By Charlotte Wood, Guest Writer
If I have learned one thing, it is that stars do not fit into circles.
You know those baby toys with plastic shapes — a triangle, a square, a circle and a star. One by one, a child learns where each piece belongs. The shapes slide in easily when they match. But the star never fits into the circle. It does not matter how hard you push or how many times you try. It just was not made for that space.
For a long time, I did not understand that.
Somewhere along the way, I started forcing things into places they were never meant to go. Expectations into spaces meant for truth. Lies into spaces meant for grace. I did not always notice it happening. I just knew something felt off.
And when you do not name something, you cannot change it.
There were beliefs I carried that felt so familiar I stopped questioning them. Not because they were true, but because they had been there for so long.
That I was behind.
That I was not enough.
That I had to earn my place.
They were not loud thoughts. They did not announce themselves as lies. They settled in quietly, shaping the way I saw myself without asking permission.
Looking back, I can see how those beliefs formed.
There were moments where I felt overlooked. Times when I compared myself to the people around me and came up short. Moments that did not seem significant at the time, but slowly started to shape what I believed about myself.
I did not process them. I did not question them.
I just adjusted.
I became more guarded, more cautious and less willing to believe something good could be meant for me. It felt easier to expect less than to risk being disappointed.
So I stopped leaving room for possibility.
And without realizing it, I kept pushing the star into the circle — over and over again — until I stopped noticing it did not fit.
I just accepted it.
Accepted the tension.
Accepted the weight.
Accepted that something felt off, but never paused long enough to ask why.
It was not until much later that I finally did.
I remember sitting with the realization, looking at the patterns I had carried for so long and thinking:
This does not fit.
Recognizing that something I had believed for years did not actually belong.
There is a verse in Mark 9 where a father says to Jesus, “I do believe; help my unbelief.”
That is what it feels like.
To know something is true, but still struggle to live like it is. To hold both belief and doubt at the same time.
So I have started praying differently.
Not for everything to make sense.
Not for instant clarity.
But for awareness.
To notice what does not belong.
To recognize the places where I have been forcing something that was never meant to fit.
Because healing does not start when everything is fixed.
It starts when you realize something does not belong there in the first place.
If I have learned one thing, it is this:
Not everything that feels true is true.
Some things were never meant to fit — no matter how long I tried to make them.
And maybe the first step forward is not forcing it to work.
Maybe it is putting down the shape I was trying to fit into and choosing one that actually fits.
