My name is Brendan Jones, from a small town called Hope Mills in North Carolina. I am a student athlete, at South View High School. I am the 2nd oldest of 5 children. I hope to become a first-generation college student, not only for myself, but for my family as well. Attending college represents more than an education to me, and it is an opportunity to break cycles, honor the sacrifices made before me, and create a future built on purpose and perseverance. Although my parents divorced four years ago, my upbringing reflected a single-parent household long before that moment. My mother was the one who financially, mentally, and physically took care of my father, my siblings, and me. After my father became disabled, he fell into a deep depression, and the responsibility of holding our family together rested almost entirely on my mother’s shoulders. I love my father deeply and hope that he is doing better today. While it was difficult to witness his struggle, I often wished that he had placed his pain in God’s hands and fought for his healing and survival, becoming the man God had already predetermined him to be. Through that season, my mother’s faith never wavered. She faced every obstacle with courage, prayer, and determination, refusing to let circumstances define our future. Watching her endure hardship with grace taught me what real strength looks like. I am grateful to have been raised by a woman of deep faith in God and unwavering courage. My own courage came from her-a woman who continued believing no matter how heavy the problem or how impossible the obstacle seemed. One accomplishment that led to a new understanding of myself was earning honorable mention as an All-American lineman at the Blue-Gray All-American Football Game. I was one of only two players selected to represent my state, and that moment showed me that hard work, dedication, and perseverance truly do pay off. The game was played in Dallas, Texas, at AT&T Stadium, home of the Dallas Cowboys. Standing on that field, I realized that the work done in silence still matters. My background did not hold me back; it prepared me. That experience also taught me empathy, helping me understand that many people carry struggles others never see. Today, I move forward with gratitude, humility, and faith, knowing that the challenges I grew up with shaped the man I am becoming both on and off the field. In July 2025, my understanding of strength deepened even more when my aunt—my mother’s only sibling—passed away due to an accidental overdose. She was one of my biggest supporters, someone who believed in me even when I doubted myself. I witnessed my mother pray beside her even after the time of death was pronounced. In that moment, I realized I had never fully understood how strong my mother was—or how strong I was becoming. We were grieving, yes, but stopping was never an option. That loss changed me. I miss my aunt deeply, but I refuse to let grief stand in my way. Instead, I will use it to push forward with greater purpose, valuing life at a higher level and honoring her memory through how I live, work, and lead.

Obtaining my nursing degree, and eventually becoming a Nurse Practitioner, will not only change my life, but it will transform the future of my entire family for generations. I come from a family where faith has carried us through trauma, loss, and financial struggle. My mother, a woman of deep strength, raised five boys on her own while surviving unbelievable hardship. She was told she could never conceive, yet she gave birth to me in the same year she lost her mother to breast cancer at age 49. I was later diagnosed with heart block and labeled a “non-viable” pregnancy, but through faith, resilience, and compassionate medical care, I survived. My life began as a miracle, and I want my future to create miracles for others. For generations, my family has endured cycles of financial hardship, limited educational opportunities, and emotional trauma. My grandmother, my mother’s mom passed away young from breast cancer. My mother’s only sibling later died from an accidental fentanyl overdose, leaving my mother without immediate family support. Through all of this, my mother pressed forward, leaning on faith and resilience. But what has always been missing from our family story is long-term stability, consistent financial security, and access to higher education. I aim to change that. Becoming a nurse is the first major step in breaking those cycles. My degree will allow me to enter a stable, respected, and needed profession. Unlike previous generations, I will be able to build a career with dependable income, healthcare benefits, and upward mobility. This will give me the ability to not only support myself but also contribute to my family, care for my future children, and ensure they have opportunities I did not have growing up. However, the shift is not only financial, but also emotional and generational. Trauma has shaped my family for decades. Losing loved ones early, witnessing sudden death, and living under constant financial uncertainty creates emotional wounds that get passed down. By entering the medical field, I will be breaking a psychological cycle as well. I will bring healing, stability, and leadership into my family’s story. I will be someone my younger siblings, and one day my children, can look up to and say, “He changed our path.” My long-term goal of becoming a Nurse Practitioner specializing in OB/GYN and reproductive medicine also allows me to bring generational healing into the lives of others. Knowing that I survived against medical predictions gives me a unique connection to women experiencing fear, infertility, pregnancy complications, or grief. My career will allow me to support families at the beginning of life, and helping mothers, infants, and children develop secure, healthy foundations. Education is something no one in my family ever had the chance to fully obtain. My mother is in college now in her 40s, proving that it is never too late, but I will be the first of her five sons to enter the medical field. That accomplishment alone breaks generational barriers and raises the standard for everyone who comes after me. By completing my nursing degree, I will shift my family from a history of surviving to a future of thriving. I will build generational wealth, create emotional stability, and open doors that were once closed. My success will not end with me, and it will become the foundation for every generation that follows.

