The music ended and Stephen stood up. “Let’s play a game, all right? Guys versus girls, winner gets pizza next week.” The students sat up straighter. “Alter ego of Superman?”
A boy from the back row yelled, “Clark Kent!” and the boys cheered.
“Okay, that one was easy. Real name of John Legend?”
This one took longer, and a girl from the third row called out, “John Stephens.”
“That’s right. Okay, last question: Secret identity of Samuel Clemens?”
Lavender smiled at the question, the answer almost escaping, but held back to see who would win. There were whispers as the students tried to come up with the answer. Then, a brunette in the front row hesitantly raised her hand, “Mark Twain.”
As the cheers from the winning team died down, the speaker continued. “We might not have a superhero name or a stage name or a penname. But we have a username. A screen name is easy to hide behind. Are you the same person online as you are in person? Are you confident in your identity in Christ, whether online or sitting at a restaurant? At school and at church?”
Lavender listened carefully, struck by the questions. They were similar to what she’d been asking herself for months. Was Lavender the same person online and in person? She tried hard to be. Was she the same person with WillWriteForTacos as she was with her family or her blog?
Maybe not. She let her online friend read the things she wrote that were deeper, more artistic. But she never showed him her posts about engagement ring trends or the best lip gloss for under five dollars. Even though she loved sharing that information with her readers, she didn’t want to share it with him, afraid it would be too shallow. When WillWriteForTacos met her, would he be disappointed? It was a scary thing to care so much about what someone thought. Especially someone who she’d never met.
That night, Lavender and Rose drove down the dark gravel roads leading to Bloom’s Farm. Rose broke the comfortable silence by asking, “What did you think of Stephen’s talk?”
Lavender weighed her response. “I know it was for the students, but I think it was exactly what I needed to hear. So much of my life happens online, you know? Sometimes it’s easy to hide behind the screen.”
“From what I can see, you are doing a good job, but only you can say whether you are being authentic.”
Lavender could only offer a thoughtful hum in response. Rose was right, if she was feeling convicted, it was a good sign she needed to think about some things.
She said goodnight to her sister once they got inside and took her seat at her computer desk. Words had been stirring around in her mind since the speaker finished. She had something important to tell her followers. So many of them messaged her or commented on her posts. Too often, they only wanted to ask questions about the clothes or the products. Sometimes they asked about her. When she posted about confidence, she got lots of comments from people who struggled with it. And it wasn’t that Lavender had been trying to be less-than-real with her followers. Something about social media made it so easy to come across like she didn’t struggle with anything.
Lavender had accepted Jesus as a young teenager. It was a summer camp experience for a girl who had always grown up in a family of Christians. She’d gone to college and had to choose her faith for herself. Struggling with identity when you were always just “one of the Bloom sisters” seemed inevitable to her.
Tonight had been a great reminder that she was a daughter of the King. Which had nothing to do with how special she was, and everything to do with how glorious the King is. Too often, she let her blog focus on herself, which allowed her readers to make it about them. Tonight, she was going to change that.
A chat window flashed, and she saw the message from WillWriteForTacos asking if she was around.
She didn’t answer, instead opening her Bible app to the passage they’d talked about tonight.
Three hours and three thousand words later, Lavender pressed save. She shut down the computer with bleary eyes, feeling tired and wrung out from the emotion she’d poured into the words. Of anything she’d written in the past five years, this was perhaps the hardest—and the most authentic.
And the video? That was a whole other story. The video would definitely be a risk, but maybe it would help someone see beyond the surface. If she published it at all. She still didn’t know if she could. It was so different than her normal content. That was kind of the point, though.
Her audience would probably give it a thumbs up and then wait for her next post about braids versus messy buns. But maybe it would touch someone who needed the message. That was what it was all about, right?
She needed to pray about it more. If this was just some sort of emotional glitch, she didn’t want to ruin her business over it.
The next morning, Lavender grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat down at her desk, diving into her newest farm project. The event barn website needed a major overhaul. They had hosted so many events, the pictures could be improved and the copywriting needed work as well.
She turned on a playlist of country music while she worked, clicking through hundreds of photos she had taken at weddings last fall and spring. Then she started adjusting the website, updating the list of pricing and packages based on what Lily had given her. Lavender frowned at the screen and pulled out her phone.
