For most of my life, my voice felt like something that did not belong anywhere. I learned early that being young, Black, and low income meant people often decided who I was before I ever spoke. I moved often, which meant I was constantly the new person, always trying to read the room before saying anything at all. Over time, I realized that no matter how carefully I chose my words, I was rarely heard the way others were. A large part of that came from how people perceived me. I am mostly Black, but I never developed the accent of the places I lived. Around other Black students, I was told I sounded too white. Around white students, I was treated as too Black, too different, or classless, even when we shared the same interests, music, or goals. I was stuck in between, constantly feeling like I had to shrink myself to avoid standing out for the wrong reasons. Instead of speaking confidently, I learned to stay quiet, hoping that being small would make things easier. That silence followed me into classrooms and social spaces. Teachers often assumed I needed less support or more discipline rather than understanding. Peers spoke over me or ignored me entirely. When I did speak, my words were questioned or dismissed, especially because of my age. I internalized the idea that my thoughts were not valuable yet, that I needed to wait until I was older, louder, or more acceptable to be taken seriously. Each time I stayed silent, it reinforced the belief that my voice did not matter. The turning point was not a single dramatic confrontation, but a slow realization that trying to fit in was costing me my sense of self. I was exhausted from adjusting my tone, interests, and personality to make other people comfortable. I realized that the problem was not my voice, but the spaces that refused to make room for it. Instead of continuing to disappear, I chose to stand out. I changed my style and leaned into an alternative identity that felt authentic to me. It was the first time I allowed myself to exist without apology. That shift changed how I communicated. I stopped measuring my worth by how easily others accepted me. I learned that confidence does not come from being validated, but from being honest. When I embraced who I was, speaking became easier. I no longer felt the need to explain myself or soften my presence. My voice became clearer because I was no longer trying to make it sound like someone else’s. This lesson continues to shape my life today. At sixteen, I am graduating early and preparing to enter college, often surrounded by people older than me. Despite being at the same point academically, I am frequently underestimated. People assume I lack experience or knowledge simply because of my age. In the past, this would have made me retreat. Now, I recognize it as another moment where my voice matters most. I have learned to advocate for myself, to ask questions, and to speak with confidence even when others doubt me. Working from a young age also forced me to find my voice. Navigating workplaces as a teenager taught me how to communicate professionally, assert boundaries, and stand up for myself in environments that were not built for someone like me. Each experience strengthened my ability to speak clearly and without fear, even when the stakes felt high. Looking forward, I want to use my voice to create spaces where young people, especially those from marginalized backgrounds, feel seen and respected. I want to advocate for students who are underestimated because of race, class, or age, and help them understand that their perspectives are valuable right now, not someday in the future. I hope to use communication as a tool for leadership, whether that is through mentorship, community work, or professional spaces where voices like mine are often overlooked. Struggling to use my voice taught me that silence is not safety. Being unheard is painful, but choosing to speak anyway is powerful. I no longer measure myself by how well I blend in. I measure myself by how honestly I show up. My voice was never the problem, the people around me were.

Growing up in Prince George’s County taught me how to adjust quickly in social settings and learn from many different environments. I was surrounded by people with different backgrounds, goals, and challenges, and that pushed me to become adaptable and self-aware at a young age. Those skills have followed me into every space I enter, from work to academics, and they continue to shape how I approach my future. One of the biggest challenges I have faced was navigating graduating early and preparing for college largely on my own. At sixteen, I currently work two jobs and am fully responsible for paying for my education. While many students my age are still focused only on school, I have had to learn how to manage finances, schedules, and long-term planning early. Doing everything alone has been difficult, but it has also strengthened my independence and determination. I learned quickly that if I wanted stability and opportunity, I had to create it myself. My interest in technology is deeply personal. After my father passed away, I felt driven to continue where his curiosity left off. He was fascinated by technology and how it shapes the world, and his passion stayed with me. Exploring technology became a way for me to honor him while also discovering my own path. That curiosity eventually turned into a clear goal of pursuing a degree in information systems and building a future in technology and business. What motivates me when situations become overwhelming is prayer. No matter how stressful things become, I turn to Jesus for strength and clarity. My faith grounds me and reminds me that my circumstances do not define my future. It gives me the patience to keep going even when the pressure feels heavy and the outcome feels uncertain. In the future, I hope to improve communities by starting my own business focused on education. My goal is to create a self-paced online learning platform for low-income students like myself who need flexible and affordable access to education. Education should not be limited by income, location, or rigid structures that fail to account for real life responsibilities. I also want to give back to Prince George’s County specifically through technology. I have seen firsthand what a lack of representation and technical knowledge can look like, and I want to be part of changing that reality for the next generation. As a Pell-eligible student covering my education independently, this scholarship would go directly toward my tuition and help ease the financial weight I currently carry alone. Reducing that burden would allow me to focus on my studies rather than constant financial stress daily. Looking ahead, I see myself living in Richmond, Virginia, having earned my master’s degree, and working for a strong company while continuing to build my business. I am proud of myself for graduating early and maintaining two jobs while staying focused on my goals. This scholarship would support not just my education, but my commitment to turning perseverance into long-term impact. Being able to take this next step means more than academic success to me. It represents growth, healing, and honoring the sacrifices that shaped who I am today. I do not take opportunities lightly because I understand how rare they can feel when resources are limited. Every step forward is intentional, and every goal I set is tied to building a future that is stable, meaningful, and rooted in service to others while remaining grounded in faith, purpose, and responsibility.

