What’s it all for?


Birth. Existence. Death.

What’s it all for?  Why are we born knowing we must die? It makes everything in between the birth and death so futile and insignificant in the scheme of the universe. I mean, we’re all just tiny little microscopic specs in the vast expanse. How could we make any impact on this thing called “life”? We’re really nothing compared to eternity. Sure, some of us will burn bright, and like a star will continue to burn bright long after death because we somehow left a light behind that still resonates. But most of us will shine for a moment in time and then burn out.

So why try to find a way to burn forever when we know there’s a good chance we’re going to fizzle?

For me, it’s because I know each and every one of us is a star to someone. You may not be the star on a rock stage or the Hollywood Walk of Fame. You may not be the President of your senior class or the most popular kid in school. You may not be the one to always gets the promotion, and many times you’re going to feel looked over, insignificant – as if no one sees you or cares.

But the thing is, we’re all stars to someone. Your parents, siblings, your next door neighbor…they may think you’re an angel sent from the heavens. To that lonely kid at school, you may be his/her hero. To the lady you helped in the grocery store, you may be what put a smile on her face. The truth of it is, we tend to underestimate the impact we have on others. We all may appear to be insignificant, but we’re not. Not all of us can be stars. Some of us need to be grains of sand on the beach.  You know why? Because without each and ever single grain of sand on that beach, there would be no beach. You may not stand out individually, but put together with the whole, look how magnificent you are.

Never, never underestimate your importance.  You are important, and your life matters to someone.

My mother-in-law passed away Sunday. She’d been ill for a while and lived in a nursing facility. She wasn’t a star that will burn like the sun into eternity. Someday her light will blip and will go out. But for now, it’s burning bright even though she’s gone. I look at how she touched the nurses and CNAs where she ‘lived’ her final three years. They loved her and when she passed Sunday, a piece of them went with her.

I see the posts on social media, from the people who barely knew her. They are all saying how Nancy touched their lives, how she always made them feel welcome and part of the family. Even those who had little contact with her thought her to be an extraordinary woman. She was a star then. She’s a star now.

She’ll always be a star to her family. She’ll always be a star to me. She was my second mom, and I am blessed to have this star streak through my life. I can only hope and pray to burn as bright in the lives I touch along this journey of life. I hope I will be as kind, forgiving, thankful, and just. I hope I will be as much a symbol of strength and honesty to others as she was. I hope I exude as much compassion and love and understanding. I pray I am as kind, thoughtful and present to those who need me.

I am a grain of sand hoping for star status.

To me, that’s what it’s all for. We’re not here to make a giant impact on the universe. We’re here to make positive impacts on each other. As long as we do that, we’ll always shine in the eyes of those lives we touch. Just remember, eventually, even the brightest star will burn out, but until then, be everything you can be. Make your life count. Touch a life, or two or three. Shine bright and never forget how valuable you are. Someone loves you, and that makes you the brightest star in the universe.

 

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