I’m sitting on a plane on my way home after a long week on the road, and I’m tired. Baked, fried, closed for business. Once I get to my seat, I usually want to shut down. I don’t talk to the people sitting next to me. Instead, I prefer to put on my headphones, crank up the beats, close my eyes and shut the world away.
Tonight is a little different though. I heard the mumble of the muffled pilot’s voice and would have ignored it, if it had not been for the woman next to me leaning across my lap to peer out the window. Curiosity got the best of me, so I paused the beats just in time to hear him say “Milky Way Galaxy.” Now, I’m peering out the window too, staring at the black canvas sky, littered with stars.
There are millions of them. They’re magnificent. I haven’t seen so many in years. And yet, they’re always there.
Stars don’t disappear, just because there are clouds in the sky. They’re no less brilliant, just because the lights of the city are brighter. Stars were here before, are still here now and will be around long after our short time on this earth is done. We look for them, wish on them and wonder what they really are.
To me, a star is like a dream – it’s that hope you have inside, where you’re headed, and what you believe in.
When times are tough, it may be tempting to lose hope. Your vision is clouded by trouble, emotions or fear.
When you’re caught up in the bustle of bright, city life – work, the hurrying to and fro – you may lose sight of your dream. Paying the bills or climbing that corporate ladder distracts you from what really matters.
But the dream is still alive. It was there before, is still deep inside of you, and can guide you on the road ahead. And there are millions of dreams. Yours, mine, and the one belonging to the woman sitting next to me. And together, they are magnificent.
There’s reason to hope. The stars still shine. It’s easy to see them from 32,000 feet up, but when it comes right down to it, it’s just a matter of perspective. Open your eyes. Look up. Make that wish, and believe.