I believe in not giving up!
It all started off when I was eight. My world was perfect until I was 8.

When I was just eight years old my father was diagnosed as a quadriplegic. My household fell in a stage of depression and there was no money coming into the house. My brother and I were confused out our minds. We wore the same clothes for days, we slept in puddles of sweat and we tip-toed through the night with hot candle sticks to provide our light.

For the first time in my life we relied on others to live. Family and friends helped pay our bills, the church congregation kept us in their prayers, while the thought of giving up sank deep into our minds. Visiting Pops in the hospital was a heartbreaker. The smell, the surroundings, the sick people, and the wheelchair propped up next his bed.
I was confused.

I was wondering why he never answered my questions, why he never rubbed my head or even slightly punched me in my chest and told me old fishing stories.
I was confused.

I wondered why he never came home to watch Monday night football with me. I was confused.
But I finally came to my senses.

I came to realize that I was the future for my family. I believed that we had nothing, because people told me I had nothing. My family continued to fall apart. People told me that I would never be anything, that we would never be anything. Still, to this day, I strive for the best. I may slack off at times but what keeps me on track is going home and hearing the wheels of the wheelchair bumping its way through the tight hallways.

I had nothing; until he took his first step. It seemed as if a huge burden was kicked of my shoulder. There I saw his first smile, his first movements and I felt his warm arms embrace me to his chest for the first time in two years. I had finally felt his heart beat ticking away while trying to remember precious moments like these.

People told me I had nothing, but my way of making it through is knowing that I have overcome an obstacle that many people don’t experience.
I believe in not giving up, that is why I try my best to get my education. That is why I minister to young people in similar situations. If I had given up I would not have had the opportunity to come to an excellent school. If I had given up I would have been a statistic.
But I didn’t.
Unfortunately, I had my own experience!

I played high-school football, I was known for my quick feet and running back vision. As I was running full speed down field I hit the opposing team’s receiver. It felt as if I had hit a wall. I was unconscious for minutes. I woke up to a numb, stingy feeling across my entire body. Rushed to the hospital to take precautionary procedures I was frightened.
Not able to walk for a day. I felt my dad’s pain.

Two weeks after, I rushed backed on field ready to play. As I was standing in line for my turn to hit my teammate, many things flashed before my eyes.
I saw my hit, my dad’s accident, my first step, and my dad’s first step.
The whistle blew; I ran full speed towards my opponent. Our helmets hit, our pads clashed. Slowly rising from the grass I felt the glory of not giving up. I felt the glory of being on top.