Written in Stone

What Story will your name carry?

I’ve had some thoughts this week that brought my message: “You get one lifetime” into focus in a new way. Seeing your name on a grave will do that.

This week, I was in Savannah for a keynote at a business summit. A room full of leaders, professionals, and high achievers… all trying to navigate challenges, build meaningful careers, lead people well, and become all they’re capable of becoming.

I was the closing keynote. I love this position. I was there to encourage them to take action on the ideas they heard at the conference. To embrace change. To step fully into their lives instead of sitting on the sidelines of them hoping it gets easier.

It was a great audience.
The event went really well.

But Savannah is more than a speaking destination for me… and on the drive home, I realized I missed an opportunity.

You see, part of my family history runs through the streets of Savannah… and I should have connected that more.

The day before I spoke, I walked through my family plot in one of Savannah’s old cemeteries and I took some photos.

I’m named after Nina Anderson Pape, a pioneering educator who founded the Pape School in Savannah in 1905 (it became Savanah Country Day School), she helped bring kindergarten education to Georgia, and she believed girls should be taught how to think… not what to think.

The very first Girl Scout meeting was held at her school. She was there, so was my grandfather, he was 10, waiting on his sister.

Through that same family line, I’m related to Juliette Gordon Low, the woman who started Girl Scouting. Who looked at the world differently and decided girls deserved more adventure, leadership, confidence, and possibility.

As I walked through that cemetery… I kept seeing my own name.

Nina.
Nina.
Nina.

Generations of lives.

Women who loved deeply. Worked hard. Built families. Survived difficult seasons. Carried burdens nobody else could see. Women who were probably trying to hold it all together too.

And eventually… all of those complicated, beautiful lives became names carved into stone.

It got me thinking about how much time we spend worried about getting everything right.

The deadlines. The pressure. The proving. The constant pace of life. The fear of falling behind.

We move so fast that we forget to zoom out and ask the bigger question: Who am I becoming while I’m building this life?

Standing there, all I could think about was something I say on stage all the time:

“You get one lifetime.”

One stretch of years to become who you’re going to become. One chance to decide what kind of human you’ll be. One opportunity to leave behind more than a résumé.

And I found myself wishing I had shared those cemetery photos during the keynote. The gravestones were just down the street from the convention center.

It would have made the message - More personal. More urgent. More human.

I talked about embracing change and adapting in a rapidly changing world. I encouraged people to take control of the story of their lives. But I could have shown them … literally written in stone.

I care so much about this work.

Not because life is easy. growth is comfortable, and reinvention is not glamorous.

I care and share messages so often because life moves quickly.

Somewhere between the meetings, responsibilities, goals, worries, and routines… it’s easy to forget that we are actively becoming the person our future will remember.

That’s the real work.

Not perfection.
Not image.
Not keeping up.

Becoming… Becoming someone brave enough to evolve. Strong enough to handle hard seasons. Wise enough to know that success without meaning eventually feels empty. Present enough to actually live the life they’re building.

Those women buried in Savannah reminded me of something else too:

We are all part of a longer story.

Someone before us survived hard things so we could stand where we stand now.

Someone sacrificed.
Someone encouraged.
Someone built something.
Someone believed in possibility before the world caught up.

And now it becomes our turn. This generation has been through a lot and we have not gotten it all right.

We need to build something meaningful. To love people well. To keep growing. To become the kind of people whose impact lasts longer than our job title.

Because someday, years from now, someone may say your name.

And the real question is:

What story will it carry?

This trip reminded me that I come from a long line of ‘strong women’.

I hope someday someone will say the same, long after me.