Overcoming adversity not only shapes our character but also clarifies our purpose. My journey through personal trauma, academic challenges, and a deep-seated desire for justice has profoundly prepared me to enter the criminal justice realm with a unique perspective, especially in serving victims of assault. The adversity I encountered was not merely an obstacle but a catalyst that propelled me toward a career aimed at transforming the criminal justice system to better support and empower survivors. My experience with sexual assault during my time at Pepperdine University was a crucible that tested my resilience, beliefs, and sense of self. Rather than allowing this experience to define me, I chose to channel the pain and confusion into a force for positive change. Delving into the philosophy of ethics and justice as a major, and engaging with the special undergraduate program for conflict mediation and dispute resolution at the Straus Institute, I equipped myself with the theoretical knowledge and practical skills necessary to approach issues of justice with empathy, insight, and innovation. The pivotal moment in my journey was the class on restorative justice, where I explored alternative models of resolving conflicts that emphasize healing and reconciliation over retribution. Drawing on my personal ordeal, I crafted a proposal advocating for the adoption of the restorative justice model in handling instances of sexual assault on college campuses. This not only earned me the highest grade and the CALI award but also solidified my commitment to pursuing a legal career focused on reimagining how the criminal justice system addresses such crimes. This experience, combined with my academic achievements, has prepared me to enter the criminal justice realm with a fresh perspective on how to serve victims more effectively. I've learned the importance of listening to survivors, understanding the nuanced impacts of trauma, and advocating for approaches that prioritize their healing and empowerment. As I move forward to Hofstra Law School, backed by a large scholarship in recognition of my potential, I am determined to use my legal education to champion these values. My career goals are centered on leveraging the law as a tool for change, specifically in the realm of criminal justice where the needs of victims are often overshadowed by procedural formalities and punitive impulses. I aspire to become an advocate for women who have suffered from assault, ensuring that their voices are heard, their rights protected, and their paths to recovery supported. By integrating the principles of restorative justice into the legal process, I aim to contribute to a more compassionate, effective, and holistic approach to criminal justice—one that recognizes the dignity of every individual and seeks to restore what has been broken. In essence, my experience overcoming adversity has not only prepared me for the challenges of the criminal justice realm but has also instilled in me a profound commitment to serve victims with compassion, advocacy, and an unwavering belief in the possibility of healing and justice. My career goals are a reflection of this commitment, and I plan to make a difference by redefining how justice is sought, experienced, and achieved for those who have been wronged. Through dedication, empathy, and a relentless pursuit of fairness, I aim to contribute to a more just and understanding world.

