierra’s least favorite member of the group. Warner was always putting his arm around Sierra, and she couldn’t get him to understand that she didn’t like it. She appreciated it when Randy put his arm around her because they were buddies. But when Warner did it, he seemed to place so much weight on her that she felt smothered. Plus he would never let go on his own. He kept his arm around her as if he hoped people would think they were together.

  “You know, we could abbreviate it,” Randy suggested. “What do you think of The LB’s?”

  “It makes me think of boarding school in Peru,” Margo said. She was a missionary kid who had started at Royal Academy a few months ago, when her family had come home on furlough. She had been hanging around with their gang for several weeks. “When we did reports for Bible class, they used to say, ‘Make sure to make a note if you use the LB.’ ”

  “What’s that?” Tre asked.

  “The Living Bible. It’s a modern paraphrase of the Bible, and we had tons of them in the library at school,” Margo said.

  “I like The LB’s,” Vicki said.

  “Could have double meaning,” Sierra suggested. “You kn
ow that old saying about how we’re the only Bible some people may ever read, so we’re like walking, living, breathing Bibles.”

  “And lights,” Randy added. “We’re supposed to be lights in the darkness. That’s our band’s purpose. I like the name. What do you guys think?”

  Tre nodded. Warner gave a stoop-shouldered shrug.

  “I think it’s great!” Vicki said.

  Margo glanced at her watch. “I think we’d better get back, or we’ll be late again and end up sitting around in detention on Friday.”

  “You didn’t say what you thought of the name The LB’s,” Warner said to Sierra as they left Lotsa Tacos. He plopped his thick arm across her shoulder, and she felt the same weight inside that she felt across her back.

  Grabbing his wrist and removing his arm, Sierra said, “I like the name. I don’t like it when you lean on me like that.”

  Warner looked surprised. Sierra didn’t think he should be, since she had told him the same thing before. This time she wanted to make sure he got the message.

  “Look, Warner, I mean it when I say I don’t want you to put your arm around me anymore. Okay?”

  “I’m just being friendly,” he said defensively.

  The others climbed inside Vicki’s car. But Sierra wasn’t through making her point.

  “It doesn’t feel friendly to me. It feels uncomfortable, and I don’t want you to do it. Okay? Just don’t put your arm around me anymore. Got it?”

  Warner shrugged his agreement. He folded his tall frame into the front seat of Vicki’s car. Sierra climbed into the back with Margo. No one spoke as they drove the few blocks back to school.

  Just before they pulled into the school parking lot, Warner turned around and said, “Do you have a boyfriend, Sierra?”

  Without hesitating, she said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  Vicki stared at her with large eyes, as if she thought Sierra were telling a lie.

  “He’s in Scotland right now,” Sierra filled in for Vicki’s benefit as well as Margo’s and Warner’s. “His name is Paul. Why do you ask?”