The Gift of the Pause

Today our yoga practice centered on the word “Pause.”
It feels especially meaningful during this busy holiday season, when so many of us are rushing from one responsibility to the next and our minds rarely stand still. In yoga, a pause is a conscious moment of stillness; a place to breathe, reflect, and reconnect with what matters most.

 

As I lay on my mat, I thought about how the word pause has shaped my life, especially as a mother. I remembered the years when bedtime stories, baths, and giggles filled our evenings — and how often I wanted to rush through them to get to the next task.

There were lunches to pack, clothes to prepare, work deadlines waiting. And too many nights, I forgot to pause… to inhale the scent of freshly washed hair, to treasure warm snuggles, to listen to the laughter.

 

And then one day, it all changed.
No more bedtime stories.
No more rocking-chair cuddles.
No more blanket-fort adventures beneath the dining room table.

What breaks your heart is that you never know when it’s the last time — until years later, when you realize those moments had a beginning and an end.

 

This week, we celebrate Thanksgiving and it is a reminder of how important it is to pause and truly see the people we love. To be present. To savor the laughter and the faces around the table.

 

That’s one of the reasons I wrote Caitlin’s Star — to honor love, family, and the memories we carry with us forever. The story is a reminder that connection lasts, and that the moments we pause to treasure become the ones we hold in our hearts.

 

So my wish for all of us this season is simple:
Pause.
Look up.
Hold the joy.
Treasure today — because we are not guaranteed tomorrow.

 

Caitlin's Star  

Grief Has No Age Limit

Cards we used last night

Last night I had the honor of reading Caitlin’s Star to a widows support group of more than 35 women.

While I originally wrote this book to help children understand the loss of a loved one, I continue to be humbled by how deeply it resonates with adults as well.

After the reading, I invited everyone to take a note card and write the name of someone they love who has passed, and to imagine what their “Heavenly Job” might be. I told them they didn’t need to share — but almost everyone did.

 

I heard:
⭐ meatball maker
⭐ fisherman
⭐ party planner
⭐ playing cards
⭐ leading a team
…and so many more.

When it was my turn, I shared my Heavenly Jobs too:
✨ My brother-in-law - allocating the striped bass limit for this season’s run
✨ My mom - lighting the stars to keep the lights on
✨ My father - singing in the heavenly choir

These small, loving images brought warmth and smiles, and reminded us that the people we miss still shine in the stories we tell.

At the end of the evening, I asked everyone to hold on to their card as a reminder of their loved one,  a small but powerful way to keep their light close.

There were some tears, laughter, quiet reflection, long hugs, and so much love in that room. I was deeply moved by the strength, honesty, and tenderness these women shared with one another and with me, a stranger. I left humbled and grateful.

 Caitlin’s Star may be a children’s book, but last night reminded me that grief has no age limit and neither does love.

©     Love doesn’t disappear. It simply changes form.

©     We heal when we speak names and share stories

Thank you to these incredible women for welcoming me so generously and trusting me with your memories. You touched my heart.

©     Caitlin’s Star — A keepsake story of love, loss, and memory 

Last night I had the honor of reading Caitlin’s Star to a widows support group of more than 35 women.

While I originally wrote this book to help children understand the loss of a loved one, I continue to be humbled by how deeply it resonates with adults as well.

After the reading, I invited everyone to take a note card and write the name of someone they love who has passed, and to imagine what their “Heavenly Job” might be. I told them they didn’t need to share — but almost everyone did.

I heard:
⭐ meatball maker
⭐ fisherman
⭐ party planner
⭐ playing cards
⭐ leading a team
…and so many more.

When it was my turn, I shared my Heavenly Jobs too:
✨ My brother-in-law - allocating the striped bass limit for this season’s run
✨ My mom - lighting the stars to keep the lights on
✨ My father - singing in the heavenly choir

These small, loving images brought warmth and smiles, and reminded us that the people we miss still shine in the stories we tell.

At the end of the evening, I asked everyone to hold on to their card as a reminder of their loved one — a small but powerful way to keep their light close.

There were tears, laughter, quiet reflection, long hugs, and so much love in that room. I was deeply moved by the strength, honesty, and tenderness these women shared with one another — and with me. I left humbled and grateful.

 Caitlin’s Star may be a children’s book, but last night reminded me that grief has no age limit — and neither does love.

©     Love doesn’t disappear. It simply changes form.

©     We heal when we speak names and share stories

Thank you to these incredible women for welcoming me so generously and trusting me with your memories. You touched my heart.

©     Caitlin’s Star — A keepsake story of love, loss, and memory
👉 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FWMK6HWV

If you feel comfortable, I would be honored if you shared a loved one’s name or their Heavenly Job in the comments.