Throughout my childhood in Monterey, I attended church with my grandmother, yet I never connected to the sermons. This spiritual connection was severed when my parents separated, and my mother, sisters, and I started a new life in San Diego. The first time I remember this pain of my parents' broken relationship was when I was 8 years old, and my once angelic-souled sister asked me if I could hand her a screwdriver so she could puncture her arm. It was the first time I was introduced to the realities of depression and anxiety. My sister, tried to kill herself her senior year of highschool and my sophomore year, everything escalated so quickly that night, I heard cries from the room nextdoor, next thing I know my oldest sister had called 911 to help my other sister out, i could hear the firemen walk though our hallway and forcefully take my sister to the hospital. As her moans and cries distanced as she was taken away, I remember locking myself in my room, selfishly angry at her, afraid of her, and desperate for her to be safe. I whispered repeatedly to myself, “God save us”. Soon, my life became a blur of therapist and psychiatrist appointments, titrating medications, and pulsing panic attacks, all of which led up to hospitalization. My “normal” life had ceased to exist. When I was released, a wave of loneliness overtook me; friendships, extracurriculars, and schoolwork all disintegrated. My world as I knew it was broken. The only person I could turn to for help was my lioness mother, who told me “God is fighting the battle”. How could this be true if I was the one feeling all the pain? She explained that the answer was in scripture, and the more I read it the more I craved a relationship with God. Then, during one church service, I made the choice to surrender my life to Christ. The Pastor guided me through a prayer, and warm tears streamed down my cheeks, assuring me that God's perfect love was waiting for me to accept. Choosing to believe in God revealed that surely God brings water from the rocks, bringing salvation to the dejected and providing them with Godly peace. To begin my journey, I began serving meals at Operation Hope, a community to help single parents get back on their feet. Although this opportunity was a great foundation, I yearned passionately to serve globally. I discovered that my church went on global missionary trips; when I told my mom of this desire to serve internationally, her initial response was “first finish high school”. Nevertheless, her comment didn’t stop God from planting me on a faith adventure, serving with Africa Renewal in Uganda. These experiences in servitude have established my drive to further my dream of becoming a reconstructive surgeon. My goal is to restore confidence in patients in places where they may have lost their sense of self. Using my identity in Christ I want patients to see my dedication and compassion to their journeys of restoration. Living faithfully has brought me closer to my family by playing a part in one another's spiritual journey. Even though there was brokenness in my childhood, God used it for good. I've been able to relate to many people; showing me that God loves us all the same, he just builds us differently. Seeing beauty in ashes brings hope. Therefore, I’ve given my life to Christ; he's the truth I've put my identity in.