My desire to practice law is rooted in a deep-seated commitment to justice, empowerment, and the transformative power of advocacy. This calling is not born out of a vacuum but is the culmination of my personal journey, academic pursuits, and the profound experiences that have shaped my understanding of justice and healing. As a senior philosophy major at Pepperdine University, my academic journey has been enriched by a rigorous exploration of ethics, human rights, and the philosophies that underpin our legal systems. Yet, it is my personal experience with sexual assault and the journey toward healing that has crystallized my resolve to practice law. The cornerstone of my desire to enter the legal profession is the belief that the law, when wielded with empathy and insight, can be an instrument of profound change. My engagement with the Straus Institute’s program in conflict mediation and dispute resolution at Pepperdine's Caruso School of Law has been transformative. It exposed me to the principles of restorative justice, an approach that emphasizes healing for victims, accountability for offenders, and the repair of communal bonds over punitive measures. This experience, especially in the context of sexual assault on college campuses, has shown me the limitations of our current legal frameworks and the potential for more compassionate, effective resolutions. Drawing from my harrowing ordeal with sexual assault, I have a deeply personal stake in the quest for justice. The incident was not just a violation of my physical autonomy but an affront to my dignity and sense of safety. The traditional punitive model of justice often leaves survivors feeling marginalized and voiceless, exacerbating the trauma. My proposal advocating for the application of restorative justice in instances of sexual assault in colleges is a testament to my belief in the need for a legal system that centers the voices and healing of survivors. This work earned me the highest grade in my class and the CALI award, affirming my potential to make meaningful contributions to the field of law. The accolades and recognition, while humbling, are not the end goal but rather milestones on a path to a larger vision. My acceptance into Hofstra Law School on a large scholarship is not just an acknowledgment of past achievements but an opportunity to hone my skills, deepen my understanding of the law, and prepare myself for the challenges of legal advocacy. My aim is to specialize in legal practices that empower women who have experienced assault, ensuring that their voices are heard, their dignity upheld, and their paths to healing supported. My decision to practice law is fueled by a conviction that legal advocacy can and should be a force for good. I envision a career where I can challenge the status quo, push for innovative solutions that prioritize healing and justice, and advocate for those whose stories have been sidelined. The law, in my view, is more than a set of rules; it is a living, breathing entity that shapes our society and our interactions with one another. As a lawyer, I intend to use this powerful tool to advocate for change, support survivors of assault, and contribute to the creation of a more just and compassionate world. In essence, my drive to practice law is deeply personal, academically informed, and mission-driven. It is about harnessing my experiences, education, and the power of the law to make a tangible difference in the lives of individuals and communities. Through advocacy, empathy, and a commitment to justice, I aim to contribute to a legal landscape that not only addresses harm but fosters healing and empowerment for all.

Embarking on a journey that merges personal passion with professional ambition, I stand at a pivotal juncture in my life. As a senior philosophy major at Pepperdine University, my academic endeavors have been deeply intertwined with a commitment to understanding the nuances of human behavior, ethics, and justice. My journey, however, is not solely academic; it is also profoundly personal and shaped by experiences that have forged my resolve to contribute positively to the world. One of the defining moments of my undergraduate career was my engagement with the special undergraduate program for conflict mediation and dispute resolution through the Straus Institute at Pepperdine's Caruso School of Law. This program, renowned for its emphasis on resolving disputes through understanding and mediation, introduced me to the transformative potential of restorative justice. My immersion in this field was not just an academic exercise; it was a personal exploration of how justice can be reimagined and enacted in ways that foster healing and reconciliation. The class on restorative justice was a turning point. It was here that I delved into the theory and practice of resolving conflicts not through punitive measures, but through processes that seek to repair harm and rebuild relationships. This approach resonated with me deeply, particularly in the context of sexual assault on college campuses—a reality I know all too intimately. Drawing from my own harrowing experience of sexual assault at the university, I authored a proposal advocating for the adoption of the restorative justice model in addressing instances of sexual assault within colleges. This work was not just an academic exercise; it was a personal testament to the potential for healing and justice in the face of profound trauma. My efforts were recognized with the highest grade in the class, as well as the prestigious CALI award, which underscores my potential for a promising career in law. This recognition, however, is not merely a personal achievement; it is a reaffirmation of my commitment to use my career as a force for positive change. As I prepare to embark on the next phase of my journey at Hofstra Law School, where I have been granted a full scholarship in recognition of my academic excellence, my vision for my career is clear. I am determined to use my legal education and professional platform to advocate for women who have been impacted by assault. My goal is not just to seek justice in the conventional sense but to work towards a more compassionate, restorative approach that acknowledges the complexity of trauma and seeks to empower survivors. My philosophy background, combined with my specialized training in conflict mediation and restorative justice, equips me with a unique perspective on the law. I see law not merely as a set of rules to be enforced but as a dynamic tool for social change, capable of transforming lives and communities. As I step into the legal arena, my mission is to advocate for approaches that not only address the legal dimensions of assault but also foster healing, resilience, and empowerment for survivors. In this journey, I am driven by a belief in the power of empathy, the importance of community, and the transformative potential of justice that heals. Through my career, I aspire to contribute to a world where the law serves as a bridge to understanding, healing, and ultimately, a more just and compassionate society.