My desire to become a nurse and eventually a Nurse Practitioner specializing in OB/GYN and reproductive medicine comes from a lifetime of experiences that taught me the power of healing, the importance of compassion, and the miracle of life itself. From the moment I was born, medicine and faith worked together to shape my purpose, and every challenge I have faced since has strengthened my calling to serve. Before I existed, my mother was told she could never conceive. That same year, she lost her own mother to breast cancer at just 49 and believed that her dreams of becoming a mother had died with her. But life had a different plan. Soon after her loss, she found out she was pregnant with me, a miracle in the middle of grief. Doctors warned her that the pregnancy might not be “viable,” especially after discovering I had a serious heart condition called heart block. They told her I might not survive. Despite that, my mother held onto her faith. She prayed, fought fear mentally and emotionally, and carried me through months of uncertainty until the day I was safely born. I entered the world in my grandmother’s birth month and was named after her, which is a symbol that when life ends in one place, it can begin again in another. Because my life began as a miracle, I have always felt a responsibility to bring hope to others. My inspiration grew even deeper when I witnessed trauma firsthand years later. I was present when my mother’s only sibling died unexpectedly from an accidental fentanyl overdose. I saw my mother pray over her sister’s body, begging for life to return, even as doctors declared her death. That moment, watching someone take their last breath, changed me. It taught me how fragile life is, how deep grief runs, and how desperately people need compassionate, well-trained nurses during crisis. These experiences are why I want to enter nursing. As a young Black male, I am underrepresented in the field, and I want to change that narrative. Strength is not just physical; it is emotional courage, empathy, compassion, and the willingness to show up for people when they are at their most vulnerable. My long-term goal is to become a Nurse Practitioner and later a medical doctor, using nursing as the foundation to understand patient care from the ground up. I am especially drawn to OB/GYN, reproductive health, and the birthing process because so much of my own story revolves around pregnancy, survival, and the miracle of new life. I want to support women who experience infertility, high-risk pregnancies, trauma, or fear. I want to help mothers who feel hopeless, just as my mother once did. I want to ensure infants receive the nurturing touch and emotional support essential for healthy development. Human touch, especially in the form of gentle care, reassurance, and presence, helps stabilize infants, reduce maternal fear, and build trust during childbirth. My goal is to serve underserved communities, Black, white, rural, urban, and anyone who has lost hope along the way. I want to be a nurse who combines skill with compassion, science with faith, and knowledge with heart. The legacy of Dashanna K. McNeil, her dedication, her leadership, her passion for community healthcare has definitely inspired me. Like her, I want to use nursing not only as a profession, but as a mission to uplift, empower, and heal. My life began as a miracle. My purpose is to help others believe that theirs can too.

