Star Veiled by Clouds

The afternoon sky was crimson, blanketing the small, silent village in the highlands of Papua. Dr. Charisa looked out the window of the small hut she called home. The wind gently touched her face, carrying the distinct scent of wet earth. She had dedicated herself as a doctor here for more than ten years—in the remote parts of Papua with no road access, a conflict zone often plagued by gunfire, far from the hustle and bustle of big modern cities.

However, behind that dedication, there was a heart that constantly struggled. A heart with an unfulfilled hope. A great, seemingly endless inner turmoil raged within.

Her phone vibrated relentlessly, the glow of the screen illuminating the dim corner of her hut. Social media notifications flooded in—a cascade of images and congratulatory messages. She saw her former classmates, beaming with pride in the grand lobbies of renowned hospitals, their white coats pristine, their names etched in shining plaques. Some were acclaimed paediatricians, others subspecialists whose achievements were celebrated by thousands. The comments poured in: words of praise, admiration, encouragement. The world seemed to applaud them, as if their lives were a constant parade of triumphs.

Charisa felt a storm rising within her. Envy tangled with shame and a raw ache of disappointment. There was a time, not so long ago, when she was the one people admired. The star pupil, the science olympiad champion, the flag-bearer at provincial ceremonies, the celebrated face at local pageants. Her name had once echoed through the halls of her school, spoken with respect, woven into stories of success and brilliance. She remembered the thrill of those moments—the singular recognition, the applause, the sense that her future was limitless.

But now, in this faraway village surrounded by mist-shrouded mountains, that brilliant future felt distant, almost unreal. She spoke softly, as if confessing to the night, her voice tinged with the gentle cadence of Papua, “I used to be the promise everyone believed in. I was meant to shine.” Her heart twisted. Years of ambition and struggle had once fed her dreams of becoming a world-class paediatrician, someone whose work would touch countless lives, whose name would fill lecture halls and medical journals.

Instead, she found herself here, in a place where every day was a test of endurance, far from her family and the golden path she had imagined. There were no marble floors or elegant receptions; her stage was a modest hut, her audience the children who ran barefoot. She watched the clouds gather outside, veiling the stars above. The metaphor felt painfully apt—her dream, that radiant star, now hidden behind thick layers of doubt and obscurity.

A quiet voice inside questioned her path. Was this sacrifice worth it? Had she chosen the right road, or had she simply wandered astray, led by hope into solitude? Her chest ached with longing, yet also with a stubborn kind of pride. “Maybe I am not the fading star I feared,” she thought, her reflection a gentle spark in her mind. “Maybe I am the star covered by clouds, serving in silence, shining where no one thinks to look.”

Her gaze lingered on the phone, the images of her peers blurring into distant memories. She allowed herself to grieve the life she might have had, but also to cherish the quiet courage that kept her here—among the rain-soaked earth and the laughter of children, in the heart of Papua. Her journey was not the one she had planned, but perhaps, she mused, it was the one she was meant to live. The light she carried might be hidden from the world, but it was real, warming those who lived in shadows.

And in this reflection, Charisa found a fragile, unspoken hope. Perhaps the clouds would part, someday. Perhaps her light would be enough—for herself, and for those who needed it most.

Suddenly, a small child approached her, carrying a bunch of fresh vegetables. “Auntie Doctor, these are for you,” the child said with a shy smile. “These vegetables are from my garden. My mother mentioned that you assisted me last week when I was quite ill, which is why she would like to offer you these as a gesture of appreciation. She also noted that you were present at my birth years ago and gave me my name”.

Charisa knelt down, her heart touched. She hugged the child tightly. “What is your name, dear?” she asked.

“My name is Lydia, Auntie Doctor,” the child answered. “Mom said you are an angel from God who helped me be born. The one who also gave me a name, the same as your  middle name. I want to be a doctor like you, who helps people in need, and never asks for payment. I also want to be a Sabbath School teacher like you, who teaches us many English songs. How cool is that…” the child chattered innocently with a beaming face, tidily stacking the grass she had pulled out, without being asked.

Charisa was moved. She smiled, accepting the vegetables with deep gratitude and a joyful heart. That night, she wrote in her journal again:

“I may not have the life I once dreamed of, but I have something much bigger: the opportunity to love and serve those in need. And that is more than enough.“

Charisa now looked at her life differently. She was not a “fading star,” but a “star veiled by clouds.” Although her light was not visible to many, she knew her light was there, warming and illuminating those who lived in darkness. Keep shining bright because your light can be a guide for someone to achieve their hopes and dreams one day. Clouds do not always obscure your light, Star.

In the silence of remote Papua, Charisa found true love: love for her Creator in her gratitude, love for her profession, love for those she served, and unconditional love for herself. No doubt… 

Keep shining, brighter than before… … …

Kreator : Vidya D’CharV