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn is a novel by Betty Smith that tells the story of a young girl growing up in poverty in Brooklyn in the early 20th century. This book has had a profound impact on my life, reminding me of the stories my grandmother tells about growing up in Williamsburg and helping me to have a deeper appreciation for my roots. Growing up, my grandmother would often tell me stories about her childhood in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. She would tell me about the tenement buildings she lived in, the pushcarts that lined the streets, and the games she played with her friends. These stories always fascinated me, but I never truly appreciated their significance until I read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. As I read the book, I found myself transported to a different time and place. I could almost smell the fresh bread baking in the ovens and hear the sound of the street vendors calling out their wares. I felt a deep connection to the characters in the book, especially the protagonist, Francie, who reminded me of my grandmother in so many ways. Reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn helped me to understand the struggles and hardships that my grandmother and her family must have faced. It gave me a new perspective on the challenges that immigrants and working-class families have to overcome to make a better life for themselves and their children. I realized that the life I had been given was not just the result of my own efforts, but was built upon the hard work and sacrifices of those who came before me. The book also helped me to appreciate the simple pleasures in life. Francie finds joy in the small things, like reading a book in the library or picking berries in the park. Her ability to find beauty and wonder in the world around her, despite her difficult circumstances, was truly inspiring. A Tree Grows In Brooklyn taught me the value of hard work, perseverance, and resilience. Francie's mother, Katie, works tirelessly to provide for her family, taking on multiple jobs and scrimping and saving every penny. Her father, Johnny, struggles with alcoholism but ultimately finds redemption through his love for his family. These characters taught me that even in the face of adversity, one can find the strength to keep going and overcome obstacles. Finally, reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn helped me to have a deeper appreciation for my roots. It reminded me of the importance of family, community, and tradition. It made me realize that the stories and experiences of my ancestors are an essential part of who I am, and that I should honor and cherish them. In conclusion, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn has had a profound impact on my life. It has helped me to understand and appreciate the struggles and hardships faced by my grandmother and her family, and has given me a deeper appreciation for my roots. It has taught me the value of hard work, perseverance, and resilience, and has reminded me of the importance of family, community, and tradition. Reading this book was a transformative experience that has left a lasting impression on me, and I am grateful for the lessons it has taught me.

The Tao Te Ching is an ancient Chinese text that has been translated into numerous languages and studied by people from all walks of life for over two thousand years. Its teachings are relevant to individuals, societies, and governments across the globe, making it a must-read for everyone. One of the central themes of the Tao Te Ching is the concept of Tao, which means the way or path. The text teaches that individuals can achieve a harmonious and balanced life by following the path of Tao, which involves living in accordance with nature, cultivating humility, and avoiding extremes. This philosophy can benefit people of all cultures and beliefs, as it promotes a sense of interconnectedness and respect for the natural world. Moreover, the Tao Te Ching encourages self-reflection and introspection, which can help individuals gain a deeper understanding of themselves and their place in the world. By contemplating the teachings of the text, readers can develop greater self-awareness and a more profound appreciation for life. The Tao Te Ching also offers valuable insights into leadership and governance. It teaches that effective leaders should lead by example, be humble, and avoid excessive control. Such principles are applicable to all types of leadership, whether it is in a family, a community, or a nation. Finally, the Tao Te Ching is a work of great literary and philosophical value. Its poetic language and profound wisdom have inspired countless artists, writers, and thinkers over the centuries. Reading the text can be a transformative experience that opens the mind to new ideas and perspectives. In summary, the Tao Te Ching is a timeless masterpiece that offers wisdom and guidance to people of all backgrounds and walks of life. Its teachings are relevant and applicable to contemporary society and can help individuals achieve greater balance, understanding, and fulfillment in life. Therefore, everyone should read the Tao Te Ching to benefit from its profound insights and timeless wisdom.

