What Really Matters

 People spend so much of their early and middle adulthood building careers, proving themselves, achieving, striving, and managing responsibilities. But over time many begin to realize that while work matters, it is not usually the thing they hold closest at the end of the day or the end of life. 

 What remains are relationships, purpose, meaning, moments of joy, people who mattered, animals we loved, places that felt like home, work that aligned with who we really were, and the feeling that our lives meant something beyond productivity. 

 Perhaps the most meaningful parts of our careers are not the titles we held, but the lives we touched, the encouragement we gave, and the differences we made along the way.

One Step at a Time

 

Yesterday, I noticed something small, but it stuck with me.

As I was walking, I realized I didn’t need to look down at every step. For weeks, I have been doing just that, watching carefully and making sure I felt steady. It was part of the healing.

But yesterday felt a little different.

I caught myself looking ahead. Not the whole time, I still glanced down now and then, but enough to notice the shift.

And it made me think about the job search.

In the beginning, it feels a lot like looking down at your feet. You are focused on the next step. Your résumé. Your LinkedIn profile. Networking, maybe for the first time in a long time. Each step takes thought, and sometimes a little courage.

It can feel slow and at times frustrating.

But those small steps are doing more than you think.

Over time, if you keep at it something changes. You get a bit more comfortable and confident. You start to lift your head and think not just about the next step, but about where you are going. The kind of role you want. The kind of company you want to share your skill set with.

You're still careful but you're looking ahead.

I guess that is how progress works, whether it is healing or a job search. It's not one big leap, but a series of small steps that slowly build confidence.

Yesterday, I noticed I was looking ahead and that felt like progress.

Healing Happens Here, Too

 Last Thursday, during my physical therapy session, something unexpected happened.

While my PT was pushing on my knee, the painful part of therapy, she asked what I was doing for the rest of the day. I mentioned that I was being interviewed by the local paper about my book, Caitlin’s Star.

She paused and said, “Bring it in sometime. I’d love to see it.”

So today I did.

While I was pedaling on the stationary bike for my ten-minute warmup, she sat nearby and began reading the story. As she read, she shared the book with another therapist in the clinic. That therapist had told me the week before that her boyfriend’s five-year-old niece had recently lost her mother. She believed the book might help.

Physical therapy is about rebuilding strength, regaining movement, and restoring confidence. In many ways, grief is the same. It’s not linear. Some days feel like progress. Some days feel like you want to stay in bed.

When I wrote Caitlin’s Star, I hoped it would reach families in living rooms and bedtime moments. I didn’t imagine it being read in a physical therapy clinic while I worked to bend my knee.

Loss reshapes us. So does recovery.

Both ask us to stretch beyond what feels comfortable. Both require support. Both remind us that progress is sometimes measured in unseen ways.

As I pedaled, I thought about the little girl who lost her mom. I thought about how children need language for feelings they cannot yet name. I thought about how adults need it too.

My therapist looked up and said, “This is really beautiful. I love how you can personalize it for other people and how you can keep a journal in the back for any loved one.”

The other therapist mentioned that the part of the book about the rainbow reminded her of her grandmother who passed away this fall. “She’s always sending me rainbows,” she said.

That’s the point of the story.

It isn’t just about one grandmother.
It’s about seeing your person in the pages.
It’s about remembering.

It’s about the subtle ways love still shows up — in a nail salon, a physical therapy room, a group session, or wherever it’s needed most.

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?