Dear Steffany, I think about you more often than you’d expect, and always with the kind of warmth reserved for someone who once changed my life with a puppy. We haven’t seen each other in years, but your light has never dimmed in my memory. I still remember Tuesday Morning—those days of post-high-school chaos and low-wage camaraderie—mostly because of how bright you made them. You were the fun one. The outgoing one. A newlywed, a new mama beaming with pride over your baby boy Josh. You had this spark that made people feel lucky to be near it. I don’t think I ever told you just how much that meant to me. We bonded over music, over laughter, and especially over animals. You had your sweet miniature dachshunds—Lilo and Stitch—and I had Atticus. We talked about our dogs like they were family because, well, they were. You knew how much Atticus meant to me, and that I hoped to raise his bloodline alongside mine. What you did next was one of the kindest, most generous surprises of my life. Right around my 21st birthday, you and Jamie cooked up a plan. I thought I was getting fish for my birthday—literally. A fish tank. We were at Petco, and I was fully expecting goldfish or guppies or something simple and sweet. But then we turned the corner… and there you were. Holding the most beautiful little dapple dachshund I’d ever seen. Matilda. My jaw dropped. My heart burst. You smiled that big, excited smile like you knew exactly what you were giving me—not just a puppy, but something much, much deeper. Matilda was everything. She was pure joy, wild energy, and perfect sweetness all rolled into one tiny creature. She was deeply loved every single day of her life. Her time with us was too short—cut short by illness—but she lived fully, fearlessly, and with so much love surrounding her. She had three beautiful sons: Frankenstein (Frankie), Bruce Wayne, and Charlie. Frankie and Bruce Wayne stayed with us—Frankie lived to be almost 13, and Bruce made it to 15 and a half. Eventually, Frankie had a daughter: Penny. A beautiful dapple just like her grandmother. Penny still lives with us today. She’s grown up alongside our kids. She’s part of the family, just like Matilda was. And often when I look at her, I think of you. Of Lilo and Stitch. Of how much light you shared by trusting me with that little soul. That legacy still runs through our house—on tiny paws and wagging tails—and it all traces back to you. I found you on Facebook years later, and I’ve followed along ever since—watching you go viral with your incredible cake creations, laughing at your hilarious TikToks, and feeling constant admiration for the strength, creativity, and joy you radiate. Even while facing health challenges, you’ve remained fierce, fun, and inspiring as hell. You’ve always had that spark. I don’t think it ever went out—it just got stronger. So, Steffany, thank you. Thank you for being the light in a random retail job that turned out to be anything but ordinary. Thank you for Matilda, for the surprise, for the love, and for trusting me with a piece of your heart. Thank you for being the kind of person who stays with someone long after the shift ends. You are amazing. You always have been. And I’m lucky to have known you. With so much love, Lauren
Dear Toren, The internet can be loud, cold, and cruel. But then—every once in a while—someone like you shows up. And suddenly, it feels like stars are breaking through the static. I don’t remember exactly when I found you—but I remember the feeling. A sudden hush in my chest. The way my breath caught on the truth of your presence—your light, real light, the kind that can’t be filtered, pouring through my screen and into my soul. You weren’t performing. You were being. And there is so much power in that. In a world of noise, you and your mom carry something sacred: an unfiltered, unflinching, unstoppable joy-the kind that comes not from pretending to be okay, but from loving yourself exactly as you are and letting that love ripple outward. Watching you… listening to you… I saw pieces of my son. And in your mom, I saw myself. The hopes. The fears. The sacred fire of trying to raise a child with everything you have—and then some. The kind of love that rearranges you from the inside out. The kind that says, “I see you. I hear you. And I’m staying with you.” And while we’re here—can I just say? Your fashion sense is unmatched. Every outfit is a moment. Every accessory, a small act of liberation. You express joy, truth, and color before you’ve even said a word. It’s art. Because of you, I’ve learned more about how to love my children. Because of you, I’ve softened toward myself. Because of you, I’ve started to understand: the things I once labeled as “too much” were never flaws—just parts of my light trying to break free. You’ve reminded me that neurodivergence isn’t a detour. It’s a map. A divine, detailed map to a new kind of wholeness—one where nothing has to be hidden or fixed to be loved. You shine, Toren. You and Serenity Christine are so beautiful—your inner light shines bright beyond the surface. In every sea shanty. In every moment of humor, honesty, hope. In every word Serenity wraps around you like a song. And you remind the rest of us—every day—that being yourself isn’t just enough. It’s everything. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Keep shining. With Love, Lauren Searching for Stars
