An Introduction
When I was a child, my favorite question to be asked by an adult was, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I always had an answer ready, backed by logical reasoning and facts to prove my genuine interest.
The funny thing was, the answer itself would change, constantly. I bounced from one grand ambition to the next as I learned about new topics and got bored with old ones. But the result of sharing my latest interest was always the same: a room full of impressed adults applauding a bright child who seemed entirely certain of her future.
At nine, I lived by a creek and accumulated a pretty hefty rock collection. Back then, my answer was geologist. In middle school, a stint on the debate team convinced me I was destined for law school. In early high school, realizing I’d already been a vegetarian for nearly a decade, I became treasurer of the conservation club and told everyone I would be an environmental activist. By senior year, after sweeping the highest grade in anatomy and physiology, I was certain I would become a doctor.
No matter the career choice, I was always certain. I spoke about each potential path with such passion and purpose that every. single. one. felt like my true life’s calling. It certainly didn’t help that I received plenty of validation from adults impressed by my apparent career convictions.
That is exactly why, when I walked into my freshman year of college and was confronted with a choice among over 100 majors, I became wildly uncomfortable with certainty. Suddenly, my certainty meant something. Suddenly, my certainty needed to last.
. . .
Yesterday, I received my bachelor’s degree in the mail. I almost cried. Thinking about how lost I felt four years ago. And how settled I feel now. That very expensive piece of paper represented a lot. Like the three jobs I worked while balancing classes and the long nights studying, but most importantly, it represented my choice—a public service degree [specifically in Homeland Security].
Through lots of trial and error, I eventually found a path that felt right. Looking back, my childhood ambitions weren’t as disconnected as they seemed. My shifts from geologist to lawyer to doctor all shared a common desire to better understand the world and find a way to be useful to the people in it. A public service degree was the well-rounded choice, and the idea of doing something meaningful excited me.
And after spending four years gaining the technical skills necessary to earn a public service degree, I want to be intentional about continuing my education and backing my current skill set with character traits that match the human responsibility of a career in public service.
A desire that led me to choose to spend the next year doing a full-time volunteer service. Volunteering offers a unique opportunity to enhance both my public service capabilities and my personal skills simultaneously, and I am excited to begin my year of service in August with the Young Adults Volunteer (YAV) program in Seoul, Korea.
Many things drew me to this specific program –including a testimonial that I hope to share in a later post– However, the main drive behind choosing YAV is the four core tenets volunteers agree to live by during their year of service:
- A commitment to simple living, which shifts focus away from material desires and toward cultivating inner discipline, deeper relationships with others, pursuits of knowledge, and a connection with nature.
- A cross-cultural mission, where individuals are called to engage with diverse communities to develop a level of global awareness and adaptability
- Leadership development through faith in action, which cultivates leadership through daily, real-world service and mutual accountability.
- Vocational discernment, which provides the invaluable space to listen, reflect, and evaluate a long-term path.
Guided by my personal goals, these four tenets seem to offer a balance of discipline, leadership, and empathy-building that would create the best foundation for a future public service career. I have many expectations for myself, and this upcoming year, my ultimate hope is to return home as the most grounded, effective, and complete version of myself.
With gratitude,
X. Troutman
justxen.com 
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