Faith, Friendship, and the Gift of Community: Lessons from The Star

Last night, I watched The Star with friends, expecting a lighthearted animated movie. What I did not expect was how quietly meaningful it would become, or how deeply its themes would echo long after the screen went dark.

At its heart, The Star is a story about unlikely companions on a shared journey. The characters are not heroic because they are fearless or strong, but because they stay. They keep walking even when they are unsure, tired, or afraid. They accompany one another, offering encouragement, protection, and presence when it matters most. The film gently suggests that none of us is meant to navigate life alone, and that sometimes the most important thing we can do is simply keep showing up for each other.

One of the lessons that stood out most is how courage grows in community. The characters stumble and doubt themselves, yet something changes when they realize they are not alone. Their strength comes not from having everything figured out, but from being willing to take the next step together. It is a quiet reminder that support does not always look like solutions or advice. Often, it looks like companionship.

That theme carried seamlessly into the rest of the evening. After the movie ended, Brett (Yogi), Amy, and I did not rush off or turn on something else. We stayed. We talked for more than three hours. The conversation moved easily between laughter and reflection, memories and present realities, lighthearted moments and deeper truths. It felt like a continuation of the story we had just watched, lived out in real time.

These are the friendships that do not require constant proximity to remain strong. It is one that can go months or even years without regular contact and still feel steady and safe. My friendship with Yogi is one of my longest friendships, and I have been blessed to develop a friendship with his wife, Amy, over the last 20 years. She is a beautiful soul and I'm deeply inspired by her love and dedication to the Church and self-growth. Yogi and Amy are the kind of friends who are always a phone call or text away, always willing to open their home, always ready to make space when I need a place to land. Being with them reminded me that enduring friendship is one of the quiet gifts that carries us through seasons of uncertainty.

What The Star ultimately affirms is that presence matters. Not the kind that fixes everything, but the kind that stays. The kind that listens. The kind that walks alongside someone else without needing to control the outcome. Sitting there with Yogi and Amy
, I realized how often the most meaningful moments in life are unplanned, unpolished, and deeply human.

As the night came to a close, I felt a sense of gratitude settle in. Gratitude for stories that remind us of what truly matters. Gratitude for friendships that endure distance and time. Gratitude for conversations that linger and homes that welcome. May we all be blessed with people who walk beside us when the road feels long, who offer warmth without conditions, and who remind us, simply by being there, that we do not have to carry life on our own.