Personal Narrative Analysis

Kevin and I stepped into a whole new world in the fall of 2009. We began our degree program at Emmanuel School of Religion, which is now called Emmanuel Christian Seminary. We were working on our Masters of Arts and Religion. I was excited and nervous about going back to college. Our first day was terrifying. Kevin and I attended orientation the week prior to classes starting. There was a definite realization this academic program was going to be a challenge. However, I wanted a challenge. On the first day of class, we started with Greek. Our professor was Dr. Marwede. He opened the class with a test. He came over to my chair first and handed me a paper with a list of Greek words on it. My immediate reaction was shock, which Dr. Marwede realized I was overwhelmed by the look on my face. He told the class we could take it home as homework. Many of the students in the Greek class had previous experience with Greek; however, Kevin and I had no knowledge at all. We were overwhelmed. We were assigned five chapters and told to return the next day for a quiz with our homework.

I'm a 25 year old female and these events happened to me between the years 2001 through 2003. I use to live in the suburbs in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma with my mom, dad, younger sister, aunt(mom's sister), and my dog.

I lost a job and did not find another one for several months. Once I did and tried to come back I was in 2 different car wrecks with the injuries and pain I was in there was no way I would have been able to complete successfully any of my classes or have them done in a timely fashion the concussion I suffered prevented me from remembering a lot of the time as well as the pain medications in which I was placed on. I tried again once I felt fine enough to go back and then I had health issues which required me to go in for surgery not once but twice. During that time I was not able to complete the classes as well in a timely fashion not only could I not lift my arms above my head but I needed help to assist me to be able to move about and therapy

“Will she ever be okay?” are the words that invested within me through every minute that passed. I could not help but think the world was falling in around me and nothing would relieve the pain. My daughter had something terribly wrong, and all I could do was sit and wonder the outcome of this horrific event. The world around me began to feel suffocating as if there was no way out. I brought this precious life into this world with the mindset that I could guard her from all the cruelty and darkness. My body grew weak with each thought that crept in my mind and I could feel the chills running down my back each time the doctor came with an update. Despite everything that could go wrong, I never stopped believing that with prayer I was not fighting

From a young age of eight, I fell in love with the game of soccer and I’ve been passionate about the game ever since. I deemed that the game was confined within the out of bounce lines. Within those lines I learned plenty such as the importance of teamwork, how rewarding hard work can be, and how vital training is for success. Elements all important to the player I’ve become.

When I was in fifth grade, I was caught between two worlds, playing the a woodwind or strings instrument. After much thought on which one, I decided that the violin was the best instrument for me, because it had a beautiful, unique sound, plus the possibilities are incredible. I could receive a compliment from a teacher, or even get accepted to the symphony. In elementary, I was known as the best player for my patience and understanding of every piece we played. “Your daughter is my best student in all 4 schools that I teach,” exclaimed my orchestra teacher, Ms. Nichols, to my mother. Ever since then, I have been practicing my violin every minute of every day. At the end of my sixth grade year, I received a letter stating that I have been invited

Mike and his wife Barb were happy to see me again. When I pulled into their driveway they were waiting outside his shop. Mike and I had made arrangements for me to purchase another ATV from him. This time I arrived to look at a 1984 Honda ATC250ex that he had restored. Mike is a shade tree mechanic who repairs old vehicles and ATVs and then flips them for a small profit. Entering his shop presents one with at least a dozen quads and dirt bikes all in a different stage of restoration. The youngest model in restoration is at least 25 years old. While most of the ATVs were in non-running condition, they weren’t treated like discarded trash. Each of Mike’s ATVs was positioned with disassembled parts sorted nearby as if every project had its own

