I am passionate about music because it has been one of the most consistent and healing forces in my life. Music has always been more than a hobby to me. It has been a refuge, a language for emotions I did not know how to express, and a reminder that I was not alone. When life felt overwhelming, songs gave me space to process what I was feeling. Worship music especially helped me understand that God was near, even when my circumstances felt uncertain. As I grew older, my love for music became intertwined with my faith. I realized that music is powerful because it connects truth to emotion. A song can reach places in the heart that a conversation sometimes cannot. It can sit with someone in their lowest moments and gently remind them of hope. That is what music did for me, and it is why I feel called to create it for others. Today, I serve as a youth leader, and that role has deeply shaped my passion and direction. Working with students has opened my eyes to how many young people are quietly struggling with anxiety, depression, insecurity, and feelings of isolation. So many of them feel pressure to appear fine while battling heavy thoughts internally. I see pieces of my younger self in them, and it fuels my desire to show them they are not alone. I plan to give back to youth through my career by using music as a tool for connection and healing. As a Christian songwriter and worship leader, I want to write songs that speak honestly about mental health while still anchoring hope in Christ. I believe young people need music that acknowledges their struggles without leaving them there. They need reminders that their feelings are valid, but they are not abandoned. Through lyrics rooted in truth and compassion, I want students to hear that their pain does not disqualify them from purpose. Beyond writing music, I want to continue investing directly in young people. Whether through youth ministry, workshops, songwriting mentorship, or worship nights specifically designed for students, my goal is to create safe spaces where students feel seen and heard. Music can open the door to conversations about mental health that might otherwise feel intimidating. When a student hears a song that reflects their experience, it often becomes the starting point for deeper healing. Ultimately, my passion for music is inseparable from my heart for the next generation. I do not want to simply perform songs. I want to build bridges. I want to use my platform to advocate for mental health awareness within the Church and to remind young people that faith and struggle can coexist. Most importantly, I want every student I encounter to walk away knowing they are loved by God, valued, and never alone. Music changed my life by giving me hope. Now I want to spend my life using music to give others the same hope.

Education is important to me because it represents growth, opportunity, and faithfulness to the calling God has placed on my life. I entered foster care at eight years old and was adopted at twelve, and those early years shaped the way I view stability and opportunity. There were seasons when my future felt uncertain. Because of that, I do not take the privilege of education lightly. To me, learning is not just about earning a degree. It is about building a foundation that will support the life and ministry I feel called to pursue. I am currently working toward a bachelor’s degree in Christian Studies with an emphasis in Worship Ministry, and I am on track to become the first in my family to earn a college degree. That reality carries deep meaning for me. It represents perseverance. It represents answered prayers. It represents how far God has brought me. Education is proof that my beginning does not determine my ending. It is a tangible reminder that growth is possible and that hard work, supported by faith, leads to transformation. Education also matters to me because I believe calling should be cultivated with excellence. I feel called to Christian songwriting and worship ministry, and I want to steward that calling well. Studying theology, leadership, and ministry equips me to lead worship with both heart and understanding. It deepens my knowledge of Scripture and strengthens my ability to communicate truth through music. I do not want to rely on talent alone. I want to be grounded, prepared, and equipped to serve the Church with integrity and wisdom. Beyond personal achievement, education allows me to expand my influence in meaningful ways. It gives me credibility and confidence as I step into leadership roles. It challenges me to think critically, grow spiritually, and develop discipline. Each class I complete is another step toward the future I am building, not just for myself, but for the people I hope to serve through ministry. The legacy I hope to leave is one of faith, resilience, and purpose. I want my life to reflect God's faithfulness in every season. Through music and worship, I hope to leave behind songs that point people to Jesus and remind them that their stories matter. I want to be known as someone who used her voice to encourage others, who led with humility, and who pursued excellence not for recognition, but for impact. I also hope my journey inspires others who come from uncertain beginnings. If becoming the first in my family to graduate can encourage someone else to pursue their education or calling, then the legacy extends beyond me. Ultimately, I want everything I accomplish through education and ministry to reflect gratitude. My degree will not just symbolize academic success. It will symbolize perseverance, faith, and the decision to keep moving forward. More than anything, I hope the legacy I leave points back to Jesus. Education is important to me because it equips me to serve Him more faithfully, and the life I build through it is meant to honor Him in every way.

