You were made for this. Arriving at Washington Family Ranch for four weeks of volunteering was a life changing moment for me. Initially, the first two weeks of Younglife Workcrew were amazing: meeting lifelong friends, growing closer to God, and serving in the shadows to give middle schoolers the chance to meet and learn about Jesus. Towards the end of the second week, I grew exhausted working on my feet for sixteen hours on end and wondering why I decided to volunteer for so long. I was angry at God for letting me endure something like this which I willingly signed up for. At the end of the second camper week, a storm howled with crazy winds, lightning strikes, and the scariest tempest I've ever seen. Yet, when the eye of the storm hit, all was peaceful, watching pink and orange clouds swirl around as we were able to go outside after two hours of the storm. But as fast as the storm calmed, it picked back up even quicker, once inside we soon learned there was a major power outage. Thinking nothing of it, we went to sleep assuming it would be fixed. The next morning we had our “family worship” with all the volunteers outside because all buildings were over 90 degrees. The power still wasn’t fixed. They told us that we had to postpone the camper week a day to ensure it was safe for campers. They said this was a “holy disruption”, but at that moment I was mad at God and was questioning His existence. I wondered why we would have a holy disruption when it would only lead to doing pointless tasks in 115 degree weather. When I was going back to the cabin to rest due to the lack of AC, I saw a helicopter, thinking it was the media covering the camp. I thought nothing. The power was still out and they finally decided to cancel camp for that week as conditions were too dangerous. Finally, as the night came to a close and we were asleep, our bosses came in and said we had an emergency meeting, at midnight. We soon learned that at the adjoining camp, there was a gruesome accident, that the helicopter wasn't the media. A girl devoted to Younglife, like me, from Colorado, like me, serving for the same purpose, like me. Was involved in a utility vehicle accident and passed away. A holy disruption, which I was so mad at God for, truly was a holy disruption. We were given the opportunity to go to the other camp the next morning and give the other volunteers a day off, allowing them time to grieve. While I was devastated, I knew I had to help out. Going over to the other camp, my knee was still in a lot of pain so in a lull, I went to the nurse once again. They told me I had severely injured my knee and I most likely needed surgery. So I called my mom, and she booked me a flight. My friends were supporting me from the trauma we all were going through and supporting me from realizing I had to leave, I had to quit. Finding that community helped me exponentially, finding God in that holy disruption grew me as a person, and Adelaide's death helped me realize just how precious life is. This life experience shaped me as a person and made me learn many hard life lessons, without these experiences though I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

A newcomer to Boys' Lacrosse, and the only girl on the team, I felt like an outsider, unsure I would ever find my place. But with each pass, each sprint, each pick, I found myself inching closer to a group of individuals who would become more than teammates—they would become my family. I grew up in California, where I first encountered girls' lacrosse and fell in love. Over time, I dedicated myself to the sport and was eventually guaranteed a spot on the Varsity team. When Covid hit and lacrosse stopped, my parents told me that we were moving to a small town in Colorado called Crested Butte. Once we moved, I realized there wasn’t a girls' lacrosse team within two hours. I decided to join the boys' team. Everyone questioned me, but I stuck through the whole season. It was rough, not just the only girl, but also being a freshman and getting picked on while working my heart out. During my sophomore year, I thought I would be instantly accepted–I was wrong. It was harder than the previous year. People became comfortable with me, leading to meaner things said and more pressure to excel. I nearly quit multiple times, yet when a two year-old girl and her father came up and said, “My daughter wanted to let you know that she looks up to you!” I had found motivation to keep playing. For a small moment, I realized that I can be a girl and play a man's sport. In my Junior year, I had fewer expectations of my teammates. Thinking I would be an outsider again, I gained my teammates' respect. During one game, I was berated by the other team for being a girl. It was tough, but during the third quarter my coach said, “Let's get Luca a goal.” Gaining possession, I got a perfect pass. Everything set up perfectly. I turned, shot, and the goalie blocked it. After bad-mouthing me all game, I fought for the ball. Being right there, I picked up the ball and scored. Life slowed, and I couldn’t believe what happened, making the first goal as the only girl. Everyone cheered, and my whole team came over to celebrate! Once everything had calmed down, I walked up to the goalie. I said, “I'm a girl and I just scored.” I didn’t need to taunt; the satisfaction was enough. Later, I talked to my teacher about how although I was accepted, I didn't feel respected on the team. I felt I officially made history, as the only girl on the team for all four years and making the first goal by a girl. Yet, I didn't feel recognized. I was wrong. He told me that many of his students, my teammates, talked highly of me and respected me for having the guts to be the only girl on the team. In the end, it's surprising how much respect others hold for us, even if we don’t fully recognize it.

Living in a small mountain town, seasonal depression is real, and turning to addiction is an easy way to “escape”. A challenge not only our town faces is not having opportunities to find help that is judgment free. During my sophomore year, I felt very alone, not having any healthy outlets to express my emotions. Some “friends” ended up influencing me to start smoking weed and drinking alcohol. I started to find drugs as an outlet to all of my pain and problems. After a few weeks of relying on drugs, I ended up having a really hard week and decided to ask some of those “friends” to smoke. They ended up bringing other stuff that was much stronger and purposely gave me a lot more of it than I should've taken. I ended up being too out of it to get home. I felt like I was a robot, barely even remembering to breathe, let alone walk. In my disoriented state I decided to call 911. By then, I wasn't able to speak and could hardly get out the words to explain where I was. By the time the police and ambulance got there, I was crawling up the stairs heaving to be able to breathe. During this time, I was also blacking out and I was stuck in my head. From what I remember–I was in a state of darkness–I genuinely thought I was in hell. But after what felt like an eternity, I felt this pure kind of force pushing me out of that state. Fast forward to when I woke up at home. It was a gut wrenching feeling knowing I not only disappointed myself but also my parents. From then on, I made a promise to myself that I would change for the better and turn my life around. Something that helped me get through this was ceramics, I was able to take all my pain out on clay and express things I could never put into words. Through this my whole portfolio this year was on world and human pain, many of the pieces represented this dark period in my life. I was not only to get out my trapped emotions but also help others identify their pain through mine. I believe that we as a society can help others through addiction by providing free, non judgemental options to express emotions that can also help spark conversations about addiction. If I had options when I was in that dark time in my life. I would've been able to prevent myself from everything that happened.