“Morning?” the groggy voice of her sister greeted her.
She glanced at the clock. Still early. “Ooh, sorry sis. I just have a quick question.”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“Most of the wedding venues I see have special arrangements with photographers or caterers. Do we want to set something like that up? Special rates for people we refer or something? Maybe Josh would want to—”
“Josh is busy,” Lily said sharply, and Lavender’s eyebrows shot up. What was that about? Her sister continued, more alert now, “It’s not a bad idea, though. I’ll think about some potential partners and feel them out.”
“Sounds good. I’ll leave it off the website for now, but I think it would be good. Plus, we need to start pushing for caterers to use the kitchen Daisy put in the bed-and-breakfast.”
They disconnected and Lavender turned back to the website. What was missing?
“A honeymoon package!” She wiggled with excitement. Yes, the bed-and-breakfast could offer a special wedding night package for the bride and groom along with their event! Quickly, she typed up the details and sent them to Daisy for approval.
Nearly four hours had passed, and she stood up to stretch. She opened the draft of the post she’d created last night, skimming the words and remembering why she’d written them.
There was a knock on her door, and Lavender turned to see Poppy walking through, her sunglasses perched on her head.
“Hey. I didn’t realize you were here today.” Lavender stood to give her sister a hug.
“I needed a break from the city. Plus, you know how crazy the summers are. I just came in to grab a bite from the kitchen so I wouldn’t hover around the barn. I’m trying to let Tate do his thing, but…”
“But you can’t bear to let someone pack your precious CSA baskets unsupervised?” Lavender teased her sister about the Community Supported Agriculture baskets, but Lavender knew just how successful they had been. After all, the orders came through the website she managed.
Poppy gave her a guilty smile. “Maybe.”
“How’s Harrison? I’ve got the basics for his social media pages set up. It’s not doing much right now though. I need to schedule a call with Neil.”
Poppy smiled at the mention of her husband. “He’s good. Really busy though. So much for that honeymoon. He’s got a big event scheduled after Hawthorne’s wedding. You should come and take pictures.”
Lavender got the date and marked it on her calendar. When she closed the calendar on her computer, the draft of the writing from last night popped up again.
“Can I ask you a question, Poppy?”
“Of course.”
“What do you do if what people expect you to do isn’t what you feel like you should do?”
Poppy frowned. “I think I’m going to need some more context, Lav.”
“It’s my blog. I write about fashion and make-up, and occasionally things like confidence. But I never post about my faith or how it defines my life. And I’m wondering if I should. What if my readers leave?”
Poppy sat on the bed, tucking one leg under the opposite knee. “I’m going to give you some advice I got from someone very wise earlier this year. When I thought I needed Harrison to make a difference, you told me I should do everything I could to make the world a better place and show the people around me who Jesus is—whether that was two people or two million people. Lavender, it sounds to me like you have the opportunity to show a lot more than two people who Jesus is.”
Was there anything more convicting than having someone give your own advice back to you? Poppy was right, she had an opportunity that few people would ever have. After Poppy left, Lavender turned back to her computer, took a deep breath, and pressed publish.
The next morning, before her meeting with Emmett, Lavender pulled out her cell phone and opened her Instagram account. Her eyes widened at the number of notifications. She was used to having some whenever she posted, but thousands? After only one night?
She sat back down and pulled up her website manager. The number of comments on her article was way more than normal, even for her most popular posts. Afraid of what she might find, Lavender pulled up the page and skimmed the comments. A handful of comments in, and she grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand.
The ramble of thoughts she’d unleashed the night after youth group had resonated with people. A lot, apparently. The comments made her smile and laugh. Some were grateful for her honesty. Some were brutally honest about their own struggles. To Lavender, each comment represented a person who had read her words and cared enough to respond.
As she scrolled through the comments, she felt tears sting behind her eyes. For so many years, she had struggled to show the world who she was and what she believed. Her latest post had been the biggest leap of faith she’d ever taken, and the fear of lash back had still weighed heavily. Her entire body was flooded with relief that the response was positive. Perhaps that meant she still cared too much about what others thought, but she was being honest. And sometimes the most difficult person to be honest with was herself.