Offering sympathy is only something a good person could do, but a great person is empathetic, and boy, do I know a great person. The pure sparkle in her eyes and the pleasure in her smile make it difficult to remain upset even in the slightest. Every time I arrive at my dad’s house, she greets me with a tender hug, making it effortless to melt into her warm embrace. And though this is not my biological mom, this woman gave me life. This woman is my bonus mom, Shenia, and her extremely profound appreciation for life is admirable. When I first met Shenia, I couldn’t quite seem to understand just why she was always smiling. “Why was she always so joyful?” “Why did she walk throughout life with such great enthusiasm, when we’re not even doing anything fun?” I’d ask myself, but the more I observed, the more I learned: it’s hard to dislike people up close. Shenia has always been an “up-close” person. She’s typically the first at the dinner table to ask how our family's day had been going or what we’re looking forward to in the coming weeks. She gave lasting words of encouragement, so much so that I began hearing her voice telling me to “keep pushing” on the days that seemed impossible. We’d go out on thrilling dates together in the city with her other two daughters. We've even been blessed to travel the world as a blended family. A couple of months back, Shenia participated in a 30-day gratitude challenge—30 different videos to 30 different people—expressing her immense love and care to those around her. My day arrived, and in my video, she subtly alluded to the loss of her first beautiful baby girl, Kennedy. A gut-wrenching experience, more intense than anyone can possibly fathom. She expressed the confusion it brought upon her, wondering exactly what it would be like to have three girls. When the video commenced, happy tears flooded from my eyes. I remember feeling so honored; so shocked. Her story changed the way I thought. Her story doubled my preexisting appreciation for her. In today’s society, people generally lack basic social skills, especially empathy. We struggle with the temptation to revert to norms we believe are right, or a framework we’re comfortable with. When consoling me, Shenia steps out of her own perspective and into mine. It makes me feel seen and heard, a challenging feeling to mirror. We live in an environment where mental health is not prioritized. Social media, isolation, and general societal battles have blinded us to the importance of simply caring for one another. When I’m down, Shenia just wants to make me happy, not fix me. That’s what caring looks like. That’s what empathy is. I am now a person who sees the world as wider, more open, and happier. Receiving the Robert W. Woodruff War Eagle Spirit Award, I was recognized by renowned faculty at my high school for best exemplifying the energy of the human spirit. I treasure recognition like this because it further affirms that I am my bonus mom’s child, and that we as a society can work to follow the golden rule. A simple rule we often walk past. I’m so grateful to Shenia, a woman who continues to display the qualities of a great person. Empathy isn’t just a concept you study; it’s a language you learn and adapt to. Shenia’s convinced me she created the dialect of empathy. A language that I too aspire to be fluent in.

“Ouch,” I squealed, though my cry was barely heard over the commotion from the rowdy elementary school students. I’d been smacked so hard, I could feel the pulse of my classmate's hand land on my neck. It stung. It hurt. It even burned a little. “There’s a huge fly on your neck,” my classmate screamed. Rushing to get the pest off me, I harshly rubbed my neck up and down. Anxiety filled my chest when it wouldn’t seem to come off. I scraped and scraped, but still, it wouldn’t budge. What my peers thought was a fly, I discovered, was a mole. A useless, dark black bump that protrudes from the back of my neck. It’s big and ugly, sitting squarely in the center of my neck. Before that day, it was just another part of my skin. Afterward, it became the first thing I thought of in the mornings. I became even more conscious of the mole as I grew older, and it grew larger. The two mirrors in my bathroom let me see every angle of my body and zoom in directly on my neck. I started wearing my hair in styles that reached my shoulders deliberately. From time to time, I’d even add extensions to make it cover the “bug” resting on my neck. When someone raised their arms to hug me, I’d be extra cautious. And I dreaded windy days, as each gust threatened to lift the curtain of hair I perfectly arranged to cover my neck. In my first year of high school, I was finally determined to overcome my insecurity. The heat around August in Atlanta is hard to handle, and even more difficult when there’s a mane of hair you’re attempting to manage. I decided I’d give an up-do a try. A curly bun, with my natural hair, leaving a few curly pieces to hang in the front. The entire drive to school, I fought the urge to reach behind my neck and make sure nothing was showing. Once I arrived, every laugh behind me felt directed towards me. Every glance made me wonder if someone had noticed. Instead, the first thing I heard was, "Your hair looks so pretty today." Another friend asked if I had done it myself. My math teacher even told me she noticed something new. Not one person mentioned the mole I'd spent years hiding. As a society, we spend so much time thinking about little things. Small things that are noticeable to you, but invisible to someone else. Flaws in your mind that are perfection to your peers. Negative personal opinions that circle your mind, that your neighbor is itching to give you a compliment about. I still flinch when someone unexpectedly reaches toward my neck. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit. But I no longer rearrange my hair before leaving the house, nor do I wonder who might notice what's already been there all along. My mole hasn't changed much. I have. My “awkward” mole is a beautiful part of me. It sticks out to some, and is unnoticeable to others. When I glance at my neck in the mirror, I smile and remind myself how unique it is. I will continue to constantly instill confidence in myself and my peers, remembering that the things that make us stand out make us complete.

