Be a Star

Sara stepped out on the front porch to get a view of the night sky. She left the lights off so her view of the stars could be unblemished, as clear as possible. Without the light pollution the stars truly did light up the world around her. Stars reminded her of a guest lecture she attended once in college for the opening of the new Department of Astronomy observatory for public viewings. The stars through the observatory’s telescope were like nothing she had seen before that night. They were a proof of a higher power she needed at that moment in time. And tonight Sara hoped these stars would be the same. 

Losing her job was completely unexpected. Especially after being in the position for 5 years this was not even a thought in Sara’s mind. Sara felt she was connected well with her co-workers. Her clients left glowing feedback of her performance, at least per their own reports. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for her boss to find her valuable.

“Sara, thanks for coming in. I have a prepared statement here from the company, so here goes. We unfortunately cannot continue to employ you at our clinic and at the end of your contract period, your employment with us will be terminated. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but it just seems as though you still have too much to learn here.”

“Okay… um I’m shocked” Sara replied. “Can you tell me what exactly you mean?” “

“You’ve been here for quite some time and you continue to ask questions which for some seems as if you don’t know how to do your job. Which lead us to discuss whether or not we believed you should continue with your position at this clinic with us” her boss noted in a dismissive, reductive tone.  

Sara was perplexed by what that could possibly mean. She knew the computer systems they used inside and out. She knew the clients, her colleagues, and the she was engaged with and highly involved in the community. Plus this was a TEACHING clinic for crying out loud. How hypocritical to say she had too much to learn when it was their responsibility to teach.

 Sara couldn’t put it all on them. She did know she asked a lot of questions. But that, in here mind, wasn’t a sign of not knowing, but rather a sign of wanting to make sure she was doing it right. “If I’m going to order from Amazon, I send my receipts to Jeanine, right?” “The fax code is 6798, correct?” “I can use my sick time by the hour, right? Like I can just use two hours’ worth for an appointment I have tomorrow?”

Sara thought nothing could be worse than getting reprimanded for forgetting things she should’ve known. After a month or so on the job her boss had pulled her aside to speak to her about a concern from a colleague on how often she asked for help with the computer system. Sara hastily assured her boss everything was fine, and she was capable of learning the system on her own. Walking out of her boss’ office, face beat red with embarrassment, Sara knew there couldn’t possibly be anything more humiliating than that experience. Obviously, she was wrong. 

The days after the dismissal were a blur. She still had to finish out her contract with the clinic which meant another three works of showing up and working with clients as if nothing was wrong. Sara knew she could do that. If there was one thing she had learned at the job it was the art of her poker face. Outside, no one was any the wiser that there was something going on. Inside, Sara was buzzing with anxiety, vibrating to the beat of her racing heart. Her whole body felt as if it were perspiring with the memory of the conversation and her crushed spirit. 

The time came to get herself back out there. To throw her hat into the ring and jump back into the job market. She polished up her resume, filled out numerous applications, and hoped the right opportunity would find her. And that’s why the proof of an almighty is exactly what Sara was hoping to glimpse from the night sky. 

Something she did remember from that lecture at the observatory was a question from the audience that was posed to the guest lecturer. “What really happens to stars when they die?” The lecturer took a moment to breathe, to think, and replied “when a star dies it doesn’t really ‘die’ as we conventionally think of the word. It’s more like a transformation, a reincarnation of the matter the star was made up of…” The rest of the lecturer’s answer was beautifully put and brilliantly academic sounding but as much as Sara tried to recall, she couldn’t quite remember the rest of the answer. The piece about the transformation, the reincarnation, however, is the quip that did always stick with her. 

The next day was an interview at a very lovely company for a very remedial job, at the lowest end of the pay scale. It sounded doable, a fine way to make money and get by. But it was not the dream position Sara had hoped for. The drive to the interview was freezing as Sara blasted the air conditioning to keep from being soaked through with sweat prior to meeting her interviewers.

The conversation was genial. Sara was quiet but self-assured. Funny, but careful not to touch on any subjects that might be considered too sensitive.  She only had to ask the interviewer to repeat one question and was even mindful of her “umms” and “ahs” throughout the process. They shook hands in the end, assuring her she’d hear back from them in a few days. 

That night Sara stepped back out onto the porch, the stars lighting up her field of vision. “Be a star” she thought, “you are not dead or dying. You are not broken. But it’s time to become something new. This is your moment for transformation.”