My inspiration for pursuing a career in nursing and ultimately becoming a Nurse Practitioner specializing in OB/GYN and reproductive medicine, but it comes from the powerful role that both faith and medicine have played in my life. I am literally living proof that new life can come from a season of deep loss. Before I was born, my mother had been told she would never be able to conceive. That same year, she lost her own mother to breast cancer at only 49 years old. She was heartbroken, exhausted, and grieving when she suddenly learned she was pregnant with me. Doctors warned that the pregnancy might not be “viable,” especially after discovering I had a serious heart condition called heart block. They prepared my mother for the possibility that I would not survive. But she refused to let go of her faith. She prayed, believed, and held onto hope until the day I was safely delivered. I was born in my grandmother’s birth month and named after her, which is a reminder that when life seems to end, it can also begin again. My story taught me that miracles are possible, and because of that, I feel called to bring hope to others. As a young Black male, and someone heavily underrepresented in nursing. I want to change the narrative. Strength is not only physical; it is emotional, spiritual, and compassionate. It takes courage to serve others in their weakness, to comfort families during fear, and to stand beside patients in their most vulnerable moments. Nursing allows me to bring that kind of strength into my community while building the foundation for my long-term goal of becoming a medical doctor. What connects me most to Mary Lou Losinger’s legacy is the idea of human touch. To me, human touch is the combination of compassion, presence, safety, and genuine care that makes a patient feel valued, seen, and understood. Human touch can calm anxiety, lower stress, reduce pain, and increase trust. It is the heartbeat of nursing. I understand the value of human touch not only because of my survival story, but because of the trauma I witnessed later in life. I was present when my mother’s only sibling died unexpectedly from an accidental fentanyl overdose. Watching my mother pray over her sister, begging for life to return, while doctors called the time of death left a mark on me. I saw fear, I saw shock, and I saw the emotional collapse that follows sudden loss. Trauma steals security. Trauma steals peace. And sometimes, trauma steals hope. In those moments, human touch becomes essential to healing. This truth is even more powerful in infants and children. Studies show that babies who receive nurturing touch, being held, rocked, or comforted, which help to develop stronger emotional regulation, healthier brain pathways, and deeper bonds with caregivers. Touch reduces infant stress, supports healthy heart rates, and promotes better sleep and growth. Without it, children can grow up more anxious, less secure, and more fearful of the world. When mothers experience fear, infertility struggles, complicated pregnancies, or grief, their infants feel that stress too. This is why I want to specialize in OB/GYN and reproductive medicine. I want to support mothers emotionally as well as medically. I want to be the presence that reassures them, the nurse who explains without judgment, and the professional who helps guide them through carrying, birthing, or caring for a child. When a nurse offers empathy, patience, and physical comfort, it creates a ripple effect, healing the mother, stabilizing the baby, and strengthening the family. Human touch is not just a nursing skill; it is a healing force. My own life began with hope when the world expected loss. Through nursing, I want to bring that same hope to every mother, every infant, and every family who feels afraid or uncertain. My story began with a miracle, and my mission is to help others believe that theirs can too.

Many motivated students come from backgrounds where the odds are stacked against them. Financial hardship, family responsibilities, and limited resources make the path to college harder, not because students lack ability, but because they lack access. High-achieving students from disadvantaged backgrounds deserve scholarships because determination should be rewarded, and potential should never be limited by circumstance. I know this personally because my life has been shaped by challenge and loss. My mother and father divorced 4 years ago, now my mother is raising five sons on while. She works tirelessly and keeps her faith strong, but she cannot afford college tuition for me without help. Our family has also faced deep emotional trauma, especially after the sudden death of my mother’s only sibling due to an accidental fentanyl overdose. I was there when it happened. I witnessed life slip away in front of me as my mother prayed boldly, commanding life to return until the doctors officially called the time of death. Watching that moment changed me forever. It showed me how precious life is, and how quickly it can end. That experience left trauma that I am still working through. But instead of letting it break me, it pushed me toward my purpose: preserving life. I want to stand in those moments with the skill, knowledge, and compassion to make a difference. Witnessing death made me want to fight for life. This is why nursing became my starting point. As a Black male, I represent a group that is severely underrepresented in the nursing profession. Growing up, I rarely saw nurses who looked like me. Society often expects young Black men to rely only on physical strength, but nursing requires emotional strength, courage, empathy, and leadership. Choosing this path allows me to break stereotypes and show young men in my community that compassion is strength. While my end goal is to become a medical doctor, I chose nursing because it is a faster pathway into the medical field where I can begin impacting lives sooner. Nursing allows me to gain hands-on experience, build real clinical skills, and support patients directly while I continue working toward medical school. It is the foundation that will prepare me to become the type of doctor who understands patient care from every angle. As a student-athlete, I know discipline, endurance, and perseverance. But my greatest strength is not physical, it is the courage to rise above trauma, stay focused despite peer pressure, and pursue a career that allows me to save lives and bring hope to families in crisis. The Marcia Bick Scholarship would relieve financial pressure from my family and help me focus fully on my education. It would be an investment in a young Black man determined to break generational barriers, turn pain into purpose, and serve his community through healthcare. With faith, hard work, and support like this scholarship, I am ready to rise above every obstacle and build a future defined by service, healing, and leadership.