My grandfather was a man shaped by both love and loss. He served in the United States Army during World War II, a time that demanded more from young men than anyone should ever have to give. By the time I knew him, the war lived quietly inside him, present in ways that were not always visible but always felt. He later passed away due to complications from Agent Orange exposure, and while I was still young when he died, his presence remains one of the strongest influences in my life. Some of my earliest memories of my grandfather are not about the war at all. They are about small, oddly specific moments that still make me smile. He would tell me to stop walking on the knuckles of my feet when I paced around the house, and he would scold me for trying to eat baby powder, something I thought was funny at the time and something he absolutely did not. He was serious and silly at the same time, the kind of person who corrected you gently but firmly, always watching, always caring. After he passed, I never walked on the knuckles of my feet again. It is strange how something so small can stay with you forever, but that is how he was. Even in quiet moments, he left an imprint. As I grew older, I learned more about what my grandfather carried with him from his service. During the war, he lost his best friend in an explosion on the battlefield and was forced to carry him back afterward. The trauma from that experience followed him for the rest of his life. His PTSD was so severe that my grandmother often had to sleep in a separate room. He rarely spoke about the details, but the weight of what he endured shaped the way he moved through the world. Despite that pain, he still found ways to love deeply and live fully. His strength became even more meaningful to me as I faced my own health challenges. I was born with an immune system disorder called neutropenia, which caused me to have dangerously low white blood cell counts. When I was younger, doctors feared I might have leukemia. I also struggled with learning difficulties, challenges that made school and daily life feel heavier than they should have been. Watching how my grandfather lived, knowing what he survived, helped me understand that difficulty does not mean defeat. He showed me that persistence matters, even when the struggle is invisible. I see my grandfather in myself now more than ever. I work hard. I do not give up when things become uncomfortable or overwhelming. I move forward even when fear or uncertainty tries to slow me down. He lived every moment to the fullest, not because life was easy, but because he chose to keep going anyway. That mindset has shaped how I approach my education, my responsibilities, and my future. Although he is no longer here, my grandfather continues to guide me. His service taught me resilience. His quiet love taught me discipline. His life taught me that strength does not always look loud or heroic, but steady and enduring. I carry his legacy with me in the way I live, the way I persevere, and the way I refuse to let anything stand in the way of becoming the person he would be proud of.

