Service is an integral building block to communities all around the world. Assisting others whether it be with one’s time, effort, or money is the basis of all progression that we make as a society. However service, to me, can also be passive. Servitude doesn’t always have to be a grandiose gesture that screams for attention. Sometimes the most meaningful acts are ones that are quietly made with the same noble intentions. Growing up in a large family, acts of service were a rigid expectation that kept the peace of the household intact. We all had to do our part to chip in with chores and mediation of futile quarrels. However, I had an even greater role to take on. My eldest brother, EJ, is disabled. His Down Syndrome limits him substantially in life. He will never be able to drive, live on his own, or provide for himself. While this has never seemed to bother him- his laughter never failing to fill up a room and his positivity never wavering- it has weighed heavily on my heart. My parents have done their very best to provide him with everything that he has wished for over the years. In addition to him, they are tasked with 5 other children who also have medical needs; a daughter with Turner’s syndrome, another daughter with Celiac disease, and yet another daughter with a Chiari malformation to name a few. Dealing with all these complications was no easy feat physically, emotionally, or financially. My parents weren’t magical beings who can make a wish come true at the wave of a wand; I became aware of this fact at a young age. Therefore, I made it my mission to make myself as easy as possible. Preceding my own recent diagnosis of a neurological disorder, all I had wrong with me was a broken bone here and there, so I felt it was my responsibility to allow my parents to focus their attention on my siblings who needed it. For me, service took on many different acts. While making sure my sibling had all that they needed, I made sure that I was able to be as independent as possible. I braved elementary Open-House’s, Daddy-daughter donut day, and bring-your parent-to-school days alone. When it came time to go on our class field trip to Sky Ranch, I had my friend’s parents who chaperoned. It wasn’t the best feeling when my mother went to my little sister’s and older sister’s trip, but I understood because of their medical needs. I also made sure to never ask for more than I needed. I watched as my brother EJ got grand Christmas presents and solo trips to see family and felt genuinely happy for him. While I was not always pleased with this configuration of dynamics within my family- many times I have felt secondary or unimportant- I maintained my servitude in the only way I knew: understanding. I understood the way that things were worked like that for a reason. I understood that perfection was not always attainable. I understood that my parents love for me wasn’t any less than. It took me the better half of my childhood to accept these facts, but left me nevertheless contented. My service to my family has allowed my siblings- EJ especially- to have the happiness that they deserved. In doing this, I have become a more independent, sympathetic, and altruistic person. Serving my family never needed to be active and loud; I provided in the way I was able to and I am grateful for the lessons that it brought.