This opportunity is deeply meaningful to me because it represents more than academic or professional advancement. It represents redemption. It represents how far God has brought me. At eight years old, I entered foster care due to abuse and neglect. I did not understand why my life felt so broken so early. I carried confusion, fear, and questions about my worth. Stability felt unfamiliar, and hope sometimes felt distant. But even in those years, God was quietly at work in ways I could not yet see. Music became my refuge during that time. When my circumstances felt overwhelming, worship songs reminded me that there was a God who saw me, even when I felt unseen. At twelve years old, I was adopted by parents who changed the trajectory of my life. Through their love, patience, and consistency, I began to experience what safety truly felt like. They did not just provide a home. They modeled Christlike love in action. Their faith was steady, and through them I began to understand that my story was not defined by trauma but by redemption. My faith became personal as I grew older. It was no longer just something I was taught, but something I clung to. There were moments when healing felt slow and when insecurities resurfaced. During those seasons, I leaned into prayer, Scripture, and worship. I discovered that faith is not the absence of struggle but the decision to trust God in the middle of it. Worship became the place where my pain met God’s presence. Songwriting allowed me to process my story honestly while still declaring truth over it. Today, I am pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Christian Studies with an emphasis in Worship Ministry. I am on track to become the first in my family to earn a college degree. That milestone carries profound meaning for me. There were seasons in my childhood when higher education did not feel like a realistic possibility. Yet through perseverance and unwavering faith, God has opened doors I once thought were closed. Each class, each opportunity to lead worship, and each song I write feels like a testimony of His faithfulness. The challenges I have overcome have shaped my resilience, but it is my faith that has shaped my perspective. Instead of asking why my story began the way it did, I now ask how God can use it. I believe He has called me to minister through music, to write songs that speak to brokenness while pointing to hope, and to lead worship in a way that invites others into healing. As I look toward the future, I plan to continue allowing my faith to guide every decision. I want my career as a Christian songwriter and worship leader to be rooted in humility and obedience. My goal is not simply success, but impact. I want to create music that reflects biblical truth, builds up the Church, and reaches those who feel forgotten. My journey has not been easy, but it has been marked by grace. Every triumph I have achieved has been sustained by faith. And as I pursue even greater heights, I do so with confidence, knowing that the same God who carried me through my hardest seasons will continue to lead me forward.

Collaboration in my intended field of Christian songwriting and worship ministry means far more to me than simply working together to create music. It means building something that could not exist without shared faith, shared vulnerability, and shared purpose. In worship, especially, collaboration is not about the spotlight or recognition. It is about unity. It is about hearts aligning before they ever align musically. Music has always been deeply personal to me, but as I have grown in my studies and faith, I have learned that it is also deeply communal. I am currently pursuing a degree in Christian Studies with an emphasis in Worship Ministry, and one of the greatest lessons I am learning is that worship is never meant to be a solo act. Even when one person stands on a stage, it takes a team praying, practicing, planning, and preparing together to create an atmosphere where people can encounter Jesus. Collaboration means surrendering personal preference for the sake of something greater. It means asking not “How do I sound?” but “How can we serve the Church together?” Some of my most inspiring experiences have come from preparing for worship nights and church services. There is something powerful about sitting in rehearsal with other musicians, working through harmonies, adjusting arrangements, and praying over the setlist together. Those moments before anyone else enters the room often become the most meaningful. We talk about what God is teaching us. We share burdens. We laugh. We encourage one another. The music becomes more than notes and chords. It becomes a shared offering. Songwriting has also taught me the beauty of collaboration. While many of my songs begin in quiet, personal moments with Jesus, they often grow stronger when I invite others into the process. Co-writing forces me to listen. It challenges me to see Scripture from another perspective. It pushes me creatively and spiritually. When another writer adds a lyric that captures truth in a way I could not articulate, it reminds me that the body of Christ is designed to function together. We sharpen one another. Through my studies, I am learning that collaboration in worship ministry also requires humility and theological grounding. It means making sure the music we create is not just emotionally moving but biblically rooted. Professors and mentors have modeled this for me by giving feedback on song choices, leadership style, and even lyrical content. Those moments of correction and growth are forms of collaboration, too. They shape me into a more thoughtful and responsible leader. Ultimately, collaboration in my field means reflecting the unity of the Church. Worship is a collective response to Jesus. When we work together, whether through music, prayer, production, or planning, we create space for others to experience Him. Some of my most life-changing moments have not happened while singing alone, but while standing alongside other believers, voices blending together in a declaration of truth. Collaboration reminds me that ministry is never about building my platform. It is about building the Kingdom. And in that shared pursuit, I have found not only creative growth but deep relationships that strengthen my faith and calling.