Growing up as an African American lesbian has shaped who I am today. My experiences have taught me to regulate my emotions, approach challenges with maturity, and embrace my identity with pride. Navigating the world as a young Black LGBTQ+ woman has not always been easy, but it has strengthened my resilience and determination. I am excited to start college at 16 because I have always felt that I am capable of more, and I have always wanted to challenge myself. My family’s financial situation has also motivated me to work hard and aim higher. Being a first-generation student with a family rooted in the same town for over a century, I want to grow, evolve, and create opportunities for the generations to come. My journey has not been without obstacles. I lost my father at a young age, and more recently, my mother was diagnosed with heart failure and a brain aneurysm. These events introduced challenges that could have held me back, but instead, they shaped me into someone who is independent, responsible, and driven. Moving states and experiencing isolation at times also meant I had to navigate mental health challenges on my own. Despite these hurdles, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA, worked two jobs to fund my tuition, and grown into a confident young woman who is finally comfortable in her identity. I am proud of the balance I have managed between school, work, and supporting my family, all while maintaining my personal growth and mental well-being. These experiences have taught me responsibility, time management, and the importance of perseverance. These are skills I know will continue to serve me in college and beyond. At home, I take on responsibilities that go far beyond my age. I help my mother manage her health, handle groceries, and cover my tuition and other expenses. Taking on these adult roles has shaped my character, fostering maturity, resilience, and ambition. I also strive to make a positive impact on those around me. I inspire others by showing that it is okay to be yourself and that embracing your identity is a strength. I believe in lifting others up, sharing my story, and demonstrating that challenges can be overcome with determination and self-belief. Looking forward, I hope to use my skills and experiences to create opportunities for others who face obstacles similar to mine. I want to start an online school program for people with limited access to resources, especially in underserved communities where educational opportunities are scarce. By combining my knowledge of technology with my passion for helping others, I aim to empower young people and give them tools to succeed, regardless of their circumstances. My long-term goal is to build a business that focuses on uplifting marginalized communities, providing education, mentorship, and resources where they are most needed. What sets me apart from other applicants is my drive, ambition, and ability to face challenges head-on. Even at 16, I have taken on responsibilities that many older students have not, funding my own education, maintaining academic excellence, supporting my family, and embracing my identity as a proud African American lesbian. I do not let obstacles deter me; instead, I use them as motivation to grow, learn, and impact others positively. My early start in college reflects my desire to challenge myself and continually evolve. I am ready to take on new opportunities, share my experiences, and create meaningful change in my community and beyond.

I was diagnosed with neutropenia when I was young. At first, my family and I were terrified because doctors thought I might have cancer. Every doctor’s visit felt like waiting for bad news. I learned early how fragile my health could be. I get sick more often than most people. Even minor colds or infections can become serious. Because of this, I have to be careful about exposure to germs, crowded places, and sometimes even school activities. I often had to miss events or stay home when others went out. It was isolating, but it taught me to adapt and manage my life carefully. Living with neutropenia has shaped how I approach challenges. I learned to be cautious but persistent. I have to plan ahead, manage my health carefully, and stay aware of my limits. Some days were frustrating because I wanted to participate fully in school, sports, or social activities but could not. These experiences, however, taught me patience and resilience. I learned to adjust when circumstances changed, to find alternative ways to pursue my goals, and to continue even when obstacles seemed overwhelming. Neutropenia also gave me perspective on opportunity and privilege. I understand how health can affect access to education, social interaction, and daily life. Because I had to be vigilant about illness, I learned to maximize the time I am healthy and capable. I have become intentional about learning, working, and personal growth. I focus on what I can do rather than what I cannot, and I take responsibility for maintaining my health while still pushing toward my ambitions. These experiences have influenced my future plans. I want to study Business Information Systems because it allows me to work in a field where I can be creative, organized, and practical, even with health limitations. I want to design systems and platforms that help people solve problems efficiently. This includes technology that supports health management or provides accessibility for those facing barriers. My experiences with neutropenia have taught me empathy, problem-solving, and persistence—skills I intend to carry into my career. Despite my condition, I am determined to succeed. I want to show that chronic medical challenges do not define a person’s potential. I plan to continue learning, applying my skills, and building systems that make life easier for others. Living with neutropenia has taught me to be careful, patient, and strategic. These lessons guide how I approach my goals and inspire me to create solutions that improve lives, both for myself and for others facing obstacles. Neutropenia has been a challenge, but it has also been a teacher. It shaped the way I think, act, and plan. It taught me resilience, focus, and empathy. Most importantly, it gave me a sense of purpose. I want to take what I’ve learned from managing my health and use it to help others overcome their own challenges. I want to show people that even with difficulties, it is possible to adapt, persevere, and succeed. My experiences have prepared me to face challenges with logic, care, and determination, and I hope to use these lessons to make a meaningful impact in my career and my community.

