If I was asked 4 years ago If I believed in God, my response would have been hesitant. I was raised in a family that went to church every Sunday, prayed before every meal, and said bedtime prayers every night. However, one Sunday morning, my life was changed forever. I battled and I fought, how could God do this to me? Today, I have a very clear answer. Let me walk you through my story. It was a Sunday morning in April of 2017, I was eating breakfast at a friends house after a sleepover. In a blink of an eye, I was rushed home. "We are going to the hospital, dad was in a motorcycle accident," my sister said. At first I thought of bumps and scrapes. But this was not a bicycle he had taught me how to ride during my childhood, this was a car hitting a motorcycle and violating my fathers body. I will never forget the fear in my mothers eyes when the surgeon came out that night and said the most gut wrenching word I have ever heard in my life to this day: cancer. While doing surgery to release the pressure in his brain, a stage 3 cancerous brain tumor was found suffocating my dads life. The next 4 years of my life would consist of 12 year old me spending birthdays, christmases, and fathers day in a hospital. If you cannot imagine what this would do to a 12 year old, it is not good. Eventually, we ran out of money and my dad was sentenced to a hospital bed in the living room while fighting for his life doing chemo and radiation treatments. His body was weak and it was killing him. He decided to stop doing treatment. At this moment, I wanted to scream. How could the God my family worshipped do this to us? How could the God of love and miracles give my dad less than 3 years to live with an incurable brain cancer? The truth is, I don't know how God did it, but he is the God of miracles. My old pastor came to the side of his hospital bed with his bible and holy water. Together as a family, we sprinkled it over my dad and had a night of prayer. I cannot remember if my heart was truly present during that moment, my brain has blocked out a lot during that time, but what I do know, is that my dad got better. After every single doctor telling us a 3 year life expectancy, no walking, limited communication, and constant caregiving was to be expected, God laughed at them. During the last two years, I watched my dad go from using a walker, to a cane, to walking my sister down the aisle with minimal assistance at her wedding. I watch him do the laundry and play with our dog outside. I watch him yell at football games and try to scare me in the house even though I can always hear the creak of his cane from down the hallway. I watch him keep his faith strong and show me how to keep my faith strong, even when everything else is weak. So, do I believe in God? Yes. Without a doubt, God worked his miracle on my dad and held a firm grip of life and has not let him go. My dad should not have survive his cancer, statistics say it should have come back by now. However, my God says screw a statistic. He is the giver of life.

My name is Anna Monroe, I am currently a freshman at Wittenberg University in Springfield, Ohio. I am an Exercise Science and Pre-Occupational therapy major. In the world of fitness and doctorates degrees, men tend to dominate this field. In most of my classes, there are only a couple of women. However, I am not letting this stop me from pursuing a masters-doctorates degree in Occupational Therapy. Not only do I want to show women that they can follow their dreams in a male dominated environment, but I also want to show my future daughter that women can be strong and lead the same way that men do. To start off, I have always known I would be in the medical field. When I was 12 years old, my life got turned upside-down. I was at a sleepover with a good friend of mine, when in a blink of an eye her mom was rushing me to my house, where my sister then rushed me to Miami Valley Hospital. My dad was careflighted after a life threatening motorcycle accident. My dad was and still is my entire world. He is my protector, my leader, and my role model. After emergency surgery to remove pressure in his brain, the doctors told us the one word no family is prepared to hear: cancer. Stage 3 brain cancer violating my dads body. From that moment forward, my childhood would consist of the ICU being my second home. Instead of, "When is dad coming home from work?" I asked, "Will dad be home for Christmas?" "Will dad make it to my birthday?" "Is he going to die?" These are thoughts no child should ever have to ask at the young age of 12. Oncologist after Oncologist told us the chemo was killing him, that he would never walk again, that he would never even use the bathroom on his own for the rest of his life. However, his therapists looked at my dad and saw a fighter. After my dad was released from the hospital, he was sentenced to a hospital bed in our living room as we could not afford an inpatient rehab facility or the thousands of dollars of hospital medical bills. When he qualified for disability, we finally had the money for therapy. My dad worked with numerous occupational and physical therapists doing intense rehab. Over the last 6 years, I have watched him learn how to speak again. I watched him learn how to put his own socks on and find ways to use the bathroom independently. I watched him go from using a walker, to a cane, to walking my sister down the aisle at her wedding with minimal assistance. Now when we go to pool therapy, he can do more pull ups than me! My dads therapists saw a fighter. They changed his life, and my families. My situation has inspired me to do the same. Now, I am at Wittenberg University as an Exercise Science student learning how to help those with special circumstances like my dad. Not only is it making me stronger, but now I have the basic knowledge to help my dad get stronger too. I plan to change lives and show my rehab patients that no matter their diagnosis or situation, they have the strength and capabilities to rise. As a woman, I am eager to show my mental and physical strength in a male dominated field. Most of all, I know I am going to be a daughter who makes her father proud.