I loved life until I was eight. Things were great at the small parochial school I attended with my three siblings. I was best friends with everyone in my third grade class and enjoyed jumping rope and reading my favorite book, Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary. That summer, my parents got divorced. This was awfully confusing to me since I barely knew what divorce was. There was only one other single parent family in my whole school, which made sense since divorce was severely looked down upon in this conservative, Catholic school. I started the fourth grade and things were not the same anymore. I went from being outgoing and friendly to reserved and shy, and no one really understood why. I got myself into trouble quite often and would sometimes act out in class. It didn’t help that my now-single mom could not afford the tuition and that I might have to leave the school. Somehow, she made it work. I really don’t know how but she did. She took a job at a local retail shop and worked there day and night to keep my siblings and I in school. She did it all on my own with no help from my dad. It was important to my mom that her children received a good education, which is why she fought tooth and nail to keep us at one of the best elementary schools in the area. The last day of school was always a miserable one for me, because I never knew if I would be returning the following year. I was always worried about money, and the thought of having to leave my school loomed over my head from the time I was eight all the way up until I graduated high school. I always made sure to make the most of my top tier education, since I was not sure how much longer I would have it. This anxiety drove me to work as hard as I could. I wanted my mom to know that her sacrifice was worth it, but more importantly I wanted to get a good education so I could take care of her when the time came. She gave everything she had to me so it is only fair that I honor her gift to me. I am currently in my second year of college at Pepperdine University, and I hope to go to law school after I graduate here. It is my deepest desire to become a family lawyer so I can advocate for children who are caught in the middle of their parents’ divorces. I want no child to have to go through what I did, and I feel called to make a change in our very broken justice system that damages families every day. Even though coming from a singe-parent home made my childhood a little bit challenging, I am glad that it planted a seed for change in me.

When I was a kid I never thought school was that big of a deal. Sure, I was a good student and yes, I always had my homework done before going outside to play with my friends, but to me school was more of a social event than it was a place to learn. It wasn't until my family was forced to fight tooth and nail to keep me there that I learned just how crucial receiving a good education actually was. Through some circumstances that are hard to explain, my mom became a single parent to my three siblings and I. We went from being a comfortable middle-class family that never had a single financial worry to one that was unsure where the next dollar was coming from. With that, it simply did not make sense for my mom to keep us in parochial school. It was expensive, and the funds were nonexistent. The other option, which was the public school in the severely underperforming district where we lived, was not much better. Neither of my parents went to college, so it was important to my mom that her four kids received a good education from the start. That is why she made the choice to send us to parochial school in the first place. While she could have alleviated a major financial burden for herself, she made the choice to keep us in the school we had been attending rather then pulling us out and sending us to a place where the quality of education was poor. At that point, she was battling a gruesome divorce and was not receiving any additional support from my father. Legal fees were stacking up way faster than her minimum wage job could keep up with. I don't know how, but she made it work. What the school's financial aid did not cover, she scraped up through whatever means and managed to keep us where we were. Looking back all these years later, I understand why she did it. I am glad to say that I am a very successful student with a 3.8 GPA at a top 50 university. I do not think it would have been possible if not for the firm foundation I was fortunate enough to have as a child. While I have made many good friends at college, I know the real reason I am there is to get an education and make my mom proud.