When my father died, I was fourteen. Our lives changed immediately. My mother struggled to cover bills, rent, and food. Later, she became seriously ill, and I had to take on responsibilities beyond my age. I learned to manage the household, help with chores, and support her health. I had to balance these duties with school and work whenever I could. Some days, I felt exhausted and overwhelmed. I wondered if I could keep going. My older brother struggled as well. The weight of our loss and the pressure at home became too much for him. After a dangerous incident where he shot himself in the leg, I realized how close he was to giving up entirely. I could not let him lose hope. I stayed with him, listened, and reminded him that he mattered. I told him he had a future worth fighting for. I stayed calm when he was angry, scared, and confused. I encouraged him to get help, and I guided him toward support, step by step. Seeing me continue to manage responsibilities despite my own pain helped him believe he could recover. Resilience became my daily practice. I faced grief, financial hardship, and household pressures while keeping school as a priority. I learned time management, planning, and problem-solving under stress. I learned to act even when scared, to continue when I wanted to stop, and to make decisions when uncertainty felt overwhelming. My brother watched me. Over time, he began to trust that life could improve. He took steps to heal. He learned that obstacles, no matter how heavy, could be faced and overcome. This experience taught me that resilience is not just surviving. It is showing others that strength is possible. It is leading by example when circumstances are difficult. My actions gave my brother hope, and that changed the course of his life. I realized that one person’s persistence can affect someone else profoundly. I carry this lesson into my goals. I want to create systems and online platforms that support people facing challenges, so others do not feel alone. Leadership, resilience, and action allow me to build tools that provide access, guidance, and opportunity. The work I did for my family shows me the impact one person can have. I want to take that same dedication and apply it to helping others through technology, education, and mentorship. Through my experiences, I understand that challenges are not permanent if you act with purpose. Resilience inspires others, and leadership turns that inspiration into practical support. My story with my brother and my family demonstrates that even in the hardest moments, strength, guidance, and persistence can save lives, provide hope, and create real change.

Leadership and science shape the future by creating solutions and making them effective. Science provides knowledge, tools, and systems to solve problems. Leadership determines how those tools are used, who benefits from them, and how ideas move from concept to action. Together, they drive progress and impact. Being low income, i’ve seen first hand what the lack of access to scientific knowledge can do. I plan to major in Business Information Systems and use technology to improve access to education. I want to create online platforms for students who face barriers, including low-income students and students with disabilities. Science in this context is the study of systems, algorithms, and data. Understanding these systems allows me to design platforms that function efficiently, adapt to user needs, and provide meaningful learning opportunities. Technology alone is not enough; it must be applied thoughtfully to reach students who are often left behind. Leadership is essential to make these platforms successful. I will organize teams, manage projects, and set clear goals to ensure that technology benefits students in practical ways. I want to guide others, support collaboration, and create tools that solve real problems. Leadership ensures that platforms are not only built, but also implemented in ways that improve access, engagement, and outcomes. By combining leadership, science, and business knowledge, I can create platforms that provide structure, mentorship, and interactive learning resources. These systems will be inclusive, scalable, and practical. Students will have access to lessons, guidance, and tools that help them succeed, even when traditional education is out of reach. Science shows what is possible. Leadership ensures that possibility reaches the people who need it. My career goal is to use both to remove barriers and give students the tools to achieve. I want to create systems that empower learners, provide opportunities, and inspire confidence. Scholarships like this allow students like me to develop the skills, knowledge, and experience needed to turn ideas into practical solutions. Leadership and science together provide the foundation to make real impact in education and in communities that need it most.

