“Compassion is an action word with no boundaries.” This truth became deeply personal to me through an experience within my own home. My family serves as a foster family, and through this, I have witnessed both the brokenness and resilience of children who have experienced trauma. One particular seven-year-old child returned to our home after being removed again from his biological father due to severe physical and emotional abuse. When he came back, he was separated from his siblings, who he had always loved and protected like the amazing older brother he is. His trauma showed itself in many ways: difficulty trusting others, struggles with discipline, and an overwhelming sense of insecurity. During his first week back, the depth of his fear became unmistakably clear. My sister and I would wake up in the mornings to find that he had quietly entered our room during the night and fallen asleep on the floor. I tried to make a conscious effort to create an environment where he could experience consistency, patience, and joy. I spent time playing with him, encouraging him, and meeting him where he was emotionally, even when it was difficult. But with balancing school, work, extracurriculars and family I could never devote enough time to meet his needs. While the moments I did get to invest in him were not extraordinary, together they formed a foundation of trust. Around the same time, my grandmother moved into our home. She was very ill and struggling with dementia, which often left her confused and isolated. Her life had also been marked by hardship: an abusive stepmother in her childhood and a marriage that shaped her world in complex ways. Like the child, she struggled socially, often feeling disconnected from those around her. What I witnessed next was something I will never forget. Despite their differences in age and circumstance, these two individuals formed a bond rooted entirely in compassion. The boy, who had every reason to be guarded, showed remarkable patience with my grandmother. He would sit with her and play cards, even as she forgot the rules repeatedly. Instead of frustration, he responded with gentleness. He would also leave small crafts outside her bedroom door; simple, thoughtful gifts that felt like quiet reminders that she was seen and valued. In return, my grandmother offered him something equally powerful. She shared laughter, told him jokes, and gently whispered pieces of scripture to him. These words built his confidence and reminded him of his worth. Though her memory was fading, her ability to love and uplift others remained. In many ways, they were meeting each other in their brokenness, and through that, creating something whole. This relationship was not perfect, but it was profoundly meaningful. Each of them, in their own way, helped restore something in the other. He found stability, patience, and affirmation; she found purpose, connection, and joy. Watching this unfold taught me that compassion does not require perfection or expertise, but it requires simple presence, and a willingness to see others beyond their circumstances. This experience has had a lasting impact on me. It reinforced my belief that compassion is not passive; it is intentional and active. It also affirmed my desire to pursue a career in nursing, where I can provide both skilled care and genuine empathy to those in vulnerable situations. Compassion truly has no boundaries. It transcends age, circumstance, and past pain, and it has the power to restore dignity, build connection, and bring hope where it is needed most.

When I entered the eighth grade at a new school, I had no direction, no courage, and no sense of belonging. Every morning I would cry as we approached the building, desperate to turn around. What I could not see then was that Jesus heard those cries and was already preparing to redeem them. Before Covid, I had grown up in the school where my mom taught—running through the halls, knowing every teacher, and feeling completely rooted. When the pandemic hit in March 2020, everything familiar disappeared overnight. Online school left me isolated and empty, and I entered high school feeling like a blank slate. What I eventually learned is that emptiness can become the clearest canvas for God’s glory. During my freshman year, I tried to hide that emptiness behind an image of perfection. My mentors told me to “fake it till you make it,” so I did. I built a persona I hoped would earn respect and belonging. For a while, it worked—until the inevitable drama of high school exposed the brokenness I had pretended to escape. In the lowest moment of that season, when I was trying to feel physically what I lacked spiritually, Jesus met me. That encounter became the beginning of a new kind of courage, one rooted not in performance, but in Christ. The summer of 2023 marked a turning point. I was selected for a student internship at my church, where I learned from pastors and mentors who lived out authentic faith. At the end of the program, each intern shared a ten-minute testimony. I had never publicly spoken about the sin patterns I had carried for years, but as I prepared my message, I realized that God was giving me a voice and asking me to use it. Speaking that day was the first time I understood that communication is ministry. God had taken the girl who couldn’t look people in the eye and given her the determination to stand before seventy-five peers and proclaim His grace. After the internship, I wanted to bring that same boldness to my school. The only Christian organization on campus was Fellowship of Christian Athletes, so I began investing there. Over the next three years, FCA grew from 40 students to more than 160 each week. I shared my testimony publicly at our Courts of Faith in the spring of 2024, and since then God has opened countless gospel conversations with students who might never have stepped into a church. Because I’m not an athlete, one of the first things I emphasized as a leader was that FCA belongs to anyone who wants to hear about Jesus. Speaking openly about my faith has not only influenced others; it has also held me accountable to walk out what I proclaim. Through these experiences, God has shown me that He did not simply give me a voice; He gave me a calling. He has turned fear into courage, insecurity into conviction, and silence into leadership. The determination I have today does not come from me; it is evidence of His power working in my weakness. I hope to carry this calling into my career as a forensic nurse, working in a Child Advocacy Center or Emergency Department. I plan to complete the ASN–RN program at National Park College and enter the workforce within two years. Nursing will allow me to show the love of Christ to people in crisis and to speak truth where it is needed most. James 4:6–7 reminds me of the posture I want to maintain: humility, submission, and steadfast resistance against the enemy.

@anne.clxire

As a student who is interested in psychology, and a people watcher by nature, I like to keep an eye out for people who need help. I have learned that some people seem perfectly fine, but internally, they are screaming for help. Everywhere I go, I find someone that needs help, and I have learned how to help them. When at church, I can connect with someone by praying over them and then connecting them with resources to get help. At school, I can share my faith while being respectful and being there as a shoulder to cry on. My family is a foster family, so I lead kids in the right direction and ensure they feel loved. Sometimes I see someone and pray because I get a feeling that something is wrong. One of the biggest challenges I had personally is conquering severe anxiety. When I moved schools last year, I had a breakdown. Eventually, I realized that I needed to face all of my past emotions and make a conscious decision to move forward. Something I did that pulled me out of my anxiety was simply helping other people. I got involved with my school service learning projects and helped lead multiple projects. My friend Miranda and I led our school to gather over a thousand items to donate to our local homeless center, the Eleanor Klugh Jackson House for Crisis Intervention. During August 2021, I held another drive to collect canned food, toiletries, and other supplies for citizens of Waverly, Tennessee after a tragic flood hit. Alongside these, we had multiple other awareness assemblies, fundraisers, and assisted our students. Helping other people took my mind off of my struggles. I connected with amazing people through these service projects and felt accomplished when helping others. Since I was little, I have always known that God put me here to help others. It's just a core belief that is built into the way that I think. I am going to become a child psychologist who focuses on helping kids in the foster care system that need help understanding the emotions they are experiencing and how to interpret them. I can use my experiences with anxiety and toxic situations to connect with kids and teenagers. Then I can guide these children through their situations. I am an advocate for mental health and we need some positive influence in our foster care system. Someone needs to fight for these children and I can be their warrior. Helping people is what I like to do, it's my hobby so I was ecstatic when I found this scholarship. This school year, I am finding new ways to serve my school and community. People need support and I am always there when they do. I know that I can make a positive impact on others. I appreciate the time taken to read this essay and I hope to hear from you soon.