Standing on the starting line, heart was pounding, nerves were running, expectations were high, the sound of the gun could not have come any quicker. Waiting in the blazing sun, I could feel the sweat dripping down my face. Time felt like it was at a standstill, just then, boom! The race was underway on this four lap journey around the track. Silence surrounded me as I ran in a sold out stadium, my thoughts drowned out the coaches and spectators. The speech my coach gave me before the race was on constant replay in my head. “This is your time. You will be district champ. There is no one standing in the way of you and your dreams, except yourself.” When I came around the turn, I could see my team in the stands cheering me on. There was pure joy on their faces as I took the lead and began to take off for the last lap. There was half a lap to go when the race took a turn for the worst. My stomach began to turn in knots, my breathing was getting heavier, and my strides were shortening. I could sense my competitors coming up behind me, I knew that if I could not stay in front, I would lose. Eventually they caught up to me and I just tried to stay with them, however, I began to fade. I crossed the finish line in third place. I looked up and could see my coach with his head down in disappointment, I let him down. My season had come to an end that day, and I

If anyone had told my 5 year old self that I would be capable to communicate with members of different communities, that I would be graduating from a high school in the United States with honors, or that I would be on my way to a highly competitive university of California; I would have not believed them in a single one, let alone that all those things would be possible in a couple of years.

Experiencing something for the first time can give lead to different emotions depending on what the encounter is. One can feel really happy if the scenario turns out the way they want it to. For example, when I was six years old, I remember telling my parents about how I wanted a dog. Everyday I would show them a picture of a dog on the internet, and ask if I could have one. My parents never really gave me a complete answer when I asked. They would usually respond with, “ I am not sure”, or “let me think about it”. However, one day when I came home from school, my parents told me to close my eyes. Once I closed my eyes, they lead me to the backyard. I could hear a high pitched bark coming from a distance. My heart started to pound, and it felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. As I open my eyes, I first see the bright sunlight coming in, which was blocking most of my vision. Once my eyes finally became adjusted, I see a little puppy right in front of

Boom! The gun blasts to begin the race, and we are off. This is it, the starter shoots the pistol into the brisk, fall air. I smell the raunchy, old water that sits stagnant right in the middle of the rutted course. I am wearing my brown, Mount Carmel singlet and shorts, along with my bright, orange spikes that are covered with brown water, due to the puddle I just trampled through. My feet are completely numb; it is almost like they are not attached to my sore ankles any longer. I feel a snug pull on my quad, which makes me wonder if I stretched properly. I bolt through the tall grass, while it brushes my glistening legs. My stomach is turning as I begin the race with a long stride. I hear the thunderous cheering surrounding me, but I cannot focus on anything but Coach’s determined words being continuously reiterated in my head: “Run your own race and lay it all out on the course!” Almost a mile into the three mile race, my body is

What makes me feel most successful? Setting a goal, working towards it, and seeing what I have hoped for become a part of my reality. Most people apply this thinking to things that considered universally important, like getting their dream job or investing and growing their money. I agree that these are important in life but I like to balance the practical things in life with the things that excite me. For me, nothing is more exciting that going fast which is why one of my most significant accomplishments in life to date was buying my Mustang GT.

What I am going to talk about is what one of my main personal narratives are. I feel that one of my main personal narratives would be adaptability. I feel that I am very adaptable as for everything I’ve been through. Throughout my life I have had to adapt to a lot of things.

Everybody has their moment that truly defines them for the rest of their life, whether it be when they first learned how to ride a bike or a friend that they made. Some events are more harsh and abrasive than other events but everybody has one. My event was a fateful night in the summer of 2013. I was 13 years old.

It was a scorching day at the Thomas County Central High School softball fields. The girls and I sat in the locker room waiting on coach, we were all anxiously yearning to be called for the mile and a half. Prior to tryout day, coach told us that we would have to make the mile and a half in fifteen minutes in order to eligible for the team. In the back of my mind, I knew I could accomplish the task, running was just a bit different. Coach barged in the locker room and uttered, “Alright everyone meet me at the track, let’s go ahead and get the worse part over with.” I thought to myself, amen.