Undergraduate / 'The lifter and yell' - I need Common App Critique [3]

This is the Common App, and I chose choice #1. Please be as honest and critical as possible. Thank you and God bless!
1. Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.

January 13th, 2004. I looked at my bed and saw my Gameboy. Instead of embracing it, I viciously threw it on the ground. What was I doing, wasting my life with the things of the world? I was born again. God had given me a new lease on life, and I was not going to let it go to waste.

My church was moving, and my eight-year old self volunteered to help out. At one point, a group of teenagers in my church hopped on the lifter of an innocent moving truck, and I joined right in. This truck was the industry standard, containing a large trunk, a lifter, and plenty of graffiti. I propped myself down at the edge of the truck, filled with ebullience and wonder. As the lifter traversed upwards to meet up with the base of the trunk, I oscillated my legs and gazed upon the white, fluffy clouds.

AAAAHHHHHH!!! I let out a deafening yell as the lifter began pulverizing my left ankle. The pain was unlike anything I had felt in my life. The girl who was operating the lifter stopped the machine in a heartbeat, but the damage was done. My mind grew numb to the pain, and I fell into unconsciousness.

I regained consciousness at the waiting room in the hospital. I had hoped that this was all just a horrible nightmare. I reluctantly opened my eyes to see a grotesque monstrosity of a leg. Yes, this was very real. A thousand possibilities raced through my brain. Is my leg broken? Will I need a wheelchair? Can I still attend school? While I juggled these questions, my mom began to pray. I followed suit and began to pray to God.

Fortunately, my injury was not life-altering. The doctor notified me that I had severe bruises, but my bones were untouched. I would need physical therapy and further treatments, but the x-rays revealed nothing fatal. Just before I could be wheeled out, the amiable doctor said to me, "One second. Had that lifter kept going for just one more second, you would have lost your leg." I was young, but I understood that message in its entirety. Even at a tender age, I came to realize that the human body was fragile and vulnerable. After this

incident, I knew I would never swing my legs back and forth again. Nor would I look at a truck the same way again.

My accident gave me the genuine inspiration for my dream. God saved me from a life of disability, yet there were still myriad people who did not end up so lucky. I pray that He will use me to shine exuberance and assistance upon the disabled and the needy in the near future.

Anyone who sees my scar today will probably come up with terms like "grotesque" or "deformed". In my eyes, this scar is a mark left by the almighty God.

Undergraduate / 'The Underground Home' - Michigan Essay Critique [3]

Please be as critical and as honest as possible. Thank you.

Describe the unique qualities that attract you to the specific undergraduate College or School (including preferred admission and dual degree programs) to which you are applying at the University of Michigan. How would that curriculum support your interests?

The Underground Home

"Moses! We know you're in there! Open up!" my "friends" roared. Having been exposed, I locked my door and pressed against it to covertly conceal myself from their field of vision. My new adversary added, "So this is where he lives. His parents must be beggars or something." I shut my eyes and sighed with depression. My confidential secret was in the open, and there was nothing I could do to mitigate it.

Residing in a basement for ten years has been extremely difficult to acknowledge. Being thankful for my life has got to be the hardest mountain I have had to climb in my seventeen years on planet earth. As a matter of fact, I believe I am still reaching for the apex of this mountain. Over the course of a decade, this one question made me as bitter as a steamy cup of ginseng tea.

Why me? That was the question. Unfortunately, my dad was the answer. Having the authority of head pastor of a small church, my father had no palpable source of income. My mother steadily balanced two jobs at times to provide oxygen for the family. At times like this, I pleaded with my father to quit the ministry and get a job. Any job with a salary would have sufficed. Whenever friends from church or school would ask to come over, I would regretfully reject their requests. Afterwards, I would curse under my breath. More importantly, I would curse my father. The father-son bond had been strained, but one incident during junior year really ignited a conflagration of my relationship with my dad.

"What! Why would you buy a $100 meal for a group of homeless men at the shelter?" My mother was filled with sullenness and anxiety as she interrogated my father for more information, but I had heard enough. I stormed into my prison-cell of a room and began to weep. I never realized that teardrops could be so salty. The family and the church were both financially struggling, yet he had the audacity to spend scarce resources on an incidental dinner. I looked down at my clothes. My sweater was a hand-me-down from my brother Aaron, and my jeans came from a donation box. My cantankerous emotions flared up to its zenith.

As I prayed, my resentment placated. I looked at my clothes again. They were second-hand, but otherwise clean. I had a home to go to every night. I had the luxuries of an indoor bathroom, an adequate bed, three square meals a day, and a family that genuinely loved me. I thought over my father's actions. Yes, he did spend money we did not have, but I understood the message he was trying to get through. The $100 dollars meant more to them than it did to us. My father's benevolence showed that someone cared for them. As I began to pray, my mind came across Proverbs chapter 22 verse 9, which says, "Whoever has a bountiful eye will be blessed, for he shares his bread with the poor." Another teardrop rolled down my cheek, but this time, it was a tear of veneration.

I aspire to continue to overcome internal and external challenges with a University of Michigan education. The strict standards as well as the amiable Ann Arbor community will only bolster my foundation to build my future upon. My personal dream is to assist penurious students as well as the homeless and disabled community so that they will be able to overcome the labyrinths in their lives.