“It was the darkest night of the year and The Littlest Star was scared. She wasn’t very old, a mere flicker in The Creator’s eyes, and she didn’t yet know how to hang by the thread of hope or see dreams in the night. And so, not remembering that she could always call for help, she fell.

It wasn’t a soft landing. Her light had dimmed in the downward rush and so she hit, hard, on the earth. She blinked. Far above, her friends glistened.

“Come back, Littlest Star!” they cried down to her. “Quickly, before the Moon goes to sleep and the Sun wakes up!” But she didn’t know how to climb without her arms and so she lay there, crying, until her tears turned her into a mere ember.”

So begins the plight of The Littlest Star, a character in one of my books, who also represents the deepest part of our soul. Once upon a time we were all positioned in the heavens, just like The Littlest Star, a glimmering diamond of love and light. We could easily stretch across the sky and shine healing for a fellow soul; smile and brighten the entirety of the world. Then we took on a body and fell — or did we? Have we really descended or are we merely rising in a new and different way?

Feeling Like A Fallen Star

Sometimes we feel like a fallen star, a brilliant being of light that has lost its luster or been covered by the dirt and grime of this, the Shadowland. On earth, there are challenges not experienced in Heaven. There is Hunger and Pain, Loneliness and Cruelty. But there is also Truth, a gift especially useful to acknowledge at this time of year.

Within is the star we once were, but also the star we are becoming. If not for the polish of experience, it would be easy to take goodness for granted. If not for the moments of hardship, would we open to the healing of joy and the wish for something better?

What do we learn through Hunger? There is a Hunger we don’t wish on anyone, as it’s inhumane and unethical. By experiencing certain types of Hunger, however, we develop a taste for yearning. We force ourselves to stretch to the rim of the Universe and invent hope.

How about Pain? What do we make of Pain? As with all things of this earth, there are dark and light sides. There is Pain that encourages self-pity. When this strikes, I must decide to give, not simply take. There is also Pain birthed from needless suffering. We must join hearts and hands and stop this Pain. Yet there is Pain that encourages its own antidote; one that invites me to become a force to transform the world.

Loneliness is one of the most traumatic experiences, one difficult to endure and even more challenging to appreciate. It is a harsh master if caused by shame or guilt. This Loneliness shrouds us from the light, convincing us we don’t deserve love. From this Loneliness grows the roots of emotional Pain and spiritual Hunger, and oh, it seems impossible to fix this condition. We feel so alone, so bad about ourselves, we don’t even try to peer through the shuttered windows of our hearts for a solution, a balm, a salve for our soul.

There is a different type of Loneliness, however, one that promises sweetness for our experiencing of it. This is the Loneliness that results from making the long journey within, that arduous odyssey that winds through our oyster shell of self-protection and the internal storm sands of misery. This is Loneliness worth cultivating as it helps us uncover the pearl that we are.

Cruelty in any form is wrong. It is an evil, a form of anti-consciousness. What benefit it can bring, I don’t know, nor would I choose to remain in or endure Cruelty long enough to make-believe a silver lining. Cruelty, I believe, is like a cloak sewn from feathers of dark angels. We think they might lift us up; instead, they weigh us down.

There is Truth, however, in Cruelty. It is this:

The dark can never cover up love; rather, love assures a light in the dark.

You Are the Light

If we can remember this, we will know that no matter how little or insignificant we might believe ourselves to be, we are made of light. We are light come to earth, to create more love.

In my book, The Littlest Star morphs into The Christmas Star, she who shares hope for those who can’t see the light within or around them.

This season, perhaps we can all decide to be this light. What better promise to make to ourselves while light gives way to dark, and dark makes way for light. We aren’t fallen. We are here to rise, just as the moon and the sun do every night and day.