William J. Clinton once said, "Each generation must define what it means to be an American." This quote resonates with my generation completely. As I recently turned 18, I now have the privelege to freely educate myself and put my opinions to the votes. I finally have an opportunity to make a difference in my country. Though America has its faults, America is the home of the brave. First, I am incredibly proud that as a woman in America, I have complete access to education and free speech. In many countries, there are media and news restrictions that brain wash their people showing a one sided story on numerous occasions. Many people argue that there is an immense amount of violence, two party system conflicts, systemic racism, etc. Though I agree, I would also like to point out how proud I am that I am living in a country that allows myself and others to spread awareness and our opinions on these issues. The fact that I can make a post on social media at any time of day about our politics and not be punished is truly something to celebrate over. In relation to free speech, America has arguably the best land for education. Education is required. Every child regardless of race, sexuality, gender identity, disability, and financial class has the right to an equal education. This right is something to be incredibly proud of. Second, I am proud of Americans for being fighters. Our country has come such a long way. As a musical theatre nerd, Hamilton by Lin Manual Miranda paints such a beautiful picture on America's history. Men of all ages came together to fight an entire countries army and king for our independence. We were out gunned, outmanned, and out-resourced. Yet, here we are as Americans. No matter what our political divides may be, the fact that we have our own country that WE fought for is something to celebrate every single day. Women fought for voting rights. Martin Luther King fought for African American rights. Cesar Chavez fought for Hispanic rights. Our country is filled with fighters, and this simple fact is something that we need to remember as long as America stands. The final thing that makes me proud to be an American is that we are known for being a land of opportunity. In my small town, my family is close with many of our foreign restaurant owners. As I have gotten older, I have asked about their personal stories. For them, coming to America and receiving education, learning to speak English, and the opportunity to bring their culture and make it the foundation of their success is truly beautiful to me. I am so proud that we are able to eat at Mexican restaurants, Japanese restaurants, and so much more from people who have came from all over the world to get a chance at a better life. No matter where a person comes from, or what their stories and struggles are, America provides a sanctuary of opportunity for those who fight for it. If I could change one thing about America, it would be our two party system. Our system is a recipe for conflict and divide. I truly believe if we had more independents and more middle ground, our country could be more politically successful, economically successful, and more internationally successful. George Washington warned us hundreds of years ago about bipartisan fighting, our two party system will be the cause of this. Overall, America does have its problems. But our states are United, and United we will stand.

My name is Ana Monroe. I am 17 years old and a current high school senior at Piqua High School. I am incredibly passionate about pursuing my bachelor's degree in an allied health program. From my bachelor's, I will then apply straight to a doctoral program to earn my doctorate in Physical Therapy. I have a long and strenuous road ahead of me filled with rigorous courses, difficult exams, and sleepless nights. However, no matter the obstacle ahead of me, I will continue to believe in myself and fight for this career. To continue, I want to elaborate on why I am passionate about this career path. On April 9th, 2017, my life changed forever. I was rushed home and then to Miami Valley Hospital from a sleepover. I was only 12 at the time and very confused. By the looks of my sister's and her boyfriend's faces, I could tell that whatever happening was not good. On the way to the hospital, they informed me that my father was hit by a car on his motorcycle. He flipped over the car, crushed his pelvis, broke his back, and had a severe brain bleed. A 12-year-old is naive and has no idea what any of this means, but when she sees the fear in her mother's eyes, it is suffocating. I do not remember much from sitting in the waiting room, to hearing the doctors say they found a brain tumor during surgery to remove the pressure from his head, to the neurologist informing us that his tumor is a Stage 3 Anaplastic Astrocytoma. Also known as, he has roughly 3-5 years to live after treatment and hopefully successful surgeries. For the next 2 years, I spent Christmas and other important things without a dad. He was either righting for his life recovering from seizures caused by the tumor and treatment in the hospital or in the nursing home. Eventually, when we ran out of money, he stayed in a hospital bed in the living room. Over and over we were told, "He will not walk without a walker again," He will never be independent," He will never use the bathroom on his own." I am writing this today to tell you that his doctors and doctors' statistics were wrong. His physical therapists and occupational therapists worked miracles. For hours a week, my dad did cognitive and physical rehab. He relearned how to cook, brush his teeth, to take un-assisted steps. Slowly but surely, I got to watch my dad come back to me. He went from being sentenced to a hospital bed, to walking with a walker, to a cane, to finally walking my sister down the aisle at her wedding with just his arm around her stepdad for support. My dad's rehabilitation team saved his life. I never thought I would be so grateful to see him in our kitchen pouring coffee again. Overall, the way my dad learned how to live again truly inspired me. Watching the life pour back into his eyes as he realized he was healing gave me all the means I need to live. Now, I want to honor his recovery. I am choosing this career path to help change lives. I am hungry to help skyrocket others' recoveries and send loved family members back home. The future I want for myself is long, expensive, and difficult to say the least. But I know that honoring my dad and helping others overcome what they never thought possible as the joy returns back into their eyes, will be worth it.