Music has changed my life in more ways than I can fully put into words. Before it was a calling or a ministry, music was my escape. As a child, when life felt unstable and unsafe, music became the one place that felt steady. I entered foster care at eight years old due to abuse and neglect, and during that time, there were many emotions I did not know how to process. I did not always have the language to explain what I was feeling, but somehow, music understood. When everything around me felt chaotic, melodies felt safe. Songs became a quiet refuge where I could breathe. At first, music was simply survival. I would sing alone and listen to songs that helped me feel less isolated. It gave me an outlet when I felt unheard. It gave me comfort when I felt uncertain about my future. Without realizing it, those moments were shaping me. Music allowed me to express pain without having to fully explain it. It reminded me that even in brokenness, there could still be beauty. When I was adopted at twelve years old, music began to shift from being just an escape to becoming a gift. My adoptive parents encouraged my love for singing and supported my growth. They gave me the confidence to use my voice rather than hide it. Slowly, music transformed from something that helped me cope into something that helped me connect. I began to see that it was not only about getting through hard days. It was about discovering purpose. As my faith deepened, worship music became especially meaningful. Leading worship showed me that music could do more than comfort me. It could minister to others. The same type of songs that once helped me survive were now helping others feel seen and known. Writing my own songs allowed me to process my story through the lens of God’s faithfulness. It taught me that my pain did not disqualify me from purpose. In many ways, it prepared me for it. Music has also given me direction. It has shaped my academic and career goals and led me to pursue a degree in Christian Studies with an emphasis in Worship Ministry. It has opened doors to leadership opportunities and strengthened my confidence in who I am. For a long time, I struggled with feeling invisible. Music reminded me that my voice matters and that I was created with intention. Looking back, music has been present in every major chapter of my life, through trauma, through healing, through adoption, and through calling. It has been my refuge, my therapy, my prayer, and now my ministry. Music did not just change what I do. It changed how I see myself. It helped turn my pain into purpose and my story into something that can bring hope to others.

The event that has had the biggest impact on my life was being placed into foster care at eight years old, due to abuse and neglect. At eight, I didn’t have the words to explain trauma. I just knew that life felt unsafe and uncertain. Everything familiar changed overnight, and I carried fear and confusion that I didn’t know how to process. The people who were supposed to protect me we’re breaking me, and it left with more hurt and confusion than I believe I was ever meant to process. I felt like a little girl whose dreams had already been broken before she even had the chance to fully dream them. During that time, music became my escape. I always loved music because it gave me somewhere to go when my reality felt too heavy. When things felt chaotic, music was steady. When I didn’t feel heard, music listened. Singing along to songs or quietly creating my own melodies gave me a sense of control and comfort that I didn’t have anywhere else. Even before I understood it, music was becoming my lifeline. When I was twelve years old, my life changed again; but this time in a beautiful way. I was adopted by the most incredible parents. They didn’t just give me a place to live; they gave me safety, stability, and unconditional love. They chose me. That choice began rebuilding parts of me that had been worn down by years of hurt. My parents were patient with me. They understood that healing doesn’t happen overnight. They created a home where I could finally exhale. For the first time, I experienced consistency; love that didn’t disappear when things were hard. They saw potential in me before I could see it in myself. Foster care broke me in painful ways, but adoption restored me in powerful ones. My parents took a child who felt broken and helped her see that she was never beyond restoration. They taught me that love is a choice, that faith is steady, and that broken beginnings do not determine final outcomes. They also nurtured my love for music. What had once been my escape slowly became my calling. They encouraged me to sing, to write, and eventually to lead. Through worship, I began to realize that God had been present in my story all along. The same music that once helped me survive was now helping me minister to others. My pain was no longer just something I carried; it became something God could and would use. Now I use that to tell my story to those who have seen similar life problems. Today, I am a musician, a worship leader, and a songwriter. I am pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Christian Studies with an emphasis in Worship Ministry, and I am on my way to becoming the first in my family to earn a Bachelor's degree. That little girl who once felt forgotten is now stepping into leadership, faith, and purpose. Entering foster care was one of the hardest experiences of my life, but it shaped me in ways I now understand. Being adopted reshaped my future entirely. My parents took a child who felt broken and helped her see that she was never beyond love or redemption. The greatest impact on my life has not just been the pain of my past, but the love that followed it. Because of my parents and because of the refuge I found in music, I am not defined by what happened to me. I am defined by who I am becoming.