Hello There Elyse, I just wanted to take a moment to say something I’ve thought a hundred times but never said out loud: thank you. I first found your videos sometime during the post-pandemic haze — that weird stretch of days when everything still felt heavy, uncertain, a little upside down. And there you were. A bright, hilarious, original spark in the middle of it all. It felt like stumbling across a light left on in a room you didn’t realize you needed to find. You stood out immediately — not just because you’re funny (though you are, brilliantly so), but because you’re real. Your energy, your storytelling, the way your whole face and spirit move when you talk — it’s magic. It’s the kind of thing you can’t fake, and it’s rare. You made heavy days feel lighter without pretending the weight wasn’t there. As someone who’s struggled with anxiety on and off my whole life, I can’t tell you how much it meant — and still means — to see someone show up the way you do. Brave. Honest. Still funny. Still kind. Still human. On days when it felt like the dark was winning, you reminded me it wasn’t. Sometimes just by being you. Sometimes just by posting anything at all. And there’s something else you said once — something that rooted itself deep in my heart and stayed: “If I’m too much, go find less.” That spirit — that fierce, funny, beautiful refusal to shrink — lit something up in me. Thank you for showing us that it’s not just okay to take up space — it’s necessary. It’s needed. It’s powerful. I’ve also been inspired by you as a mother. Watching you walk through hard seasons — like your son’s heart surgery — with courage and love has been incredibly moving. You manage to hold hope and humor and honesty all in the same hand, and it’s beautiful. It matters. It shows. And while I’m at it, I have to say: your Office-themed pregnancy announcement? Absolutely fantastic, just perfect. Totally impressive! In a world that sometimes asks for polish over truth, you keep choosing truth. You keep choosing light. You remind the rest of us that it’s okay to be a little messy, a little awkward, a little human — and that there’s still so much joy to be found in all of it. So thank you, Elyse. Thank you for being a light when it was hard. Thank you for being a reminder that even when the world feels heavy, it’s still a great day to be alive. You’re one of the stars people find when they need to remember that. Keep shining. We’re so glad you’re here. With lots of love & light, Lauren
Dear Joy, Some people move through this world leaving quiet trails of light, never knowing just how far their glow will reach. You are one of them. I found your Instagram around 2012, at a time when I was trying to find my way back to myself. Life had left me shaken—grief had settled in places I didn’t know it could reach, and I was rebuilding, piece by piece. In that season of searching, I stumbled across your world—the way you wrote, the way you saw beauty in the imperfect, the way you carried light even in the hardest moments. And somehow, through the small miracle of timing, it reached me when I needed it most. I remember watching as you and your family traveled, in that adorable camper with the painted flowers, moving from place to place, gathering moments like keepsakes. Your words weren’t just captions beneath images; they were soft lanterns, reminders to be present, to see the story unfolding in the life I was already living. At the time, my husband and I were passing through Texas and Arkansas, and I remember you pausing in Hope—finding hope in Hope. And I felt connected to that, as if we were both moving through similar landscapes, both looking for something unseen but deeply felt. Over the years, I have watched your journey, and in turn, you have shaped my own. You have inspired me as a mother—to embrace imperfection, to let love and presence be enough. You have reminded me that beauty is not in the flawless moments but in the honest ones. Your photography, your storytelling, the way you have carried on through hardship—it has been a quiet encouragement, a permission slip to create, to feel, to keep moving forward. I don’t know if you realize how much light you have given. But I want you to know this: You have been a light to me. You have made me a better human. And for that, I am endlessly grateful. May you always find stars in the darkest skies and feel the same warmth you so freely share. With love and light, -Lauren