To Women who need a voice; I was your play date. You made me think those were actual dates, I should have known you just wanted to play. You illustrated my adolescent body, with the fifth that entwined your fingers How revolting can you be, manipulate a child with half a father figure? How shameless can you be, go inside a child with your fingers? How demonic can you be, to force her into silence? My thoughts stormed in my head, flashbacks thrashing with violence How sirening can you be to seduce me with your music, while you made me sing With every single pitch, you wanted me to scream. You strummed away my innocence, with all my minor chords, You thought you stole my gift, but my voice will not be ignored. I will not let you break me, or chain me to the ground. I will encourage all silenced women, to rise up and make a sound. Shout from the top of your lungs, scream your forceful song. God will avenge your experiences, and assure you, you have won.

Mental health has had an incredibly strong impact on my life. I am affected both physically and emotionally. With my dad being diagnosed with brain cancer when I was 12, substance abuse issues when I was 13, and two different experiences with assault, my life has been far from easy. These experiences lead to depression, addiction, and suicidal ideations from a very young age. However, the most vital takeaway is that I rose and will continue to rise. Life is not about the circumstances we are given, but instead is about how we let these circumstances shape us to be. Growing up with a parent who has cancer makes for an incredibly unique childhood, to say the least. Instead of skating on Friday nights, I watched my dad fight for his life after chemo treatments. Instead of spending Christmas with my family at home, I spent Christmas in a rehabilitation facility watching my dad learn how to walk and talk again. My mother during this time period was very absent in my life. For good reason, she was busy paying thousands of greens deep in medical bills and the debilitating thought of her husband's potential funeral. This is where my depression, anxiety, and substance abuse began. I got to a point where I could not handle the racing thoughts of my dads' medical life sentence. I realized my mom would smoke and drink occasionally to calm the nerves, so I began to too, less occasionally. This continued on and off until the end of my freshman year. During this time is when I was getting groomed and abused by my 19-year-old boyfriend who I met at a party. My mom was just as naive as I was. I think she just wanted me to be happy so bad that the age barrier never crossed her radar. I was groomed again at the end of my sophomore year, this time I met him through school. I was mature and he was the golden boy, so nobody batted an eye. Continuing, mental health is incredibly important to me. It was not until I hit absolute rock bottom that I started my healing and growing process. One day during my second period, an announcement came on to the whole school. All I remember hearing is, "Last night, we lost a student Diego Arzola to suicide." I must have blanked out after that, I do not remember anything else other than the haunting fact that I would never see my friends smile again. I would never hear him laugh or walk across the stage at graduation together, it was over. The funeral was immobilizing. I will never forget seeing his parents sob or me sobbing into their arms. The way the hallways were silent was deafening. Watching my friends traumatized and changed forever was the most brutal wake-up call I would ever receive. From that moment forward, I stayed sober. I got back into counseling and roped my friends in really tight. That was the moment when I hit the realization that I could either let my situations shape me, or I could shape myself from the lessons the situations taught me. I worked on myself day in and day out. Instead of substances, I got into poetry and the gym. I was also elected as the President of my school's Hope Squad suicide prevention team by my senior year where I talk to others about my story and provide resources to help cope with mental health. My goal is to help destroy the stigma surrounding the ugly details of mental illness less taboo. I want to make those in Diego's position feel safer asking for help as well as making help more accessible to those in need. Overall, I truly started living for myself beyond substance and the chains my pessimist ideas tied me to. I started spending more time with my dad and standing by his side while he fought his cancer instead of sulking over my anxieties. He inspired me to determine my major and career path in physical therapy to help survivors like him win their battles. I started loving my body for the way it is and not letting the men who took advantage of it define me. I have learned the pure way to love others and the consensual way to express intimacy in my relationships. Most importantly, I have risen and continued rising beyond what my 12-year-old self ever thought possible. Mental health is hard, but we can do hard things. Our circumstances will not define us, they will not break us, and they will not chain us down. We will shape ourselves from them, rise, and keep on rising.