I don't think anyone enjoys doing laundry, and for awhile, neither did I. But then I got to college, and my weekly trip to the community washing machine in the residence hall was something that I actually looked forward to. The summer before I was set to go off to college, I wondered how I was going to fare all on my own. University students have so many responsibilities like managing a part time job, doing their own weekly shopping, and juggling a social life. Not to mention they are university students! Studying hard and getting good grades is why they attend school in the first place. I dreaded going off to some distant, unknown place where I would have to do all of things that my parents once done for me for free. Yet, when I got to college, these redundant chores that I was supposed to dread became somewhat of a comfort to me. My predictions about college life were accurate, and I was not surprised to learn that college students are very busy. Between studying and social outings, and remembering to get enough sleep and eat meals, I never got a break. Except for once a week when I would do my laundry. After dinner, usually on a Thursday or Friday, I'd drag my hamper down a flight of stairs and through a hallway that would take me to a slipshod closet that boasted a whopping two dryers and a single washer. An empty washing machine in Crocker Hall was a rare occurrence, but I never had this problem. I suppose it was because no one bothered to do laundry on the nights where being social was their priority. I, however, took advantage of this valuable time slot and spent it laundering my clothes from the week in addition to my towels and sheets. Something about separating the lights from the darks, then throwing them in the washing machine, moving the clothes to the dryer, and folding the clean ones felt comforting to me. When I was doing laundry, all I had to think about was doing laundry. I was grateful to have a break from class and homework. I even enjoyed time I was able to spend with just me, myself, and I. What was really appealing to me about doing the laundry, though, was the opportunity it provided me to clear me head. There are few moments throughout the day where you can sit around and think for awhile, which is something that is very necessary for a healthy mind. The repetitive, predictable motions of doing the laundry occupy your body, but they leave your mind free to wander. To anyone who struggles with mental health, I would implore you to find a task that you already do on a regular basis and use it as a dedicated mind clearing time. Doing laundry worked wonders for me, but you can take any activity, like your daily morning jog for example, and give it a dual purpose. If you are a busy college student like me, I am here to tell you that you have the ability to make your mental health a priority, and you don't even have to take time away from your packed schedule to do it!

Breathe in, breathe out: the cure-all panacea that will relieve all of your worries and anxieties. Who are we kidding? It does not work. I have suffered with Generalized Anxiety Disorder since I was seven and I am sick of my parents, teachers, and even mental health professionals telling me to breathe. Instructing me to do so invalidates my overwhelming anxieties and ignores their underlying causes. What I need is to talk through it with someone who gets it, so that I can get a clearer understanding of how I arrived to those feelings in the first place. People who are struggling with mental health challenges need the support of a therapist or another individual who can help them sort out their feelings and explain why they are feeling them. Only then can you take real steps to begin fixing the problem. For me, coping with my anxiety requires me to put myself into a more rational headspace where I can separate the facts from the feelings. I personally experience misplaced emotions and I need to look at the evidence to help steer my feelings. It does not come naturally for me. This strategy only works because I have taken the time to talk through my condition with someone I trust. This allowed me to pinpoint exactly what I was dealing with and what specifically needed to be worked on. The next time you want to tell someone struggling with anxiety or any overwhelming emotion to "breathe," think twice. Mental illness cannot be cured with a few deep breaths.

The breakdown of the family unit is singlehandedly the biggest problem facing the world today. Children being brought up in homes that lack the solid foundation that a family provides prevents them from excelling to their fullest potential. My father left when I was seven years old. For a while, I did not believe that I needed a second parent. I thought I was faring just fine with the family I already had. My mother is one of the strongest people I know, and besides, having my grandparents living in the house provided two extra people I could lean on for support. My three siblings and I were on the way to being successful despite not having a father around. There was one problem though. Around the same time my father left the home, I started struggling with anxiety. I always wondered where my dad was, what he was doing, and curious to know whether he still loved me or not. These feelings fostered tremendous worry for me, and eventually I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. What if my parents stayed married? What if my father made an effort to stay in touch with me? Would the outcome of my situation be different? Would I still suffer with severe anxiety? Looking back on my childhood, I am aware of one simple truth: children need to be loved. It was not the fact that my father did not live in the home, it was that I lacked the love I needed from him. It does not matter what the family unit looks like: two moms, two dads, one mom, one dad. Something that relatively reflects a family and can foster love for a child is what they need to thrive.

