ThinkabaraIn a big box of Christmas decorations lived a little paper star. She had been made by a child many years ago, with crooked points and a bit too much glitter.
Every year, the shiny glass ornaments went on the tree first. “Look at us sparkle,” they said. The paper star stayed at the bottom of the box and wondered if she was good enough.
This year, the family’s grandpa opened the box. He lifted out the paper star and his eyes got shiny. “I made this when I was five years old,” he said softly.
He held her up for everyone to see. She wasn’t perfect. One point was shorter than the others. But she was full of a very special thing: memories.
The children decided together. “She should go on the very top!” So the youngest climbed onto Dad’s shoulders and placed the paper star at the top of the tree.
That night, when the lights were turned off and only the tree was glowing, the paper star looked down at the room — at the family asleep on the couch, at the stockings, at the falling snow outside.
And she understood: you don’t have to be the shiniest to be loved. You just have to be part of the story. Good night, little star. Merry Christmas.