The children ran atop the dirt and rocks with their bare feet in the golden haze. We spoke a different language than they did and their experiences vastly differed from our own, but our sun sank into the horizon in the same way that theirs did and all of our laughter rang the same; we were children in the same vibrant earth. My mission trip to the Yucatan taught me firsthand how to abandon my selfishness and instead commit the entirety of my time to working for the benefit of those around me. On this trip, service came in many different forms, from painting churches to giving a giggling child a push on the swingset; and I loved every second of it. I loved communicating with a smile and a laugh because that was the only universal language. I loved ending each day with dried sweat and sunscreen on my brow, knowing that all the work I did was done not for my glory but for the well being of those in different worlds than I. I loved serving; but once we landed back in Orlando, I was faced with a void. I didn’t know how to navigate day-to-day compassion and servitude without a grand and altruistic, but designated, act. I had to relearn that compassion is more than mission trips, more than lending your friend a pencil, more than picking up loose trash; compassion is a continual choice to humble oneself below others. Apart from a feeling and a choice, compassion also takes the form of effort. As faith becomes dead without works, feeling sorrow for another person is worthless without turning that thought into action. My empathy called me to action during the most unique volunteer opportunity I have experienced in my high school career. At Hope and Home, a foster care agency, I was able to work in childcare and assist in the fundraisers. Each child I met, even infants, had a “record” listing every type of trauma that they have endured, and each child’s record was heavy. I would rock the babies to sleep, eat goldfish with the toddlers and dance or play dress up with the older kids, knowing that all of them have lived more lives than most. Hearing the gruesome memories of children not old enough to tie their own shoes are perspectives I could never unhear. Some of the children had been born addicted to cocaine, some had been stabbed, all of them had been extremely neglected and abused, but every child still faced the day with a smile on their face and a skip in their step. These children motivate me to embody the compassion I feel for them. With the aim of an indefinite life of servitude, in the upcoming school year I will be pursuing a Bachelor's Degree in Social Work, and then a Juris Doctor Degree in order to become a Guardian Ad Litem; a lawyer to advocate for children who cannot advocate for themselves. I aspire to live and breathe a life devoted to the wellbeing of others. More than that, though, I am fiercely motivated to make a difference, maybe in the lives of thousands of foster kids, or maybe in the life of one child, but a difference nonetheless.