“It just doesn’t look the same,” she said as we looked at her Christmas tree. I don’t like the star any more.

“Maybe it’s not the star, but how you see it,” I told her.

By this time, two weeks before Christmas, many celebrating the holiday have already pulled out all the decorations and have their tree up. A friend of mine has struggled with the celebration this year and waited until this past weekend to decorate. Normally she would have had her house twinkling right after Thanksgiving.

But this hasn’t been a normal year for her.

Life is challenging sometimes. But it is life and when it goes full circle it naturally comes to and end. Sometimes within that cycle other things begin and end, like jobs, friendships and sadly marriages. This year my friend has seen it all. She lost her job, and her marriage. All in one year. Of course we can also throw in a few friends. It’s an odd thing when we are suddenly faced with some overwhelming challenges in life, we discover the true roots of our friendships. The real ones stay no matter how you change. The rats abandon ship as you begin to sink below the water line.

“It was the right thing to do, you know. You needed desperately to have some normalcy in your life. Putting up a Christmas tree and participating in this holiday is a part of the healing process,” I told her.

“It was just so very difficult for me,” she said.

“I know. But in order for you to rise above all of this you needed to reconnect with life. As I have said a hundred times in my talks, “Life is what happens while making other plans,” I said.

“Life just hasn’t been fair to me,” she said quietly.

“Life isn’t fair to anyone. It’s just a flow in the cycle of the world. The energy in that system keeps moving. We either choose to participate and help guide our destiny or we die in the flow and it takes us wherever it desires. Like sitting in a tube on the river, you go where the water takes you until you decide it’s far enough, put your feet down and stand up. This weekend you stood up,” I said.

“But there was no feeling in the choice, no emotion attached to the experience of setting up that tree. Yes, as I handled each ornament, memories connected to it came rushing into my soul, but I was dead in my spirit,” she said.

I sat quietly listening. Sometimes the best thing you can do for a friend is not to talk to them but to just listen.

“I really didn’t want to celebrate Christmas this year,” she continued. “But then I remembered what you had said to me the year your father died. You said the celebration was in his honor just the way he would want it and this celebration isn’t the gifts, the parties and the glitter, but the joy of the birth of the Christ Child. There is no other true reason for it.”

“We tend to forget it is a holy day in the Christian faith. You could certainly eliminate all the fancy decorations if you needed to, but to deny the day because you mourn a loss, or your year has been too difficult, is to deny Him,” I said.

“But I wanted you to go a step further. I prayed that you would at least put up the tree. It’s more than a decorated tree, it is a memory tree full of hope, promises kept, dreams fulfilled and a monument to it all. In the end, when you finally placed your beautiful star atop that tree, I hoped it would connect you to the love that once filled your life.” I continued.

“It just doesn’t look the same,” she said.

“Maybe it’s not the star, but how you see it,” I told her.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“The star is the same as the day you made it. Yes, the years have dulled it a bit, it’s shape has changed somewhat, but all that it once represented remains intact. Like the way I see you. From the first day we met I saw this bright shining star full of hope, love and potential. Yes, life has dulled your luster a bit, but I still see you the same way. In spite of the fact that you have lost your spirit for living I still choose to see you as you were meant to be,” I told her.

“A tarnished star?” She said sarcastically.

“No, a bright guiding light for those who have loved and admired you all of your life,” I said. Then reaching for her hand I said, “Be the star!”

Bob Perks Bob@BobPerks.com