Compassion in Action Future Medical Leaders Scholarship

Agape is a type of love. It is a higher type of love. One that is unconditional and selfless in nature. I love to love, and one of my favorite forms of love is worship—loving through music. My middle name is Cadence. The word describes rhythms and patterns in sounds, like music or voices. It builds the beat, the foundation upon which the melodies and harmonies are laid. It is the note that the music will eventually find its way back to. For the heart, its cadence is its life force. All other parts of the body depend on it. I think of the heartbeat as the sound of life, and for me, the sound of love is the music of worship. The constant ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump is a reminder of the cacophony of life within us. There’s no life without the heart, and there’s no living without love. For me, living out a life of love is my act of worship. Faith is beautiful for its ability to turn pain into something good. My love for God has carried me through many rough times, and taught me to remain gentle and kind despite the evil in the world. I understand these things now, but it has taken my whole life to learn them. Ba-dump. When I was little, I didn’t know where I fit in. I wasn’t fully Asian: I only spoke English, and my mother didn’t look like my Asian friends’ moms. Ba-dump. But I also wasn’t accepted as Caucasian. I didn’t look like the other White girls I knew. Nor could I completely relate to them. Ba-dump. I was torn in half, compelled to choose between two halves of my entire identity. I questioned God. Why did I have to choose in the first place? How could He create me like this and put me in a world that sees only black and white? But the Lord spoke to my heart. I was not made to choose, but to bridge connections between people in order to show them that we are not so different after all. Life has taught me that there is an abundance of hurt in the world—a deafening silence where the sound of love should be. But because of that, it is my spiritual obligation to make the world better. That looks like loving, just as I have been loved: unconditionally. It is making the choice to go against the grain and to celebrate what good we have, and what good we will bring into existence: sounds of joy and love and laughter. I want my whole life to be one great act of worship. A true display of what agape means. Because I know what it takes to survive, I know how to live. Medicine is my calling. It will allow me to give the gift of life to others. I hope to share my faith and love with everyone I encounter. Those around me will learn by example. They will make their own music. They will keep marching on to their own heart-beat. Love will be our lifeline.

My mother is Korean, and my father is Caucasian. I never considered myself different until I began participating in sports at a young age. We live in a small city in Wyoming, where the state is 86% white. Asians are less than 1% of the population. I never had an issue in our local school systems either, until junior high, but the first time I heard the word “gook” was at an out-of-state baseball tournament. Then, when I started wearing glasses, I heard some classmates start calling me “squints.” In junior high, some would say your nose is so flat and your eyes are so squinted that you run into walls. I did not initially understand why they would say that, but then I learned that I was considered “different.” I am fortunate to go to a small-town Christian school at Concordia University in Seward, Nebraska. This was my first long-term stay away from my family. I am a student–athlete. This Christian value school was an excellent fit for the start of my education journey. I formed an instant new family with my cross-country teammates, which continued through the track season and into the remainder of the school year. My coach is a Christian. We put forth Christ ahead of everything we do as a team. All the glory goes to him. I knew I wanted to become an ophthalmologist since I donned the traditional cap and gown for my kindergarten graduation. It felt like a natural fit for me, as I had been functionally blind and wearing glasses since a very young age. My interest in pursuing a doctorate grew stronger as I excelled in advanced high school math and science courses. Ophthalmology offers a wealth of opportunities for research and education in complex surgeries, and I'm more than ready to take on the challenge. My ultimate goal is to utilize innovative discoveries and medical advances in ophthalmology to help individuals one by one. As a pre-med student in Concordia University Nebraska’s distinguished biochemistry program, I am thrilled to pursue my passion for the art and science of caregiving. Medicine offers a rewarding blend of technical proficiency and empathetic communication, and I am eager to develop these skills further as I pursue a career as a physician. With a steadfast commitment to professionalism, a compassionate demeanor, and an unwavering ability to stay calm in challenging situations, I am confident that I possess the necessary qualities to thrive in medicine. My unwavering passion for making a meaningful difference in patients' lives, coupled with my unrelenting drive to continually expand my knowledge and expertise in the healthcare industry, will undoubtedly propel me toward success in this fulfilling and demanding profession. In this world, we each possess a unique identity, akin to a puzzle piece. Our distinct qualities truly set us apart, making us unique. My life experiences, values, talents, and perspectives all weave together to form a one-of-a-kind tapestry that distinguishes me from others. Recognizing and embracing these characteristics is integral to discovering and accepting my true self. My unwavering Christian values serve as my guiding light, leading me through life's twists and turns. They shape my decisions, actions, and interactions with the world. Embracing these values allows me to stand out in a society that often pressures us to conform. By remaining true to myself, I can radiate my uniqueness in a world where uniformity is the norm.

One of my Asian friends turned to me and said, “You’re so pale—you look like you’ve never been outside.” Everyone laughed. I laughed too. But later that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t just my ghostly skin tone that was haunting me—it was a deep, underlying feeling I had always carried: I didn’t fully belong anywhere. Being half Chinese and half white has always made me feel like I’m stuck in the middle. Growing up in an Americanized home, I often felt disconnected from my Asian side. I didn’t speak my mother’s language, and I wasn’t immersed in traditional Asian customs. A part of me always felt like something was missing, like I wasn’t fully part of either world. That sense of misbelonging followed me throughout my life, but it became most apparent to me in high school. It wasn’t always noticeable, but I felt it most when I gravitated toward a mostly Asian friend group. I was embarrassed when they would make jokes or speak in Mandarin, which I couldn’t understand. At Asian restaurants, I fumbled with chopsticks while everyone else seemed at ease. I wanted to change, but how could I suddenly learn Mandarin overnight? There seemed to be no way to escape the feeling of being out of place. At the same time, I wasn’t the athletic, outdoorsy, sports-loving guy that my white friends were. I looked different from them and shared fewer common interests, making it hard to bond. That isolation—feeling like I wasn’t enough of one thing, yet too much of another—was overwhelming. For a while, I felt lost, like a jellyfish floating without purpose. But in those quiet moments, I turned to my faith. I didn’t have know what to say, but I prayed anyway. Slowly, I began to feel less alone. Through those conversations—sometimes prayers, sometimes just thoughts—I realized I didn’t need to fit into a mold. Maybe I was made this way for a reason. I began attending church more, and there, I found a community that accepted me. I stopped trying to be what others expected and started to embrace who I already was. I came to believe that God created me intentionally, with all my complexities, and I stopped trying to compensate for things that weren’t part of my true self. As I grew more confident in my identity, I also became more open to others. I started noticing people who seemed isolated, just as I had once felt. I saw the value in offering a listening ear, in showing compassion to people who struggled with their own sense of belonging. My faith taught me to care for others in a real, present way—to listen without judgment and to offer support when it was needed most. This is why I want to pursue a career in medicine. I’ve always had a passion for science, but what really draws me to healthcare is the human aspect: the chance to be there for someone when they’re vulnerable, scared, or uncertain. I want to be the kind of doctor who doesn’t just treat symptoms, but who sees the individual behind the visit. My identity and my faith have taught me how powerful it is to feel truly seen and heard, and I want to give that same feeling to others. I want to serve people to the best of my ability, offering not just care, but compassion.