I want to pursue a degree in nursing because I have seen firsthand how powerful and life-changing compassionate medical care can be. My family has faced medical emergencies and painful losses, including the sudden death of my mother’s only sibling after an accidental fentanyl overdose. Experiencing that moment with my mother opened my eyes to how deeply families rely on healthcare professionals during their hardest times. Nurses, in particular, are often the ones who comfort, explain, support, and stand with families when everything feels out of control. That experience made me want to be one of those people who brings calm and care when it matters most. I am also motivated to pursue nursing because Black males are heavily underrepresented in the medical field, especially in nursing. Growing up, I rarely saw nurses who looked like me. I rarely saw Black men portrayed as caregivers, healthcare leaders, or medical professionals. Most of the time, society tells young Black men to fit into a single image, to be strong physically, tough emotionally, and not involved in caring professions. I want to change that narrative. As a student-athlete, many people assume my strength comes only from muscle or physical ability. But the strength I am most proud of comes from courage and the courage to show compassion, to pursue education, to stand strong in my faith, and to aim for a career where I can serve others. Nursing requires a different kind of strength than the football field. It requires mental strength, emotional strength, and the strength to stay steady when others are breaking. That is the kind of strength I want to embody. My mother has been a major influence on this path. She is a woman of deep faith, courage, and resilience. She raised five sons and has lived through heartbreak without losing hope. Watching her rely on God through tragedy taught me that being strong does not mean hiding pain, it means facing it with faith. Her example motivates me to become a nurse who supports families the same way she supported ours. As a nurse, I hope to contribute to my community by serving families dealing with chronic illnesses, trauma, overdoses, rare conditions, and respiratory issues. Many people in my community struggle to access compassionate care, especially those who feel unseen or unheard. I want to be a nurse who listens, explains, advocates, and treats every patient with dignity. I want young Black boys to see me in scrubs and know that they can enter the healthcare world too. I also hope to use my voice to inspire other student-athletes. I want them to see that greatness is not limited to the field. Strength is not just about lifting weights, but it is about lifting people up. Courage is choosing a path that makes a difference in the world, even when it is not the path people expect you to take. Pursuing nursing is not just a career choice for me, and it is a calling shaped by faith, purpose, and lived experience. I want to use my life to bring comfort, healing, and hope to those who are hurting. And as a Black male nurse, I want to be part of changing the future of healthcare by showing that compassion, intelligence, and leadership belong to all of us.

My inspiration to pursue a career in the medical field comes from the experiences my family has faced and the moments that have shaped me into the person I am becoming. Growing up, I saw the effects of illness, loss, and medical emergencies on the people I love most. These experiences opened my eyes to how powerful healthcare workers can be, not only in treating patients, but in supporting families during the hardest moments of their lives. One of the biggest turning points in my life was witnessing the death of my mother’s only sibling. My aunt passed away after being unknowingly given fentanyl, and my mother and I were there as she took her final breath. That day changed me. I watched my mother stand in absolute faith, praying with authority, commanding life to return, and refusing to give up hope even while doctors declared her sister gone. Seeing her strength and seeing how fragile life can be made me realize how important compassionate and skilled medical professionals are in moments of crisis. I understood, even as a young man, that families need not just medically help, they need hope, understanding, and someone who sees them as human beings, not just cases. My mother’s faith and determination also inspire me. As a mother of five sons, she has always shown us how to fight through obstacles, trust God, and keep pushing toward our purpose. Her strength motivates me to become someone who helps others find comfort and support during their darkest times. I want to become a healthcare professional who treats patients with respect, gives families clarity, and brings calm to situations that feel overwhelming. Another part of my inspiration comes from the challenges young people face today. As a young man, I deal with peer pressure, doubt, and the pressure to fit into a world that doesn’t always lead in the right direction. My faith keeps me grounded, but seeing how quickly life can change pushed me to choose a career that matters. I want to use my future not just to succeed, but to serve. Through my career, I plan to focus on helping families dealing with lung issues, chronic conditions, rare diseases, overdoses, or medical emergencies that leave them lost and afraid. I want to work in environments where I can comfort patients, educate families, and listen to their fears instead of brushing them aside. I hope to become a nurse, doctor, or medical specialist who stands out and not just for skill, but for compassion. My goal is to make every patient feel seen and valued, especially those who often get overlooked. Ultimately, I want my career to be a reflection of everything I’ve lived through resilience, faith, compassion, and purpose. I want to honor my aunt, support my mother, and make a difference in communities that need strong and caring leaders. What inspires me most is knowing that healing is not only physical, but also emotional and spiritual too. And through a career in the medical field, I hope to bring all three forms of healing to the people I serve.