One of the most gut-wrenching moments in my life was being outed by my cousin to our very Christian family when I was just 14 years old. Although horrifying and life-altering, this event has given me the ability to help others in similar situations feel safe, loved, and able to have a relationship with God while being in the LGBTQIA + family. From a very early age, I knew I had an attraction to girls the same way I did to boys. When I was in first grade, other first-grade girls in my class would make fun of me and call me "gay" for always holding hands with my childhood best friend. When I told my mom, she said it meant I was happy. My grandma then told me that being "gay" is a deep and awful sin. A sin that would condemn me to eternal hell. After that, I made a vow with 6-year-old me that I would NEVER be 'gay” Flashing forward to my freshmen year, I had a girlfriend of 7 months. On our anniversary, I posted a video to my very small TikTok account (45 followers) of me singing her a love song. My cousin found the video. She showed her parents and my grandparents. My grandma called my mom utterly appalled. When I told my grandma it was true, she broke out into a sob. All she could manage to say was, "I hope you can talk to God and he can work a miracle within you.” That Christmas, I did not get a single gift from that side of the family. They hardly looked at me. My mom refused to defend me and my family waltzed around me as if I had an uncurable and contagious disease. This time period was extremely painful. Not only did I lose relationships with my family forever, but I also lost a big part of my comfort with my mom. She did not defend me. Instead, she told everyone she thought it to be a phase. As a result, I lost my relationship with God. I felt unworthy and that I would spend the rest of eternity in hell. Today, I have an incredible relationship with God. I did my own research and realized homosexuality was not even a term until the late 1900s. Through this experience, I have been able to help other members of the LGBTQIA + feel loved and safe in a relationship with God too. Every individual in this world whether gay, straight, transgender, or non-binary is worthy. I know I can help others feel this safety and love. I long to teach others what I know now, that any individual no matter their identification can go to heaven and can have a relationship with God. I hope to share this knowledge and bring normality to LGBTQ+ members loving God.

“3 years,” the doctor said. “Statistics show the median survival rate is less than 3 years.” How does a twelve-year-old comprehend that her father has less than three years to live? At first, he just had a tragic motorcycle accident, which led to a brain bleed, which led to a CT scan, which led to an MRI, which led to huge words such as “Anaplastic Astrocytoma,” and “Stage 3 malignant,” to the only phrase I could hear: “3 years. Doctors, especially oncologists, attend prestigious colleges for years to be rich in knowledge and preeminent in their occupations. As a society, we put all of our trust in doctors and take their words to heart. They are experienced and the best of the best at what they do, especially when it comes to knowing whether or not their patients can survive the ruthless disease named “cancer.” When an oncologist tells a family a survival rate, the statistic feels like a merciless life sentence. For years, I believed in this horrifying sentence. I used to play in my head on a loop how I would react once I received the news that my father had passed like a broken record. However, I am writing this at 17 years old. Four years have passed since surgery; no new cancer growth. Now, I challenge these statistics. I do not believe my dad or any other patient should surrender their life to a haunting number that we take so deeply into our hearts. In this universe, there are two components to surviving cancer: fight and chance. My dad has always been a fighter. He has always fought to be the best dad and husband possible. He has fought to be a man of leadership, growth, and pride. He never stops doing anything until he is satisfied. He fought himself from bed rest and zero cognitive function, to doing laundry and making dinner, and most importantly, he fought his own brain to win and survive longer than any of his surgeons thought possible. My dad's fight inspired me to face the situation with him and move forward. At one point, cancer ruined my life. For three years, I lived in depression and pre-grief for the father I thought I was going to lose. Four years later, he is unstoppable. His chance gave me a chance to soak in every moment I have with every person because nobody knows when life could change in a millisecond. If I could go back to my younger self, I would tell her to look the statistic dead in the eye and smile directly at it. Along with all of the lessons and positive developments cancer has had on my life, it has also inspired my long-term career goals. The amazing radiation therapists and physical therapists that treated my dad changed our lives forever. They quite literally saved his life and are the reason why I still have a dad to smile and laugh with every day. I have a powerful drive to skyrocket patients' recoveries as a radiation or physical therapist the same way they did for my dad. Although I still have rage for the world and question my faith in God on why this had to happen to my family, I can thank cancer for teaching me to live life fearlessly. I will forever fight with my dad to serve him and others. This situation has taught me that no matter what life sentence is given, we could ALWAYS be given a chance. When that chance happens, we run with it, and we never look back.