Gold Star

My elementary school teacher, Mrs. Cotton,  plucked a gold star from the small cardboard box on her desk and handed it to me. As I licked the small paper prize, the bitter glue layer burned my tongue. Next, my tiny fingers pressed the award adjacent to my name on the attendance chart posted on the wall near the window.

That week in first grade, I was being recognized for perfect attendance. Not a red star. Not a blue star.  Those two stars indicated near-perfect attendance. I had perfect attendance. I felt very proud of my personal achievement as I paraded back to my desk and took out my Dick and Jane reader.

During another similar childhood moment, the placement of yet another gold star acknowledged my monthly perfect attendance. This time, my Sunday School teacher, Florence, licked the gold star with extra saliva and stuck it next to my name on a homemade chart in my Sunday School room. Housed in a small area in the basement of the Ames Methodist Church, this basic cardboard announcement perched on an easel next to a green flannel board decorated with assorted paper cut-outs of Bible figures.

  Ames Methodist Church

Simple and small. These little gold stars signaled to the universe that I did something worth mentioning. I regularly showed up. Even though I was petite and shy, my presence was noticed.

I do not recall exactly how I earned the three gold stars on my Girl Scout sash. But there they were- still shiny and bright today. Perhaps each one marked a year of service in my troop. No matter the reason, I remember the pride I felt whenever I wore my green uniform to school.

my Girl Scout sash

True, my gold stars are insignificant in relation to the more important ones in the world. They pale in comparison to the recognition given to the families of fallen military members. These Gold Star Families have made the ultimate sacrifice of a loved one in service to our country. Started in World War I, families proudly displayed blue stars on service flags outside their homes representing every immediate family member serving in the Armed Services. The color of the star changed to gold if the loved one died. Thus, the term, Gold Star Families.

My small stars do not by any means measure up to the 140 stars carved into the marble of the CIA Memorial Wall in Langley, VA. Each one of those stars represents a CIA member who died in service.  Subsequently, the names of the heroes are inscribed in the Book of Honor along with gold-leafed stars.

Neither are my stars a part of our nation’s history. During my early childhood, two stars were added to the American flag. They represented Alaska, on January 3, 1959, and Hawaii, on August 21, 1959. These new states rounded out our union to the modern-day count of fifty states.

My father-in-law, David S. Kluxen Sr. served in the US Army ‘s 259^th Field Artillery Battalion Overseas and participated in the Battle of the Bulge in World War II. For him and other military members, bronze and silver stars were awarded for service and bravery. Gold stars are for the highest honor.  Yet, all of those small tokens represented big sacrifices.

       Cpl. David S. Kluxen, Sr.

My stars are small and honestly insignificant to anyone but me. But for me, they are important. They represent a personal achievement. They encourage me to do more.

Recently, I received an email from an unknown sender in northern New Jersey who informed me that the family purchased a copy of one of my children’s books, Henri to the Rescue, two years ago in Cape May, NJ. Then, last fall, the book fell victim to their house fire. Her six-year-old child longed for my book and asked his mother to find a way to replace his beloved copy. Thanks to the magic of the internet, his mother found my email address through my website and contacted me.

I was humbled by the effort that his mom made to fulfill her child’s request. I never know where my books land, but I always dream that my children’s books make a young reader smile and that the books find a happy home. That particular home needed to be rebuilt to be a happy one once again. I joyfully sent a free replacement copy in hopes that the appearance of a new Henri to the Rescue might make the reconstruction less painful.

After I mailed the Henri book, a huge smile spread across my face as I drove home from the Post Office. Later, I reflected on why that moment made me feel so joyful.  A child was soon to be happy again.  A mother’s love made that happen.

This small act represented something special for me. So, I decided to call it my gold star moment. Through my writing, I had touched another human being. A mother helped her child recover from their family’s tragedy. That was worth celebrating.

I challenge you readers to find your gold star moments. Many of you already do this with your commitment to your community, church, or neighborhood. Gold stars to you all! Keep them coming.

The self-award of a gold star does not have to come from a major public act. It can be small and private. Find an opportunity to connect with another person. Or, you can simply show up. Then lick your gold star and put it on your chart.

We can do this together to build a kinder world. One gold star at a time.

Kim