My life changed early. When my parents separated, I had to move abruptly. I left friends, schools, and stability behind. I learned how quickly circumstances can shift, and how little control we sometimes have over them. I also learned how to adapt. Years later, my father died. In the same week, my grandmother passed away. Grief entered our home twice. Income left once. We struggled financially in ways I had never experienced before. Bills accumulated. Groceries required strict planning. College, once an expectation, began to feel distant and uncertain. My mother worked two jobs to keep us afloat. I watched her leave before sunrise and return exhausted. At fifteen, I chose to work as well. I balanced school with employment because I understood our situation clearly. Financial hardship was no longer abstract; it shaped our daily decisions and long-term outlook. Those years forced maturity. I could not afford distraction. I accelerated my coursework and graduated at fifteen. I will begin college in fall 2026 at sixteen. Education became my strategy for stability. I refused to let financial hardship determine the size of my ambitions. There were nights when I felt overwhelmed. I remember sitting at the kitchen table after work, completing assignments while my mother slept before her next shift. I understood that her sacrifices were creating my opportunity. That realization strengthened my discipline and clarified my purpose. As a female student of color pursuing STEM, I am aware of the gaps in representation. Women, especially women of color, remain underrepresented in technology and engineering fields. Financial disadvantage creates an additional barrier. Access to advanced courses, mentorship, and technology often depends on income. I have experienced those limits firsthand. My passion for technology connects to my grandmother. She believed education was protection. Even when resources were limited, she valued learning deeply. She encouraged curiosity, discipline, and confidence. After she passed, I carried forward her belief that knowledge creates security. Technology shapes access. It influences how students learn, how businesses operate, and how communities connect to opportunity. I chose to study Information Systems because it combines technical skill with strategic thinking. I want to understand databases, cybersecurity, systems design, and data analytics. I also want to examine how those systems influence economic mobility and opportunity gaps. Financial hardship taught me how fragile opportunity can be. Many students in low-income communities lack access to structured financial education. They graduate without understanding credit, investing, budgeting, or entrepreneurship. Without that knowledge, even income growth does not guarantee long-term stability. I have seen how uncertainty around money limits confidence. When students do not understand financial systems, they hesitate to pursue internships, scholarships, or entrepreneurial ideas. Knowledge reduces fear. Structure builds confidence. Access expands possibility. My long-term goal is to establish an online education company focused on students from financially disadvantaged backgrounds. The platform will provide affordable courses in financial literacy, technology skills, coding, and business fundamentals. Corporate partnerships and scholarship funding will help maintain low costs, while a percentage of profits will fund free enrollment for students with demonstrated need. The platform will emphasize practical outcomes. Lessons will be structured, accessible, and application-based. Students should leave knowing how to build credit responsibly, manage debt, prepare for technical interviews, apply for internships, and develop employable skills. Education should translate into measurable capability. In addition to coursework, the platform will incorporate mentorship and peer collaboration. Students will connect with professionals in STEM fields and complete guided projects that reinforce learning. Clear milestones will help students visualize progress and understand how consistent effort leads to advancement. I also plan to mentor young women of color pursuing STEM. Representation affects confidence and expectations. When students see leaders who share aspects of their identity, ambition feels attainable rather than abstract. I want to help build structured mentorship networks that support students from high school through early career development. Before launching my company, I plan to work in technology consulting or enterprise systems development. I want to gain experience in data security, cloud infrastructure, and systems integration within large organizations. Practical industry knowledge will allow me to design platforms that are secure, scalable, and sustainable. Adversity shaped my discipline. Financial hardship shaped my ambition. Loss shaped my perspective. Watching my mother work two jobs taught me endurance. Graduating early taught me focus. Preparing to enter college at sixteen has strengthened my independence and time management. I do not view my background as a limitation. It provided clarity. I understand instability on such a deep level. I understand constraint. I also understand how transformative access can be when opportunity becomes tangible. My goal extends beyond personal success. I intend to build systems that expand access to education and financial knowledge for students who begin with limited resources, students who share the same background as me. My experiences did not narrow my ambitions; they refined them and gave them direction.