1. Well actually I don't deserve this scholarship. I have a decent GPA, I am in a few clubs and overall I think I am a pretty likable person, but there is nothing that special about me that would warrant being awarded a scholarship like this. I am a normal student, just like other normal students. 2. I have no specific career goals but I do not think that is a bad thing. I am in college right now studying philosophy, and at this point in my life I believe it is more important to be open minded and accept whatever opportunities come my way rather than to restrict myself to a singular vision for my future that may keep me from pursuing all the available options. 3. I was seven years old when my parents got divorced, and from that time on I have struggled with severe anxiety. For most of my adolescence, I thought that the feelings I was experiencing were normal and I had no idea that there was a problem. In December of 2021 I admitted to myself that I needed help. I received treatment and was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Asking for help was the hardest thing I have ever done.

Something doesn’t come from nothing. As a human being, I can’t just blink an apple into existence when I am feeling hungry, or wish hard enough for a decent grade on my next math exam. It goes without saying that a good math grade is impossible without studying first, and that my hunger will only be satisfied when I get up off the couch a grab a myself a snack. Why, then, do we treat the universe any different? Obviously, something doesn’t come from nothing, so why are we so comfortable attributing the creation of the universe to - nothing? The Big Bang Theory is one that is widely accepted and known to most to be true. It provides a reasonable explanation as to how the universe came to be. But even still, it doesn’t answer the question: How did something come about from nothing? The truth is, this question cannot be answered through science alone. And frankly, it was never a question the Big Bang Theory ever meant to explore in the first place. The theory’s pioneer, Georges Lemaître, was a Catholic Priest who never intended to invalidate the existence of a God by proposing such an idea. Rather, he aimed to explore the very vehicle by which God constructed this universe. He acknowledged that something had to have come from something else first; he merely exposed the means by which that something created something else. It is clear that the origins of the universe cannot be explained through science alone, but is it possible to expound this earthy phenomenon solely on faith? The story of creation found in Genesis provides a considerable amount of insight into the nature of the human being and how he progressed over time, but it lacks an explanation for the channel by which he was created. We know that God spoke the earth into existence, but Genesis never gives an explanation as to how he managed to do that. The Big Bang Theory, however, fills in these gaps; therefore, the question of the universe’s being cannot be answered through faith alone. The question of how the universe came to be is obviously a tricky one to uncover. It can be so puzzling that many don’t even consider it worthy of exploration or deeper examination at all. Rather, most are comfortable accepting that something comes from nothing while simultaneously being conscious that nothing ever comes from nothing. When we marry spirituality with science, however, questions like this one that seem almost impossible to answer start to make more sense. It is only when these two disciplines exist in unison that we can uncover the truth about the world we live in.

“How do you get to Dunkin’ Donuts?”, Mrs. B, my elementary computer lab teacher, asked the class. One student excitedly exclaimed: “All you have to do is walk to the end of Clinton Avenue and there it is!”. Another student interjected: “But you can also cut through the school yard and take the back way. It’s much quicker!”. “But class, which way is the right way to get there?”, Mrs. B questioned her students. My classmates and I sat there confused, contemplating which way was in fact the “right” way. Mrs. B went on to explain that in actuality, there is no right way to get to Dunkin’ Donuts. So long as you get there, both ways are correct. At the time, I couldn’t identify the wisdom is such words, or even understand why she made the point she did. “Awesome, now I know of two ways to get to Dunkin’ Donuts”, I thought. But in time, I began to fathom just how wise her words truly were. In retrospect, it is obvious that Mrs. B’s Dunkin’ Donuts lecture was just an enraged commentary directed at New York State’s common core math curriculum, which was notorious forcing students to memorize millions of ways to practice long division and other seemingly simple arithmetic procedures. Despite her views on math politics, though, she was right. It didn’t matter how you got to Dunkin’ Donuts, or which way you chose to complete your math homework. Everyone is different, and therefore the way they approach problems will also differ. In the final analysis, what matters most is that the end goal is achieved