A Thank You to Chuck Norris Chuck Norris doesn’t just inspire people—he roundhouse-kicks inspiration directly into their lives. I have never met Chuck Norris. But somehow, the man has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. And honestly? I owe him a thank you. Some people grow up with childhood heroes—movie stars, athletes, cartoon characters. Me? I grew up with Walker, Texas Ranger. It was my granny’s favorite show, and that meant it was our show. If Walker was on, the world could wait. And if Chuck Norris said something was important, you listened. Which is why one completely normal day, in the middle of my childhood, Chuck Norris unknowingly changed my life. The Day Chuck Norris Pulled Me Out of Class I was about 11 or 12, going through a rough patch—my family was on edge due to some pretty serious circumstances, and life felt uncertain. But on this one particular day, I was sitting in school, minding my own business, when I got called to the office. Now, let me set the scene: this had never happened before. My mind immediately jumped to panic mode. Had something happened to my dad? Was I in trouble? Was I about to be abducted by secret government agents? Turns out, none of the above. I walked into the office, and there sat my granny, looking dead serious. And then she said, “I was watching Walker, Texas Ranger today, and at the end of the episode, Chuck Norris said that kids should do karate.” Now, if anyone else had said this, it might have seemed random . But this was my granny. And this was Chuck Norris. She proceeded to tell me that she had seen a flyer for karate lessons at the Methodist Church and, since Chuck Norris personally recommended it (as far as she was concerned), she wanted to sign me up. She would pay for it, take me to my lessons, tournaments, everything. So I did it. And you know what? It helped me so much. Karate taught me discipline, confidence, awareness, and strength. But even more than that, it gave me treasured memories with my granny. She never missed a class. She never hesitated to be there for me. And all because Chuck Norris gave her the idea. The Total Gym Obsession (And My Baby Workout Partner) Fast forward a few years: I’m in high school, and late-night TV is infomercial gold. And the best of the best? The Total Gym commercial. I was obsessed. I wanted one so bad. Chuck Norris made that thing look like the ultimate workout. Forget a normal gym—I wanted the Chuck Norris way. Years later, after I had my first baby, Jaxon, I told my husband Jamie that I deserved a present for having his child. Naturally, I asked for a Total Gym. Jamie delivered. And so did the Total Gym. Not only did it help me get into the best shape of my life—even better than before having a baby—but it became a special bonding time with my son. Jaxon loved it. He hated being rocked in a chair, but if I laid back on the Total Gym, holding him in my arms while doing squats, and sang to him? He was out like a light. I literally sang my babies to sleep on a Chuck Norris workout machine. I have photos, videos, and countless memories of this. And now? Jaxon and Maggie love using the Total Gym, too. Chuck Norris workouts have officially become a family legacy. Post-Baby #3 & The Roundhouse Kick to My Gut Health Now, after my third pregnancy , I was feeling the weight of time. Recovery was slower, energy was lower, and I needed something extra. Enter: Chuck Norris’ Roundhouse green juice and probiotic. Embarrassingly enough to admit I have struggled with gut health probably my entire life. But this? Game-changer. Chuck Norris doesn’t sell health products. He sells bottled invincibility. Between the Total Gym, proper diet, exercise, and this probiotic, I have felt stronger, more energized, and healthier than I could have imagined. And yes, I fully believe that Chuck Norris himself has something to do with that. The Shirt, The Legend, The Roundhouse Kick of Gratitude Jamie once had a Chuck Norris t-shirt I gifted him that read: “Chuck Norris doesn’t break hearts. He breaks legs.” He loved that shirt. He wore it until it literally fell apart. And when it did? I saved it to make a t-shirt quilt. Chuck Norris, you’ve been more than just a Texas icon—you’ve been an unexpected mentor, a source of strength, and a legend in my life. Because of you, my granny walked into my school and signed me up for karate. Because of you, I got in the best shape of my life—and somehow turned a piece of workout equipment into a lullaby for my babies. Because of you, I found strength in every season of my life—before kids, after kids, and even now, as I chase them around. I may never get the chance to meet you. But if I do, I’ll shake your hand, look you in the eye, and say thank you. And then I’ll probably embarrass myself by crying. Chuck Norris doesn’t just inspire—he leaves a roundhouse-kick-sized impact on people’s lives and footprints of strength wherever he stands.