My name is Brendan Derek Jones, and I am a young Black male who has always wanted to make a difference in my community. Growing up, I faced loss at an early age and saw how sickness and lack of access to real healthcare affected the people around me. These experiences pushed me toward the field of medicine, because I want to bring healing, representation, and hope into a space where people like me are often missing. I chose to begin my journey through the nursing pathway, because nursing teaches compassion, skill, and patient connection. Nurses are the first hands to help and the last hands to leave, and that matters to me. But my long-term goal is to become a medical doctor, where I can serve my community on a larger scale and help reduce the health disparities, I grew up seeing. Being a Black male entering nursing and medicine makes my path even more meaningful. Men make up only about 12% of nurses, and Black men are an even smaller percentage. In medicine, the number is even lower, Black men make up only 2–3% of all U.S. physicians. Instead of letting that discourage me, it motivates me. I want to be part of the change. I want to increase those numbers so that young people who look like me can walk into hospitals and clinics and feel seen, understood, and respected. I also hope to inspire the next generation by being a leader both on and off the football field. Football has taught me discipline, teamwork, and how to stay focused even with peer pressure around me. I use my position as an athlete to show younger boys in my community that you can be strong, you can be dedicated, and you can also pursue a career in healthcare. You don’t have to choose between being tough and being educated, you can be both. My education will not just benefit me. It will benefit my four brothers, who look up to me, and it will benefit my community, which deserves better access to healthcare and more representation in medical spaces. I want to give back by leading health programs, speaking to students, and showing young Black boys that they belong in medicine too. My goal is to save lives, but also to open doors. If I can do that, then I know I will be honoring my purpose and lifting up the next generation along the way.

Even though I live in North Carolina and not in the states listed for this scholarship, I still felt something in my heart pushing me to apply. I believe God sometimes gives you a nudge that doesn’t make sense, but you follow it anyway. Growing up without ever meeting either of my grandmothers has been one of the biggest obstacles in my life. My mom’s mother, Brenda Shannon, who I’m named after, died from cancer before I was born. My dad’s mother, Bessie Dunbar, also passed away from cancer long before I entered the world. I never got to feel what a grandmother’s love was like, no long talks, no prayers over me, no extra support during tough times. That empty space shaped me, even when I didn’t have the words to describe it. Then in 2025, I witnessed something that changed me forever, which was the death of my aunt, the only sister my mother ever had. Watching her pass away right in front of me was something I’ll never forget. It made me realize how fragile life is and how quickly everything can change. Losing her felt like losing another piece of my family history, another chance to feel that generational love I always wished for. Even with all that pain, I made a decision: I wasn’t going to let grief or peer pressure pull me down. As a young Black man, I see how easy it is to get caught up in things that don’t lead anywhere good. But I stay grounded through my faith and the values my parents taught me. I also stay focused through football, where I’ve grown into a leader, and someone my teammates trust, someone who sets the tone by keeping his head straight and his priorities right. My education means a lot to me, but it’s not just about bettering my own life. I want to do this for my four brothers, too. They look up to me, and I want them to see that no matter what you’ve been through, you can still rise. I want to be the proof that pain can shape you into something strong instead of breaking you. And beyond my family, I want to give back to my community, especially young kids who feel lost, or who think their situation decides their future. I may not live in the states listed for this scholarship, but my connection to the Dunbar name, to Omaha through my grandmother, and to overcoming obstacles is real. I want to honor Rev. and Mrs. E. B. Dunbar by pushing forward, building a future worth fighting for, and lifting others as I climb. My goal is to use my education to make a difference, not just for myself, but for my four brothers, and for the community that raised me. I want to be someone who turns loss into purpose and someone who inspires others to keep moving forward, no matter what they’ve been through.

