THE NAME
It wasn’t until I started moving faster and focusing on things at eye level, instead of what was left behind, that I found something that resembled strength.
The phrase,“Stronger Girl,” was born along an uphill hike in Red River Gorge, Kentucky when my family of five was testing our togetherness (and our endurance) during the fall of 2011.
The coining of this phrase is one of my favorite memories ever, embedded into my heart like a permanent Etch A Sketch drawing, with no threat of ever being erased. It was given birth by my youngest daughter in a humble declaration on the forest floor, amidst tree roots, rocks and pines that towered above us.
It was a peak color weekend in Kentucky, which makes it hard to take your eyes off the trees, knowing their beauty is fleeting and just a gust or two of strong wind can strip them bare. Brilliant shades of yellow, orange and red leaves threatened to confetti their way onto the ground with every back-and-forth sway.
We had rented a cabin overlooking a tiny lake that was sprinkled with bright green moss and pink floral lily pads that offered humble cover for hungry, gullible fish, eager to nibble squiggly worms on hooks. We grilled stacks of pancakes covered with thick, buttery syrup, and ate them porch-side as we enjoyed our little slice of heaven.
One morning, we laced up to go hiking, keeping in mind our youngest’s little legs would have to walk twice as many steps to equal our own. Along the last trail, everyone was growing weary, but we kept focused on our mission to press forward to reach our destination, a humble waterfall about a half-mile away.
We reminded the kids to look down to watch out for roots that could trip them up, but not to miss the eye level sites along the way. With the exception of crunching leaves and a few extra breaths on the uphill climbs, it was quiet as we all felt the burn and tug of muscles.
All of a sudden, our youngest announced in a loud and proud voice as her fists tightened in little balls, her elbows pumped in strong diagonals and her stride grew longer and bolder, “Look, everyone! I’m a STRONGER GIRL!” Her delivery was poetic, and perfect. And, her little puffed out chest nearly exploded with confidence as her large, golden brown eyes widened in anticipation of our reaction.
Collectively, we agreed with her. “YES, she WAS a stronger girl,” we acknowledged, smitten with her enthusiasm. It was just the reminder we needed to keep going. We marveled at the stronger girl marching ahead of us, her bouncy sun-kissed pony tail leading the way, so we stepped up our own strides to match her example. Our family has never forgotten that in-the-moment coined phrase. “Stronger girl” became a part of our everyday vocabulary.
Fast-forward to 2020 and I found myself on another uphill journey, one I was not expecting. It knocked the breath out of me on a daily basis and I was continually dodging the roots of this pain in an effort just to move forward. I realized it was time to be a “stronger girl.”
It wasn’t until I started moving faster and focusing on things at eye level, instead of what was left behind, that I found something that resembled strength. Ironically, that strength was born through weakness, and supported by connectedness with others. In order to be a stronger girl I needed to truly feel the gut-tugging fear to understand what I could learn from it. Then, when it was time, I lengthened my stride in an effort to persevere.
Written by Stacy Smith Rogers