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Grandpa David

  When my parents first moved to the United States, they didn't know anyone except for their neighbor David Mitchell. He was a retired construction manager with a few lonely strands of hair on his head and a big smile. He helped my parents settle down in their home, coached them with their troubled English, introduced them to his church, and even taught them how to drive.

  When I arrived to America to live with my parents, he was at the airport, greeting me with outstretched arms. I instinctively called him Grandpa David, and he instantly became my favorite person in the world. Although I was shy and couldn't understand anything he said, I felt very welcomed as he hugged me and presented me with a fluffy teddy bear. Later, he bought me phonics books and taught me the alphabet song. When my English improved, we would tell each other stories every day.

  To my parents, he was their savior, helping them when they first arrived to a foreign country, familiarizing them with American customs. To me, he was a role model, frequently making contributions to charity and always putting others before himself.

  When he died, he donated his body to Harvard Medical School for research. This generous action moved me, because even in death, he was still dedicated to helping others, trying to improve their lives.

  Inspired by his life of altruistic deeds, I made up my mind to take a more active role in my community. I joined the Teen Advisory Board at my local library. This involvement allowed me to be the teenage representative of the library and make decisions on behalf of my peers. I worked with a group of enthusiastic students from different schools to order new books for the library and plan children's activities while we shared our diverse experiences over hot chocolate and brownies.

  Although this was a small step into the world of volunteering, I gained a sense that my actions were meaningful to my community. Motivated by this success, I decided to forge ahead and participate in Habitat for Humanity. Working on a housing project in Santa Ana, I was instructed to paint doors. The tiring task of moving my arms up and down repeatedly for eight hours provided a sense of accomplishment. I realized that I wasn't just engaging in community service, but I was actually helping underprivileged families. My small effort helped four families achieve their dream homes.

  This experience changed my perspective about community service. In the past, I had thought that I was too small, too simple, too powerless to make a difference in the community. But now I knew that all actions, even small ones such as painting doors, make a difference if they come from the heart. I've learned that community service not only benefits the community, but it also benefits me. It has made me more caring, more grateful, and more considerate in everything I do. I want to use this new sense of purpose all my life.

  For this reason, I have decided on a career in medicine where I can provide hope and care to those who are suffering, so that not only can I benefit from the joy of giving, but others can also benefit from my nurturing. I want to dedicate myself to my community in a different way from Grandpa David, but with a similar spirit of community and generosity. I am grateful to him for the example he had set for me, and I am certain that he will be my inspiration in college and my motivation in medical school.  

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