Life moves pretty fast. But when it slows down, or comes to a complete stop all together, it wouldn’t be surprising to feel purposeless or lacking direction. These are the feelings I found myself coping with during the pandemic, and honestly, I wasn’t sure what I could do to keep a positive attitude in the midst of such stagnant times. To keep myself occupied, I began making postcards to send to family and friends. It was fulfilling to receive phone calls and text messages from them explaining how the small gesture brightened their day. That’s when I decided to take this small hobby a step further. Instead of just family and friends, I began making postcards for the residents at my local nursing home and assisted living facility. At first, I did it mostly for me, as I didn’t exactly realize the impact that a small message could have. That was until the residents began replying to the cards I sent, and with such positive feedback! I came to understand that we as humans already have a built in support system: each other. When we share our experience and let others into our struggles we begin to feel less alone. As isolating as the pandemic could be, it taught me a valuable lesson about humanity: that we have an essential duty to serve each other, so that we can seek solidarity in our common hardships, and in turn, find healing and comfort.

I can recall the very first time I had heard the word "abortion": I was in the fifth grade and the teacher had asked the class if anyone had heard that term before. Of course I hadn't, and all but one student had even the slightest idea of what it could possibly mean. I remember not so much feeling upset or sad, but more confused by the teacher's explanation. Cogently and forward, the teacher had bluntly stated to our fifth grade class that abortion was when a child was killed while it was still growing inside the mother's belly. Frankly, such an explanation left young, ten year old me with more questions than answers. That didn't matter much to me, however, because if abortion was as heinous and brutal as the teacher had painted it to be, I didn't care to know much more about it. It wasn't until I was in middle school, however, when I finally began to understand what the pro-life movement was and how it pertained to abortion. In the eighth grade, I had met a little boy named Tyler who was in the Kindergarten class at my parochial school. He was such a spirited and energetic young child that you'd never be able to tell the circumstances behind his being just by looking at him. Tyler's mother Katie had been burdened by an unplanned pregnancy when she was only nineteen years old. Like most other young expectant mothers, Katie felt trapped and unsure what to do. She strongly considered abortion, but opted to keep her child when her family and church community rallied around her to offer their support. When I learned this information, I was absolutely shocked. I couldn't help but to think what that Kindergarten class would be like had Tyler not been in it. The thought of an empty chair in his classroom haunted me, and I began to wonder just how many other empty chairs existed in Kindergarten classrooms all over. I wondered just how many children didn't make it to Kindergarten at all. As I entered high school, Tyler's story stuck with me, but I was hesitant to outwardly identify as "Pro-Life". Despite the social backlash, I joined the Respect Life Ministry at school where I was given the opportunity to travel to Washington D.C to participate in the annual March For Life. At the rally, I was deeply moved by Pam Tebow's testimony about her encounter with abortion. She was told that the child she was carrying could potentially impact her health, and that she should terminate her pregnancy. The doctors went as far as to liken her developing fetus to a tumor that had to be removed. In spite of what she was told, Pam birthed her child anyway, gifting the world with the football legend we know as Tim Tebow. Today, as I sit here writing this testimony, I can't help but wonder just how many Tyler's and Tim's this world has lost due to abortion. It is stories like theirs that have brought me to the conclusion that there is dignity and value in every single human life, and that all people have the potential to bring something positive to this earth. Now, I can confidently and proudly say that I am pro-life.

