Some of the fundamental years of my life were robbed by a very difficult setback in my home. In 5th grade, my family adopted a boy named Tristan meaning “to cry out.” The day we adopted Tristan, we renamed him Isaiah meaning “God Saves.” The first week we had Isaiah, he had irrational breakdowns. The first week became the first year. We were on eggshells, living with a time bomb waiting on the next blowup. Isaiah stole from me, abused my brother, tried to kill our pets, and tore our home to pieces. Our family was breaking because of a broken boy. In response to his behavior, we put him in therapy. In a short time though, my whole family was in therapy. Every Sunday was spent on our knees in church begging God for a change within our home for a boy that we knew the Lord loved. The difficulty our family experienced due to his outbursts, his defiance, and his disruptive behavior took a massive toll. After 4 1/2 years of turmoil and distress without progress, we sent Isaiah to inpatient therapy to get help. We eventually got a call that Isaiah was an untreated psychotic. We ultimately had to dissolve the adoption with the 6th member of our family. This was deemed a failure to everyone around us. It was an obstacle in my way of life. It was a setback in our family’s health. Every person in my family was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. Our contact with Isaiah was terminated. To us, Isaiah died. However, it was not a failure. I went into high school with one less brother than I had for 50% of my life. I had two choices. I could mourn the loss of Isaiah and deem myself and my family a failure, or I could mourn the loss of Isaiah and understand that we did everything we could and would have to cope with the impact made on our lives. From this tragedy, I learned more than I could’ve imagined. I learned that I am stronger than I know. I am a great big sister to my younger brothers, I can endure longer than I would’ve thought possible, and some situations are out of my hands. Even greater is what I learned about the difference between failure and something not working. My family did not fail, my family gave their absolute all to Isaiah and his brokenness. Our family poured out to him for 5 years until we had nothing left. I have learned that just because something feels like failure, it does not deem it a failure. This is the most valuable lesson I could have ever learned. I apply this idea when I’m on the volleyball court, in the classroom, and in my relationships. While my heart still breaks for Isaiah, my heart did not fail him. I learned to protect my heart in healthy ways. Since this tragedy, I have seen myself have strength to persevere in so many situations that I would have otherwise let destroy me. The greatest lessons I could have learned came from Isaiah, and they are simply how to say “No,” and that God is still good. Because of this, my biggest goal is to help others overcome the difficulties I faced. Whether that is helping others mentally or physically, I want to be a helping hand to people in need. I plan on majoring in nursing or psychology so that I can aid others with the ability to empathize with others.

Some of the fundamental years of my life were robbed by a very difficult setback in my home. In my last year of elementary school, my family adopted a boy from the foster care system named Tristan meaning “to cry out.” Tristan was a broken boy who in turn broke us. The day we adopted Tristan, we renamed him Isaiah meaning “God Saves.” The first week we had Isaiah in our home as our child, he had irrational breakdowns. The first week became the first year. We were on eggshells in our home, living with a time bomb waiting on the next blow up. Isaiah stole from me, abused my brother, tried to kill our pets, and tore our home to pieces. Our family was breaking because of a broken boy. In response to his behavior, we put him in long term therapy. Subsequently, I was in therapy, my parents were in therapy, and my two brothers were in therapy. Every Sunday was spent on our knees in church begging God for a change within our home for a boy that we knew the Lord loved. The difficulty our family experienced due to his outbursts, his defiance, and his disruptive behavior took a massive toll. After 4 ½ years of turmoil and distress with Isaiah and his lack of progress, we sent him to an inpatient therapy to get the help he needed. We eventually got a call that Isaiah was an untreated psychotic. We had to dissolve the adoption with the 6th member of our family. In the midst of this extreme turmoil, my rock was the Lord. Our faith kept our family from drowning. Our life during these 4 1/2 years was not ideal, but it was the most impactful 4 1/2 years. Had our family not based every move we made on the Lord, we would have drowned. We kept faith in a miserable silence from the Lord, but learned that a silent God is not an absent God. The impact my faith has made on me is greater than any other impact. Our family gave Isaiah 4 1/2 years of a Christ-filled home, and had faith to trust God with the rest. My faith has given me the opportunity to live a life of joy. These years were not full of joy, but after having lived them, I have found peace that transcends all understanding. Today, I can live a life knowing that whatever I face, the Lord who loves me beyond measure is still my God. That is a life of true joy. Throughout this experience, I have also seen how the Lord works through me for others. I have been able to share this experience with those who are broken, and give them hope. I have learned to see others the way that God sees them. I learned so much about the Lord's steadfastness, and have the opportunity to show others that the Lord is the greatest satisfaction. The Lord has given me a heart for the broken, as I was once broken. I have strengthened relationships that I otherwise would not have, and I have learned how to love the people the world deems unlovable. The Lord is still working through me, I am just an instrument of his greatness!