Dear Steffany, I think about you more often than you’d expect, and always with the kind of warmth reserved for someone who once changed my life with a puppy. We haven’t seen each other in years, but your light has never dimmed in my memory. I still remember Tuesday Morning—those days of post-high-school chaos and low-wage camaraderie—mostly because of how bright you made them. You were the fun one. The outgoing one. A newlywed, a new mama beaming with pride over your baby boy Josh. You had this spark that made people feel lucky to be near it. I don’t think I ever told you just how much that meant to me. We bonded over music, over laughter, and especially over animals. You had your sweet miniature dachshunds—Lilo and Stitch—and I had Atticus. We talked about our dogs like they were family because, well, they were. You knew how much Atticus meant to me, and that I hoped to raise his bloodline alongside mine. What you did next was one of the kindest, most generous surprises of my life. Right around my 21st birthday, you and Jamie cooked up a plan. I thought I was getting fish for my birthday—literally. A fish tank. We were at Petco, and I was fully expecting goldfish or guppies or something simple and sweet. But then we turned the corner… and there you were. Holding the most beautiful little dapple dachshund I’d ever seen. Matilda. My jaw dropped. My heart burst. You smiled that big, excited smile like you knew exactly what you were giving me—not just a puppy, but something much, much deeper. Matilda was everything. She was pure joy, wild energy, and perfect sweetness all rolled into one tiny creature. She was deeply loved every single day of her life. Her time with us was too short—cut short by illness—but she lived fully, fearlessly, and with so much love surrounding her. She had three beautiful sons: Frankenstein (Frankie), Bruce Wayne, and Charlie. Frankie and Bruce Wayne stayed with us—Frankie lived to be almost 13, and Bruce made it to 15 and a half. Eventually, Frankie had a daughter: Penny. A beautiful dapple just like her grandmother. Penny still lives with us today. She’s grown up alongside our kids. She’s part of the family, just like Matilda was. And often when I look at her, I think of you. Of Lilo and Stitch. Of how much light you shared by trusting me with that little soul. That legacy still runs through our house—on tiny paws and wagging tails—and it all traces back to you. I found you on Facebook years later, and I’ve followed along ever since—watching you go viral with your incredible cake creations, laughing at your hilarious TikToks, and feeling constant admiration for the strength, creativity, and joy you radiate. Even while facing health challenges, you’ve remained fierce, fun, and inspiring as hell. You’ve always had that spark. I don’t think it ever went out—it just got stronger. So, Steffany, thank you. Thank you for being the light in a random retail job that turned out to be anything but ordinary. Thank you for Matilda, for the surprise, for the love, and for trusting me with a piece of your heart. Thank you for being the kind of person who stays with someone long after the shift ends. You are amazing. You always have been. And I’m lucky to have known you. With so much love, Lauren
Dear Toren, The internet can be loud, cold, and cruel. But then—every once in a while—someone like you shows up. And suddenly, it feels like stars are breaking through the static. I don’t remember exactly when I found you—but I remember the feeling. A sudden hush in my chest. The way my breath caught on the truth of your presence—your light, real light, the kind that can’t be filtered, pouring through my screen and into my soul. You weren’t performing. You were being. And there is so much power in that. In a world of noise, you and your mom carry something sacred: an unfiltered, unflinching, unstoppable joy-the kind that comes not from pretending to be okay, but from loving yourself exactly as you are and letting that love ripple outward. Watching you… listening to you… I saw pieces of my son. And in your mom, I saw myself. The hopes. The fears. The sacred fire of trying to raise a child with everything you have—and then some. The kind of love that rearranges you from the inside out. The kind that says, “I see you. I hear you. And I’m staying with you.” And while we’re here—can I just say? Your fashion sense is unmatched. Every outfit is a moment. Every accessory, a small act of liberation. You express joy, truth, and color before you’ve even said a word. It’s art. Because of you, I’ve learned more about how to love my children. Because of you, I’ve softened toward myself. Because of you, I’ve started to understand: the things I once labeled as “too much” were never flaws—just parts of my light trying to break free. You’ve reminded me that neurodivergence isn’t a detour. It’s a map. A divine, detailed map to a new kind of wholeness—one where nothing has to be hidden or fixed to be loved. You shine, Toren. You and Serenity Christine are so beautiful—your inner light shines bright beyond the surface. In every sea shanty. In every moment of humor, honesty, hope. In every word Serenity wraps around you like a song. And you remind the rest of us—every day—that being yourself isn’t just enough. It’s everything. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Keep shining. With Love, Lauren Searching for Stars
