Prompt: Saint Augustine said, "Lord, let me know myself, let me know you." Describe a relationship that has helped you to know yourself better.
Hello there! I'm currently writing my supplement essay for Villanova, and honestly, I am burned out. My main objective is to describe how my relationship with my Grandmother helped me understand the importance of genuineness. But, I'm having a really hard time finding a way for it to play out nicely. I really hope you guys can give some tips, and I would be happy to return the favor!
Grandmother was the epitome of the Southern Belle- Sweet and generous but had blistering steel coating her words. She was sharp and quick, whether with her reprimands, or the wooden spoon she saved for when her kids were being especially disobedient. Her eyes could catch all, and her influence spread deep and true throughout our family, like the roots of an oak tree. Grandmother said what she wanted, and only did what she wasn't. There wasn't an ounce of her that was artificial or manufactured- she was 100% genuine.
By the I'd grown old enough to recognize such intricacies in personality, Grandmother had shrunken in the bitter way that only time can do to a person.Shrunken literally, that is; Her constant stream of sass was as plentiful as ever, but her tall, intimidating stature had bent and withered to a mere shadow of its former self. The great Oak of the family had lost its battle against the greatest opponent in existence- time.
In contrast with the Great Oak, I was perhaps a buttercup. I could write a list a mile long with the praises I had received for being sweet, or kind, or a never-ending source of compassion. It was a title I had taken to wearing as a badge- the same badge that urged me to assist whoever it is in need, at any time, no matter the inconvenience to myself. I can admit, now, that these actions weren't completely genuine- At times I could care less about one's lost cat or their failing grade in Math. Instead, it was he stream of compliments I would no-doubt later receive that encouraged me to always reach out.
When a series of circumstances pushed me to live alongside her during middle school, I was sure that a new opportunity to show my genuine 'selflessness' was presenting itself. What I wasn't prepared for, however, was to be pushed to limits I didn't know I had. She requested things at a rapid-fire pace that quickly left me worn out. I had begun to act more irritable- snapping at others, and had taken to refusing my responsibilities. The shift in my attitude was noticeable and had led to a sit-down talk in Grandmother's room. After a long deliberation, she had confided in me that she was aware of my reluctance. Mya annoyance was noticeable and knowing that she knew made me feel a degree of embracement that was foreign. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do- it's alright to say no and to get frustrated. I'm only a human, with limitations.
I've come to accept that I'm not an endless fountain of positivity. I am, instead, only human; And like any human, I get angry, frustrated, and at times, impatient. I've begun to question the requests I get from others- Am I doing this because I care, or because I want a compliment? It's definitely hard, but I hope one day I achieve a level of ingenuity that could even rival my grandmother's.
I still take care of my grandmother. Even now, at a time where essays and recommendations take up my time, her incessant knocking is a bit more than irritating. But, when I do eventually open my door and descend the stairs , I'll now that my "Yes, Nana" will be completely genuine.
Hello there! I'm currently writing my supplement essay for Villanova, and honestly, I am burned out. My main objective is to describe how my relationship with my Grandmother helped me understand the importance of genuineness. But, I'm having a really hard time finding a way for it to play out nicely. I really hope you guys can give some tips, and I would be happy to return the favor!
Grandmother was the epitome of the Southern Belle- Sweet and generous but had blistering steel coating her words. She was sharp and quick, whether with her reprimands, or the wooden spoon she saved for when her kids were being especially disobedient. Her eyes could catch all, and her influence spread deep and true throughout our family, like the roots of an oak tree. Grandmother said what she wanted, and only did what she wasn't. There wasn't an ounce of her that was artificial or manufactured- she was 100% genuine.
By the I'd grown old enough to recognize such intricacies in personality, Grandmother had shrunken in the bitter way that only time can do to a person.Shrunken literally, that is; Her constant stream of sass was as plentiful as ever, but her tall, intimidating stature had bent and withered to a mere shadow of its former self. The great Oak of the family had lost its battle against the greatest opponent in existence- time.
In contrast with the Great Oak, I was perhaps a buttercup. I could write a list a mile long with the praises I had received for being sweet, or kind, or a never-ending source of compassion. It was a title I had taken to wearing as a badge- the same badge that urged me to assist whoever it is in need, at any time, no matter the inconvenience to myself. I can admit, now, that these actions weren't completely genuine- At times I could care less about one's lost cat or their failing grade in Math. Instead, it was he stream of compliments I would no-doubt later receive that encouraged me to always reach out.
When a series of circumstances pushed me to live alongside her during middle school, I was sure that a new opportunity to show my genuine 'selflessness' was presenting itself. What I wasn't prepared for, however, was to be pushed to limits I didn't know I had. She requested things at a rapid-fire pace that quickly left me worn out. I had begun to act more irritable- snapping at others, and had taken to refusing my responsibilities. The shift in my attitude was noticeable and had led to a sit-down talk in Grandmother's room. After a long deliberation, she had confided in me that she was aware of my reluctance. Mya annoyance was noticeable and knowing that she knew made me feel a degree of embracement that was foreign. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do- it's alright to say no and to get frustrated. I'm only a human, with limitations.
I've come to accept that I'm not an endless fountain of positivity. I am, instead, only human; And like any human, I get angry, frustrated, and at times, impatient. I've begun to question the requests I get from others- Am I doing this because I care, or because I want a compliment? It's definitely hard, but I hope one day I achieve a level of ingenuity that could even rival my grandmother's.
I still take care of my grandmother. Even now, at a time where essays and recommendations take up my time, her incessant knocking is a bit more than irritating. But, when I do eventually open my door and descend the stairs , I'll now that my "Yes, Nana" will be completely genuine.
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