Through my academic journey, I have demonstrated a strong commitment to excellence. Despite AP and Honors classes I have a 4.23 GPA and have consistently been on the honor roll. I understand the importance of education in shaping my future, and plan to major in nursing in college. Being a nurse will offer me a fulfilling career and I hope to ultimately become a registered nurse anesthetist. In addition to my academic achievements, I am a passionate and skilled volleyball player. I have been a member of multiple club teams and my school's volleyball team, where I have developed my athletic abilities and leadership skills. I was the team captain for my senior year and played all around never leaving the court. I finished the season as the leading scorer with All-Conference and All-State Tournament honors. I plan to continue to play volleyball in college, which will allow me to obtain the degree I need while playing the sport I love. However, some of the fundamental years of my life were robbed by a very difficult setback. In 5th grade, my family adopted a young boy Isaiah from foster care. The first week we had him, he had irrational breakdowns. The first week became the first year. We were on eggshells, living with a time bomb waiting on the next blowup. Isaiah stole from me, abused my younger brother, tried to kill our pets, and tore our home to pieces. Despite our efforts and therapy, our family was breaking because of this broken boy. Soon, my whole family was in therapy. Sundays were spent on our knees in church begging God for change for a boy that we knew the Lord loved. The difficulty our family experienced due to his outbursts, his defiance, and his disruptive behavior took a massive toll. After 4 1/2 years of turmoil and distress, we sent Isaiah to inpatient therapy. We eventually got a call that Isaiah was an untreated psychotic. We ultimately had to dissolve the adoption with the 6th member of our family. This was deemed a failure to everyone around us. It was an obstacle in my way of life. It was a setback in our family’s health. Every person in my family was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. Our contact with Isaiah was terminated. To us, Isaiah died. However, it was not a failure. I had two choices. I could mourn the loss of Isaiah and deem myself and my family a failure, or I could mourn his loss and understand that we did everything we could and would have to cope with the impact made on our lives. From this tragedy, I learned that I am stronger than I know. I am a great big sister to my younger brothers, I can endure longer than I would’ve thought possible, and some situations are out of my hands. My family did not fail but gave their all to Isaiah and his brokenness for 5 years until we had nothing left. I have learned that just because something feels like failure, it does not deem it a failure. I apply this idea when I’m on the volleyball court, in the classroom, and in my relationships. While my heart still breaks for Isaiah, my heart did not fail him. I learned to protect my heart in healthy ways. Since this tragedy, I have strength to persevere in areas that would have otherwise destroyed me. The greatest lessons I could have learned came from this hard time, and they are simply how to say “No,” and that God is still good.

In today’s world, society is focused on living without obstacles. We develop smartphones for easier access and cars that drive themselves. However, a society focused on “do it better and without flaw” can overlook the importance of growing through challenges. While trying to prevent obstacles is a good idea, setbacks are what created us. Why not learn to work through them, rather than avoid them? Some of the fundamental years of my life were robbed by a very difficult setback in my home. In 5th grade, my family adopted a boy named Tristan meaning “to cry out.” The day we adopted Tristan, we renamed him Isaiah meaning “God Saves.” The first week we had Isaiah, he had irrational breakdowns. The first week became the first year. We were on eggshells, living with a time bomb waiting on the next blowup. Isaiah stole from me, abused my brother, tried to kill our pets, and tore our home to pieces. Our family was breaking because of a broken boy. In response to his behavior, we put him in therapy. In a short time though, my whole family was in therapy. Every Sunday was spent on our knees in church begging God for a change within our home for a boy that we knew the Lord loved. The difficulty our family experienced due to his outbursts, his defiance, and his disruptive behavior took a massive toll. After 4 1/2 years of turmoil and distress without progress, we sent Isaiah to inpatient therapy to get help. We eventually got a call that Isaiah was an untreated psychotic. We ultimately had to dissolve the adoption with the 6th member of our family. This was deemed a failure to everyone around us. It was an obstacle in my way of life. It was a setback in our family’s health. Every person in my family was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. Our contact with Isaiah was terminated. To us, Isaiah died. However, it was not a failure. I went into high school with one less brother than I had for 50% of my life. I had two choices. I could mourn the loss of Isaiah and deem myself and my family a failure, or I could mourn the loss of Isaiah and understand that we did everything we could and would have to cope with the impact made on our lives. From this tragedy, I learned more than I could’ve imagined. I learned that I am stronger than I know. I am a great big sister to my younger brothers, I can endure longer than I would’ve thought possible, and some situations are out of my hands. Even greater is what I learned about the difference between failure and something not working. My family did not fail, my family gave their absolute all to Isaiah and his brokenness. Our family poured out to him for 5 years until we had nothing left. I have learned that just because something feels like failure, it does not deem it a failure. This is the most valuable lesson I could have ever learned. I apply this idea when I’m on the volleyball court, in the classroom, and in my relationships. While my heart still breaks for Isaiah, my heart did not fail him. I learned to protect my heart in healthy ways. Since this tragedy, I have seen myself have strength to persevere in so many situations that I would have otherwise let destroy me. The greatest lessons I could have learned came from Isaiah, and they are simply how to say “No,” and that God is still good.

@kat_jolie