Caitlin's Star - A Book About Navigating Loss for Children and Adults

 Welcome, Caitlin’s Star is an interactive picture book offering comfort to children and families navigating loss. Explore the book, media features, and related resources below.

Explore the Book 

Caitlin's Star on Amazon

Caitlin's Star on Goodreads  

 

Watch and Learn 

 Caitlin's Star Book Trailer 

Nancy Range Anderson reads Caitlin's Star here.  

Nancy Range Anderson explains how to use the interactive prompts and journal pages here.

 

Seasonal Reflections 

Holiday Memories

 

 In the News

 The Monmouth Journal 

 The Link News

The Patch News Estero, Fl

The Patch News Long Branch, NJ  

 

Connect 

Nancy Range Anderson Children's Author  on Facebook

Nancy Range Anderson Books on Instagram

Recovery

 

Yesterday marked three weeks since my knee replacement surgery.

I did my PT twice and walked a couple of times, once around the block and once at an outdoor shopping center. By the end of the day, I felt as if I had been in a fight. My knee was swollen. My calf and ankle ached. I iced a lot and even slept with the ice machine sleeve wrapped around my leg.

Two steps forward, one step back has become my motto.

I continue to be surprised. I’ve always bounced back from things quickly, but this recovery is not linear. It is effort followed by inflammation. Progress followed by rest. Independence followed by humility.

What caught me off guard is not just the physical work, but the vulnerability. If you are used to being independent, needing help is its own kind of challenge.

In Caitlin’s Star, I write about the stars that twinkle behind the clouds. We may not always see them, but they are still there. That’s the brass ring.

Recovery feels a bit like that right now. The progress isn’t always obvious. Some days it is hidden behind swelling and fatigue. But it’s there.

 I saw this tee shirt on Amazon and think that it represents my recovery. I think I will buy it!

How Senior Professionals “Age Out” — And How to Prevent It

 “At some point, you age out.”

I heard President Obama say this recently on a podcast, referring to how, as we get older, we can lose touch with the cultural references and “immediate struggles” of younger generations.

I remember thinking, Did he really just say that?

It struck me professionally because it’s something I’ve written about, trained on, and spoken about since the Great Recession of 2008.

Some senior professionals don’t “age out” because they lack talent. They age out when they stop staying current.
It shows up subtly:
• Using language that hasn’t evolved with the field
• Talking about how things worked 15 years ago
• Leading with tenure instead of relevance
• Avoiding new technology instead of exploring it
• Having one résumé that reads like a job description instead of tailoring accomplishments to specific roles
• Refusing to network

Experience is powerful but relevance wins interviews.
The most successful senior job seekers I work with do a few things differently:
✔ They follow thought leaders in their industry
✔ They stay active on LinkedIn, even in small, consistent ways
✔ They learn new tools, especially AI and emerging technology
✔ They update their vocabulary to match today’s marketplace
✔ They demonstrate learning agility in interviews

They don’t try to act younger but they stay curious.

Thirty years of experience is impressive. Thirty years of experience plus active engagement in today’s trends is unstoppable.

In a rapidly changing workplace, the goal isn’t to avoid aging. It’s to avoid professional disconnect.
Stay relevant.
Stay engaged.
Stay current.
Keep learning.

That’s how you never “age out.”

What Surgery Reminded Me

 Two weeks ago I had knee surgery. It was routine and successful and except for the need to bend my knee more, I’m healing nicely. What surprised me most wasn’t the procedure (although parts of that were pretty brutal). It was the emotional aftereffect.

In the days that followed, I found myself more reflective. I was more appreciative of family support and aware of the kindness of friends and neighbors. I was also more conscious of how my independence quickly shifted into vulnerability.

During recovery, I thought about my mother. When we were kids, she sat beside us through fevers, injuries, and anxious moments. She remained calm offering reassurance and guidance.

That early shaping sticks with us.

When I wrote Caitlin’s Star, I introduced the idea of “Heavenly Jobs”, a way for children to think about how love and influence continue long after someone is gone. At its heart, the message isn’t abstract. It’s practical. The care we receive becomes a part of us.

Lying in that hospital bed, I realized I was remembering the lessons my mother modeled decades ago and one I hope I’ve modeled for my own children: face challenges with resilience, stay calm, and trust that you’ll get through them.

Surgery repaired my knee. Reflection reminded me that the real strength we rely on is often built long before we need it. That may be the most enduring kind of light there is.

We often discover our resilience was built long before we needed it. What shaped yours?

Hearing the Kids Outside the Window: Recovery Then and Now

 When I was six years old, I was out of school for two weeks with something called the Echo Virus. I remember lying in my bedroom, hearing the neighborhood kids playing outside, laughing and running, and wanting so badly to be out there with them.

My mother would bring my meals upstairs on a tray. I picked at my food. Every day my sister brought home my homework from school. It was a long, boring existence for a six‑year‑old who wanted nothing more than to be part of the action.

Here I am all these years later, two weeks after a knee replacement, and I find myself in a strangely familiar place.

I’m inside again.

I read. I write. I watch the Olympics and the occasional movie. I do my exercises. I ice. I elevate. I rest. I repeat.

And just like that six‑year‑old, I can hear life going on without me.

The Impatience of Healing

This time, I understand what’s happening. I know I’ve had major surgery. I understand that bone healing takes months. Soft tissues need time to settle. Inflammation doesn’t disappear on command.

And yet, there’s a part of me that wants to push recovery into two weeks instead of the months they say it will take.

I want to hurry it along. I want to check the box. I want to be “back.”

But biology doesn’t negotiate.

When Recovery Feels Like Childhood

What surprises me most is not the pain or the stiffness. It’s the emotional echo.

That same feeling of being sidelined. That same impatience. That same longing to be where the action is.

As a child, I didn’t understand why I had to wait. I just knew I didn’t like it.

As an adult, I understand the science of healing — but I still don’t like waiting.

There is something humbling about needing help again. About relying on others. About accepting that progress will come in increments, not leaps.

The Shift That Will Come

If I look back at that six‑year‑old, I know something she didn’t know then: she would recover. She would go back outside. She would rejoin the world.

This season is no different.

Two weeks after knee replacement is still early. It is the “inside phase.” The swelling phase. The repetition phase. The slow and steady phase.

There will be a shift. Not overnight. Not dramatically. But gradually.

A little less swelling. A little more bend (uggg this part is so hard). A little more confidence.

And I hope,
one day, without noticing exactly when it happened, I’ll be back outside again.

Living the Lesson

As someone who writes about resilience and hope in Caitlin’s Star, I’m reminded that growth doesn’t always feel inspiring while it’s happening. Sometimes it feels boring. Frustrating. Confining.

But healing — whether at six years old or decades later — still requires patience.

The kids are playing outside the window.

And this time, I know I’ll join them again.