Tricia's letter to readers of NOVA: The Courage to Rise

Like Stella, my grandfather played a huge role in my upbringing. My grandmother too. When I was eight years old, my grandfather loaded up his van with sacks of groceries and invited me to come along for the ride.

We stopped in front of the tiniest house I had ever seen. As we made our way to the front door, sobbing and crying filled the air. My grandfather knocked. I stood, frozen, unable to conjure up an explanation for the misery I could feel oozing through the cracks under the door and through the thin walls.

A small girl, perhaps three years old, opened the door. Her little face was streaked with fresh tears. When she saw our arms filled with sacks of groceries, she stopped crying, wiped her eyes, and said, “Food?”

Inside we found four children, the oldest a girl who appeared to be about nine. There were no parents present. The wailing stopped as each child in turn saw the goods we’d brought—canned beans, powdered milk, cereal, dried soups, pasta, rice, pasta sauce, and canned tomatoes.

I had never witnessed hunger or poverty like this before. It changed me forever.

In the basement of my grandparents’ home was a bedroom-sized room that we called the pantry. The walls were lined with shelves which were filled with food. They did this for one reason: when someone knocked on their door and asked for help, my grandparents had a stock of food to give. They were, in those years, the equivalent of a successful outreach program. A non-denominational, not-for-profit, humble organization of two people who loved others unconditionally.

My grandparents are the reason I pursued my passion for serving those who need someone to listen, a shoulder to lean on, a friend to support an idea, funds to restart, a wall to bounce a thousand balls of ideas off.

I've had the honor of getting to know girls just like Aurora. Girls who may not have had the connection they wanted from a mother, or parents, for a variety of reasons. Some of these girls have come through the foster system, some living with other family members, and some simply in a home with parents too busy working several jobs just to put food on the table or dealing with issues that eclipse their ability to parent effectively.

When I came up with the idea for this book, it was to find a way to help girls like Stella and Aurora—and you—learn to see the potential in themselves and their futures. To learn that you already have what you need, whatever your circumstances or your past. I hope you may find the inspiration in Stella and Aurora’s Questlisting to embark on your own quest and that you discover, in the process, that there is indeed beauty in everything, we just have to make a choice to see it.

And speaking of beauty in everything, that’s the name of my foundation: The Beauty in Everything Foundation. Here, we are committed to the development of girls and young women by giving them access to resources and the tools girls need to thrive.

We are obsessed with showing girls they are amazing, they are warriors, and to help them dream big dreams. Then we give them the tools to achieve those dreams. We are a group of passionate, driven, hard-working, and generous women who won’t stop until we inspire and empower a group of girls (a large group of girls, an insanely large group of girls) to be passionate, driven, hard-working, kind, and courageous. That is our goal. Our goal is to inspire and empower girls to think they breathe fire. Fire like Aurora’s streaming, flaming, gorgeous hair and Stella’s new-found burning desire to share with others what she discovered by speaking into her reflection in the spoon and turning that into a podcast.

Ready for your own quest? Go forth and breathe fire.

—Tricia