Hello There Elyse, I just wanted to take a moment to say something I’ve thought a hundred times but never said out loud: thank you. I first found your videos sometime during the post-pandemic haze — that weird stretch of days when everything still felt heavy, uncertain, a little upside down. And there you were. A bright, hilarious, original spark in the middle of it all. It felt like stumbling across a light left on in a room you didn’t realize you needed to find. You stood out immediately — not just because you’re funny (though you are, brilliantly so), but because you’re real. Your energy, your storytelling, the way your whole face and spirit move when you talk — it’s magic. It’s the kind of thing you can’t fake, and it’s rare. You made heavy days feel lighter without pretending the weight wasn’t there. As someone who’s struggled with anxiety on and off my whole life, I can’t tell you how much it meant — and still means — to see someone show up the way you do. Brave. Honest. Still funny. Still kind. Still human. On days when it felt like the dark was winning, you reminded me it wasn’t. Sometimes just by being you. Sometimes just by posting anything at all. And there’s something else you said once — something that rooted itself deep in my heart and stayed: “If I’m too much, go find less.” That spirit — that fierce, funny, beautiful refusal to shrink — lit something up in me. Thank you for showing us that it’s not just okay to take up space — it’s necessary. It’s needed. It’s powerful. I’ve also been inspired by you as a mother. Watching you walk through hard seasons — like your son’s heart surgery — with courage and love has been incredibly moving. You manage to hold hope and humor and honesty all in the same hand, and it’s beautiful. It matters. It shows. And while I’m at it, I have to say: your Office-themed pregnancy announcement? Absolutely fantastic, just perfect. Totally impressive! In a world that sometimes asks for polish over truth, you keep choosing truth. You keep choosing light. You remind the rest of us that it’s okay to be a little messy, a little awkward, a little human — and that there’s still so much joy to be found in all of it. So thank you, Elyse. Thank you for being a light when it was hard. Thank you for being a reminder that even when the world feels heavy, it’s still a great day to be alive. You’re one of the stars people find when they need to remember that. Keep shining. We’re so glad you’re here. With lots of love & light, Lauren
Dear Joy, Some people move through this world leaving quiet trails of light, never knowing just how far their glow will reach. You are one of them. I found your Instagram around 2012, at a time when I was trying to find my way back to myself. Life had left me shaken—grief had settled in places I didn’t know it could reach, and I was rebuilding, piece by piece. In that season of searching, I stumbled across your world—the way you wrote, the way you saw beauty in the imperfect, the way you carried light even in the hardest moments. And somehow, through the small miracle of timing, it reached me when I needed it most. I remember watching as you and your family traveled, in that adorable camper with the painted flowers, moving from place to place, gathering moments like keepsakes. Your words weren’t just captions beneath images; they were soft lanterns, reminders to be present, to see the story unfolding in the life I was already living. At the time, my husband and I were passing through Texas and Arkansas, and I remember you pausing in Hope—finding hope in Hope. And I felt connected to that, as if we were both moving through similar landscapes, both looking for something unseen but deeply felt. Over the years, I have watched your journey, and in turn, you have shaped my own. You have inspired me as a mother—to embrace imperfection, to let love and presence be enough. You have reminded me that beauty is not in the flawless moments but in the honest ones. Your photography, your storytelling, the way you have carried on through hardship—it has been a quiet encouragement, a permission slip to create, to feel, to keep moving forward. I don’t know if you realize how much light you have given. But I want you to know this: You have been a light to me. You have made me a better human. And for that, I am endlessly grateful. May you always find stars in the darkest skies and feel the same warmth you so freely share. With love and light, -Lauren