"Keep Smiling" was Brother James McVeigh's famous catchphrase that he would remark following every conversation he had with a student, friend, teacher, or really anyone for that matter. It never occurred to me just how impactful those two simple words could be; I suppose I was just so accustomed to hearing them that the phrase flew right over my head at times. But when Brother James passed away in February 2021, it morphed into a message of positivity and peace, one that I knew would allow his legacy to live on forever. Moreover, it fostered my desire to cultivate positivity in this world and give my community a reason to "keep smiling". I had first met Brother James in September 2019 when I transferred to a new high school. The transition proved to be very difficult for me: The foreign environment frightened me, and it seemed nearly impossible to make friends. I found much needed support and comfort in Brother James, one of the resident monks at the school. He served as a mentor to me during that troubling time, but our relationship was so much greater than that. He was a friend above all else, who was always keen to offer kind words and advice, hence his popular phrase "keep smiling". I didn't see it then, but it was in part those two words that got me through that rough patch in my high school life. When Brother passed, I was distraught by feelings of grief and despair. The words "keep smiling" didn't seem to make sense to me anymore. "How could I possibly manage to get through this, and with a smile on my face much less!?", I thought to myself. In spite of the pain, however, I knew it was my mission to keep his positive message alive: It had gotten me through tough times already, and it could get me through this too. In the weeks following, I pioneered an effort called "Project Peacemaker Post-Its". My mission's goal was to engage classmates and the school community at large in promoting peace and positivity like Brother James had by exchanging kind and encouraging notes with each other. A few classmates and I erected a large and picturesque wall display comprised of positive post it notes in one of the busiest hallways in the school, where students and teachers were encouraged to take notes as well as post ones of their own. It was incredibly refreshing to witness my school community in good spirits despite the not-so-great circumstances. Although saddened by the passing of a dear friend, I found that there is always something to smile about. Project Peacemaker Post-Its is only one example of a small-scale effort to bring about change in this world, but that doesn't discount the profound impact it had on my local community. Taking part in this effort taught me that change is always possible and that there is always something that can be done to make it happen. Even in the most negative and despairing of times, there is always a reason to keep smiling.

“Jesus himself drew near, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” If these words seem familiar to you, then perhaps you’ve read the “Road to Emmaus” before. If not, that’s okay too; you don’t need to be a biblical scholar to understand what they mean. But the reason why I mention the passage is because I think it raises an interesting question. Have you ever encountered Jesus in the face of a stranger? This is a story about the time I unknowingly saw Jesus in, who I believed to be, the most unlikely of people. When I was in the seventh grade, I met a girl named Christine. She had attended my Catholic elementary school, and we would sometimes see each other at mass on Sundays, but it wasn’t until her Kindergarten year that we formed a meaningful bond. Her teacher had asked myself and a few of my classmates to assist with the younger students at lunch time, so I had found myself spending a lot of time with her class. She was just like any other girl her age, but her rambunctious personality and sassy attitude made her stand out. We were so similar that right off the bat, we got along. We talked about everything together, but never seemed to run out of things to say. I wouldn’t have thought that one of our lunch time chats would lead my heart into a conversion with Christ, until it actually did. Christine was swinging on the monkey bars when I asked if she was excited about the upcoming Father Daughter dance at school. With a grim expression, she told me that she wasn’t going. Naturally, the next question I asked was “Why?” “My daddy lives far away. He would have to take a plane to get here,” she said. I sat back while she explained that she had never met her father in person and the little she does know of him comes from the few phone calls that they’ve had. She was more like me than I cared for her to be. I also grew up without my father around. I know that pain too well. How could I let another child suffer in the way I did? I couldn’t. I asked: “Christine, would you like to go to the dance with me?” My concern for Christine stemmed from my own experiences growing up. I was just a little older than her when my father had left the home. My whole childhood, I had struggled to find my identity. I remember going to therapy and being asked what I would like to change about my dad. I responded with the same word every time: “nothing.” “Nothing” because I thought I didn’t need a dad. But that’s not true. Everyone needs a father in their life. When I saw Christine at that dance is when I discovered this truth. I looked into her eyes, and I didn’t see Christine anymore. I saw me. I was that little girl who so desperately wanted to be loved by her father. I thought that by taking Christine to the dance, I would prove to her that she didn’t need a dad. But I had seemed to prove the opposite. Not only did I see myself in Christine, but I also saw the living face of Christ. He showed himself to me in the only way that I would be able to understand him, and in him doing so, I experienced a conversion: I needed a father, and I always had. But I never understood that my Heavenly Father was the only father who truly mattered. I let go, allowing his healing power and redemptive grace to fill the holes. I finally accepted God as my father, both on earth and in heaven. And just like the disciples on the Road to Emmaus, my eyes were opened and I recognized him.