Sitting in a therapist’s office at 12, I tried to explain why I felt empty all the time. I did not have a single event to point to. I had years of instability. Adults in my life left, died, struggled with their own issues, or failed to show up in consistent ways. I learned early how to take care of myself. I also learned how to hide how much that hurt. Depression did not look dramatic from the outside. I still went to school. I still smiled in public. Inside, I felt disconnected and unmotivated. I started failing classes because I stopped believing my future mattered. If the people meant to guide you disappear, your sense of direction disappears with them. Before I turned 14, I began using marijuana. At first, it felt like relief. I felt calmer. I felt less aware of the heaviness in my chest. Over time, it became avoidance. Instead of facing my emotions, I numbed them. My grades dropped further. My circle changed. I spent more time escaping than planning. The lowest point came when I looked at my transcript and saw how far I had fallen from who I used to be. I had always been capable. Teachers once described me as focused and driven. Now I was behind, detached, and underperforming. I realized my coping strategy was building a future I did not want. Seeking help was not a single decision. It was a series of uncomfortable steps. I spoke to a counselor. I admitted I was using substances to cope. I started therapy consistently. I reduced my exposure to peers who encouraged drug use. Recovery felt slow. I relapsed in small ways. I returned to the process each time. Sobriety forced me to sit with emotions I had avoided for years. I had to grieve the absence of stable adult support. I had to accept that depression required management, not denial. Therapy taught me practical tools. I track my mood weekly. I follow a structured routine. I exercise regularly because research shows physical activity reduces depressive symptoms by up to 30 percent. I limit environments that trigger isolation or substance use. Education became part of my recovery. I enrolled in online school to regain control over my pace and environment. Structure improved my performance. I rebuilt my GPA through disciplined study blocks and clear academic goals at just 15. Each completed assignment reinforced a new identity. I was no longer the student who gave up. I was the student rebuilding. I graduated early at 15 now im ready for college at 16. It all feels so surreal. My educational goal is to major in Business Information Systems and build technology solutions that expand access to education and mentorship. My past showed me what happens when guidance is missing. I want to design systems that provide structure and opportunity for students who feel unsupported. Managing recovery remains an active commitment. I attend therapy. I maintain sobriety. I avoid substance centered environments. I communicate when I feel overwhelmed instead of isolating. I set measurable goals each semester and review them monthly. If my mood declines for more than two weeks, I increase support instead of withdrawing. Depression and substance use shaped my early adolescence, but they do not define my trajectory today. Recovery taught me discipline, self awareness, and accountability. Each day I choose habits that support stability. Each semester I choose actions that support my future. My past reflects struggle. My present reflects responsibility. My future reflects intention.

My father died when I was young. My mother became the only provider. Money was tight. Bills came first, wants came last. Growing up low-income in a single parent household taught me to plan and work hard. I tracked schoolwork, deadlines, and responsibilities. I learned focus through pressure. I want to work in business information systems. I study technology and management to run projects efficiently. My goal is to become an IT project manager and one day start my own business. I organize my time, practice coding, and research management strategies to make this possible. I use my experience to help others. I share study tips with classmates. I organize notes and schedules for peers. I support friends who struggle with deadlines. Action improves results for you and those around you. Daily effort matters. I send scholarship applications weekly. I write essays clearly and directly. I manage my savings while preparing for college. Planning replaces stress. Life experience guides my choices. Loss taught urgency. Financial struggle taught discipline. Single parent strength showed endurance. I take these lessons to work, school, and community. Support from this scholarship accelerates my goals. Resources turn persistence into achievement. Knowledge and preparation let me make a measurable impact in my field and community.

The day my father died, my life changed in a single phone call. I lost more than a parent. I lost our provider, our protector, and the steady voice that guided our home. His absence left a gap in our family that I felt in every room. The silence felt heavy. The bills felt heavier. Grief hit first. Then fear followed. I worried about how we would keep our home. I worried about how my family would move forward. I worried about whether I would have to put my education on hold to help cover expenses. I felt pressure to stay strong, but inside I felt lost. During that time, my faith became my anchor. I prayed every morning before school. I asked God for strength, clarity, and peace. I did not pray for the pain to disappear. I prayed for the strength to endure it. Scripture reminded me that trials build perseverance. Church reminded me that I did not have to carry everything by myself. One Sunday, a message about trusting God during hardship spoke directly to me. The pastor said faith does not remove obstacles. Faith gives you the courage to face them. That message shifted my mindset. I stopped asking, “Why did this happen?” I started asking, “How do I move forward with purpose?” I began to act on that faith. I helped my family create a strict budget. I applied for part time work after graduating at just 15. I searched for scholarships and academic support programs. When I felt overwhelmed, I returned to prayer instead of giving up. Faith gave me discipline. Faith gave me focus. Faith gave me hope when circumstances looked unstable. There were nights when I studied through tears. There were mornings when I questioned whether I had the strength to continue. Each time, I reminded myself of my father’s work ethic and my belief that God had a plan for my life. I chose to honor my father by staying committed to my education. Through this challenge, my faith matured. I learned that faith requires action. I learned that hardship reveals character. I learned that ambition rooted in faith creates resilience. My father’s passing forced me to grow up quickly. It forced me to lead within my family. Most important, it strengthened my relationship with God. I no longer see obstacles as barriers. I see them as tests of perseverance and trust. I continue to pursue my education with determination. I carry my father’s memory with me. I rely on my faith to guide my decisions. That faith continues to shape who I am and who I am becoming.