A Thank You to Chuck Norris Chuck Norris doesn’t just inspire people—he roundhouse-kicks inspiration directly into their lives. I have never met Chuck Norris. But somehow, the man has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. And honestly? I owe him a thank you. Some people grow up with childhood heroes—movie stars, athletes, cartoon characters. Me? I grew up with Walker, Texas Ranger. It was my granny’s favorite show, and that meant it was our show. If Walker was on, the world could wait. And if Chuck Norris said something was important, you listened. Which is why one completely normal day, in the middle of my childhood, Chuck Norris unknowingly changed my life. The Day Chuck Norris Pulled Me Out of Class I was about 11 or 12, going through a rough patch—my family was on edge due to some pretty serious circumstances, and life felt uncertain. But on this one particular day, I was sitting in school, minding my own business, when I got called to the office. Now, let me set the scene: this had never happened before. My mind immediately jumped to panic mode. Had something happened to my dad? Was I in trouble? Was I about to be abducted by secret government agents? Turns out, none of the above. I walked into the office, and there sat my granny, looking dead serious. And then she said, “I was watching Walker, Texas Ranger today, and at the end of the episode, Chuck Norris said that kids should do karate.” Now, if anyone else had said this, it might have seemed random . But this was my granny. And this was Chuck Norris. She proceeded to tell me that she had seen a flyer for karate lessons at the Methodist Church and, since Chuck Norris personally recommended it (as far as she was concerned), she wanted to sign me up. She would pay for it, take me to my lessons, tournaments, everything. So I did it. And you know what? It helped me so much. Karate taught me discipline, confidence, awareness, and strength. But even more than that, it gave me treasured memories with my granny. She never missed a class. She never hesitated to be there for me. And all because Chuck Norris gave her the idea. The Total Gym Obsession (And My Baby Workout Partner) Fast forward a few years: I’m in high school, and late-night TV is infomercial gold. And the best of the best? The Total Gym commercial. I was obsessed. I wanted one so bad. Chuck Norris made that thing look like the ultimate workout. Forget a normal gym—I wanted the Chuck Norris way. Years later, after I had my first baby, Jaxon, I told my husband Jamie that I deserved a present for having his child. Naturally, I asked for a Total Gym. Jamie delivered. And so did the Total Gym. Not only did it help me get into the best shape of my life—even better than before having a baby—but it became a special bonding time with my son. Jaxon loved it. He hated being rocked in a chair, but if I laid back on the Total Gym, holding him in my arms while doing squats, and sang to him? He was out like a light. I literally sang my babies to sleep on a Chuck Norris workout machine. I have photos, videos, and countless memories of this. And now? Jaxon and Maggie love using the Total Gym, too. Chuck Norris workouts have officially become a family legacy. Post-Baby #3 & The Roundhouse Kick to My Gut Health Now, after my third pregnancy , I was feeling the weight of time. Recovery was slower, energy was lower, and I needed something extra. Enter: Chuck Norris’ Roundhouse green juice and probiotic. Embarrassingly enough to admit I have struggled with gut health probably my entire life. But this? Game-changer. Chuck Norris doesn’t sell health products. He sells bottled invincibility. Between the Total Gym, proper diet, exercise, and this probiotic, I have felt stronger, more energized, and healthier than I could have imagined. And yes, I fully believe that Chuck Norris himself has something to do with that. The Shirt, The Legend, The Roundhouse Kick of Gratitude Jamie once had a Chuck Norris t-shirt I gifted him that read: “Chuck Norris doesn’t break hearts. He breaks legs.” He loved that shirt. He wore it until it literally fell apart. And when it did? I saved it to make a t-shirt quilt. Chuck Norris, you’ve been more than just a Texas icon—you’ve been an unexpected mentor, a source of strength, and a legend in my life. Because of you, my granny walked into my school and signed me up for karate. Because of you, I got in the best shape of my life—and somehow turned a piece of workout equipment into a lullaby for my babies. Because of you, I found strength in every season of my life—before kids, after kids, and even now, as I chase them around. I may never get the chance to meet you. But if I do, I’ll shake your hand, look you in the eye, and say thank you. And then I’ll probably embarrass myself by crying. Chuck Norris doesn’t just inspire—he leaves a roundhouse-kick-sized impact on people’s lives and footprints of strength wherever he stands.