As my father's first and only biological child, I cherished every moment we shared. Every other weekend, he braved the thirty-minute drive south to pick me up from my mother’s house. He packed our short three days with games that, at the time, seemed boring but were unknowingly beneficial. On Friday nights, you’d likely find us battling multiplication flashcards on the living room sofa. On Saturday mornings, we worked on division, and, luckily for me, on Sundays we’d play board games. Monopoly was high on my list of preferred pastimes, followed by Connect Four and Jumbo Jenga. I quickly learned these games were all about strategy, and my ego soared whenever I beat my dad. Still, under his watch, playtime always transitioned into a classroom. Somehow, he even managed to drain the fun from my favorite game: Bingo. He replaced the small red dots placed on each 5x5 square with copper and silver coins. He explained the value of each one–pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters–expressing how much freedom money brought. There struck the beginning of my commitment to financial literacy and to access to financial education that most young people never receive. The older I got, the more serious our games became. Instead of playing printable bingo cards, we began creating budgeting spreadsheets and started discussing the importance of smart spending. Inspired by his entrepreneurial mindset, I launched my own floral business, Thyme to Bloom. Since then, I’ve served more than 130 customers while learning firsthand how to budget expenses, earn a profit, save consistently, and reinvest in my business. Every bouquet I sell further reinforces the financial principles my father introduced with a simple Bingo board. Yet, I realize not every young person grows up with someone who turns their favorite board game into a valuable lesson. I believe financial education should begin long before adulthood, when teenagers are young and impressionable. Rather than limiting financial literacy to a single course, I believe schools should weave practical money management into daily learning. By pursuing a business degree with a concentration in finance alongside a journalism minor, I will dismantle the barriers surrounding financial education for my generation. Thus far, I have led workshops for Girls of Affluence, an educational social club to teach young girls financial literacy. Additionally, I host financial literacy meetings as President of the Legal Studies Club at my school, in collaboration with various tax organizations across Georgia. I will continue to empower students to confidently build their own paths to financial independence. When young students are equipped with economic knowledge, they are motivated to achieve greater independence. As my small business continues to flourish, I will spread awareness about what it means to be financially savvy as a business owner. Wanting to build on my knowledge, I earned six college credits over the summer by completing Business Money 101 and Marketing 202 at the University of Miami. Here, I further strengthened my understanding of investing, marketing, and entrepreneurship. Understanding the importance of money management is crucial, but this discipline yields a far greater return than currency itself. I want my peers to know it’s never too early to start. Whether you’re quietly cultivating healthy financial habits, starting your own business, or playing not-so-fun board games with a parent, financial independence is powerful. I will continue my father’s legacy of not just reflecting on financial literacy as it is, but of teaching financial literacy the way it will be for future generations.

There are some things I couldn't imagine life without. Some major contenders are coffee and music, but if something had to steal the show, it would be faith. A faith that can trample over all rejection and fears. A faith that is insurmountable. A faith that enables, motivates, and transforms. When I began my blog, Unshakable Seeds, I almost talked myself out of publishing it. I worried that no one would read my words or that I wasn't quite experienced enough to talk about faith. However, I learned how to mask those thoughts with a prayer. I kept praying, even when I felt uncertain or fearful. In many ways, faith was the quiet force that kept my fingers typing. It became my secret ingredient in a devotional, the extra pat on the back before my fingers clicked "publish," and the silent strength that held me together when everything else felt uncertain. Though I was ecstatic about my first publication, anxiety still lingered. After continuously refreshing the page for hours, I received my first comment: "This brought me to tears!" I remember shouting with relief and excitement. To the anonymous reader, I appeared driven and calm, yet I was still figuring out my place as a writer. Looking back now, I realize that faith was quietly at work in the moments I felt inadequate. It gave me the confidence I didn't always feel I had to lead others. "If God is for us, who can be against us?" Romans 8:31 I find myself setting out my outfit each night before school, though my uniform doesn't change. My tendency to plan brings a batch of concerns. Am I making the right choices? Will everything go according to plan? 
I would be lying if I said these questions never crossed my mind. However, my answer to them has remained the same. Just remain faithful. Strangely, I place so much confidence in my future, even though the future can be the most uncertain thing. After all, no one truly knows what the future holds, but that is exactly what faith does. It makes the unexplainable understandable. It makes the unspoken heard. It causes me to see what is not yet there. If I'm ever faced with uncertainties and worries, I think about the only guaranteed constant in my life: faith. As my career continues as a journalist, faith blogger, and entrepreneur, I will remain faithful in the fact that God sees it all. His eyes, His ears, and His promises are unshakable: "The Lord will rescue his servants; no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned." Psalms 34:22 My faith is truly unwavering, and sometimes I don't even understand it myself. When people ask me, "Addi, how do you keep smiling?", my answer is always faith. Faith is at the core of everything I do and believe. It has shaped every chapter of my life. From the anxious thoughts before my first blog post to the moments when others began asking me for advice in their walk with Christ. My faith teaches me to serve the unseen, persevere through trials, and lead with compassion. For I know the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous. He's listening and watching over me, His faithful writer, at all times.