Loss is something that I’ve carried with me my whole life, even before I was old enough to understand what it meant. I never got the chance to know either of my grandmothers. My mom’s mother, Brenda Shannon, who I was named after, passed away from cancer before I was born. My dad’s mother, Bessie Dunbar, also died from cancer long before I ever came into the world. Because of that, I grew up without knowing what a grandmother’s love feels like. I would hear friends talk about how their grandmas spoiled them, prayed over them, cooked for them, or kept the family together. I never had that. I didn’t have those memories, those phone calls, those stories told directly from them. All I had were secondhand stories and their names. Sometimes it felt like I was carrying a piece of my history that I could never reach. Even though that was already hard, nothing prepared me for what happened on July 2, 2025, when I witnessed the death of my aunt, Latwett Harris. She wasn’t just any family member — she was my mom’s only sibling. My only aunt. The only other person on my mother’s side who carried the same bloodline as us besides my brothers. Seeing her take her last breath right in front of me changed something inside me forever. It was the kind of moment that makes the world feel like it’s spinning and standing still at the same time. I didn’t have a grandmother to run to for comfort. No choice but to face the pain in real time, with no shield, no buffer, like a head on collision. Losing both grandmothers before I even entered the world left me with questions, I’ll never be able to ask. But losing my aunt, someone I actually knew, loved, and laughed with, left me with a different kind of pain. She was the only sister my mother had, and now that link in our family is gone. When I think about that moment, I realize how fragile life is and how quickly everything can change. But these losses have shaped me, too. They taught me to grow up stronger, to be more aware of how short life is, and to appreciate the people who are still here. They made me more mature than most people my age. They pushed me to become the kind of man who wants to break cycles, not repeat them. A man who wants to build something better for himself and for those who come after him. Applying for this scholarship feels personal. It represents what this scholarship stands for — transforming pain into strength and honoring the memories of those we have lost by moving forward with purpose. I understand what it feels like to live through loss and still fight for a better future. I understand what it means to carry grief but not let it stop me. Even though I never knew my grandmothers, and even though I witnessed the loss of the only aunt I ever had, I am still standing. I am still growing, still learning, and still believing that my future can be brighter than my past. I want to use everything I’ve been through as fuel to succeed, not just for me, but for the loved ones who didn’t get the chance to see who I’d become. Their love lives on through me, and that’s why I’m determined to keep pushing forward.

Loss is something that I’ve carried with me my whole life, even before I was old enough to understand what it meant. I never got the chance to know either of my grandmothers. My mom’s mother, Brenda Shannon, who I was named after, passed away from cancer before I was born. My dad’s mother, Bessie Dunbar, also died from cancer long before I ever came into the world. Because of that, I grew up without knowing what a grandmother’s love feels like. I would hear friends talk about how their grandmas spoiled them, prayed over them, cooked for them, or kept the family together. I never had that. I didn’t have those memories, those phone calls, those stories told directly from them. All I had were secondhand stories and their names. Sometimes it felt like I was carrying a piece of my history that I could never reach. Even though that was already hard, nothing prepared me for what happened on July 2, 2025, when I witnessed the death of my aunt, Latwett Harris. Seeing her take her last breath right in front of me changed something inside me forever. It was the kind of moment that makes the world feel like it’s spinning and standing still at the same time. I didn’t have a grandmother to run to for comfort. No choice was given, I had to face the pain in real time, with no shield, no buffer, and it was like a head on collision. Losing both grandmothers before I even entered the world left me with questions, I’ll never be able to ask. But losing my aunt, someone I actually knew, loved, and laughed with, left me with a different kind of pain. She was the only sister my mother had, and now that link in our family is gone. When I think about that moment, I realize how fragile life is and how quickly everything can change. But these losses have shaped me, too. They taught me to grow up stronger, to be more aware of how short life is, and to appreciate the people who are still here. They pushed me to become the kind of man who wants to break cycles, not repeat them. A man who wants to build something better for himself and for those who come after him. My experiences with loss also guide my goals. I want to go to college not just for myself, but to honor the people whose names I carry. I want to show that even though they aren’t here, their lives still matter through the choices I make and the future I build. I want to be someone younger kids in my family can look up to so they don’t feel the same emptiness I did growing up. Applying for this scholarship feels personal. It represents what this scholarship stands for, transforming pain into strength, and honoring the memories of those we have lost by moving forward with purpose. I understand what it feels like to live through loss and still fight for a better future. I understand what it means to carry grief but not let it stop me. Even though I never knew my grandmothers, and even though I witnessed the loss of the only aunt I ever had, I am still standing. I am still growing, still learning, and still believing that my future can be brighter than my past. I want to use everything I’ve been through as fuel to succeed, but not just for me, but for the loved ones who didn’t get the chance to see who I’d become.

Faith became real to me during one of the hardest moments of my life—the day my mother and I witnessed her only sibling, my aunt, take her final breath after an accidental overdose. She was unknowingly given fentanyl, and her life ended faster than any of us could process. As shocking as it was for me, what I will never forget is the remarkable way my mother responded. She did not cry. Instead, she prayed, she commanded life to return, and she stood in complete faith even while doctors worked around her. When the doctors “called” the time of death, my mother begged them not to call it. She believed with everything in her that God could resurrect her sister. That determination, that refusal to stop believing, showed me a level of faith I had never seen before. It changed me. My mother has always been my greatest teacher in faith. As a mother of five sons, she leads our family with strength, humility, and a real relationship with God. She doesn’t preach with a microphone—she preaches with her life. She lives for Jesus in a practical way: in how she treats people, how she forgives, how she pushes us to be better, and how she keeps trusting God through every trial. Watching her pray for her only sibling with such boldness, and refuse to give up hope even as the medical team ended their efforts, taught me that real faith is not fragile. Real faith stands firm even when everything around you collapses. Being a young man today is not easy. There is constant pressure to fit in, to act tough, to follow the crowd, and to make choices that don’t line up with your future. Sometimes the pressure feels heavy, and I won’t pretend I’m always strong. There are moments when I grow weak, when I feel confused, or when the world feels too loud. But my faith grounds me. It keeps me in my right mind. It reminds me that I don’t have to follow the crowd—I can follow God’s path for my life. What strengthens me even more is knowing that my mother is praying for me daily. Even when I don’t tell her everything I’m struggling with, her faith has influenced me in ways she doesn’t even realize. Her walk with God has shaped mine, and it keeps me focused on my goals—not just in school and football, but in becoming a man of integrity and purpose. I am excited about college, but part of my heart aches thinking about leaving my mother right now. We’ve gone through so much together, and I want to protect her the way she protects us. But she pushes me forward like only a mother with true faith can. She tells me that God has called me to something greater, and she refuses to let fear hold me back. My dream is to enter the medical field and help people facing serious health challenges: rare diseases, respiratory issues, trauma, and conditions that leave families feeling lost. I want to be present for others in their darkest moments the same way God was present for us. More than anything, I want to make my mother proud. I want her to see her prayers answered. I want to become a man who reflects the strength, faith, and courage she showed when she stood beside her sister’s body and refused to stop believing. One day, I want to see her cry tears of joy, and because she deserves that and more.

rom a young age, I learned how deeply illness can affect a family. I never met my grandmother because she passed away from breast cancer at the age of 49, and both sides of my family have struggled with major health problems. Most recently, my mother lost her sister in July, and watching her grieve honestly, while still trusting God to carry her through, which showed me how powerful compassion and support can be during times of sickness and loss. These experiences have shaped my desire to help others facing serious medical conditions, especially those who live with diseases that are misunderstood, rare, or life-changing. The legacy of Sammy Hason, Sr., who is a man who lived with a rare lung condition yet continued serving others with strength and purpose, which inspires me to pursue a career in healthcare where I can make a real difference in the lives of patients and their families. I plan to use my education and healthcare training to support people who are living with lung disease and rare conditions. Many families, including mine, experience illness without having the knowledge, access, or resources they need. I want to become the kind of healthcare professional who not only treats medical issues, but also brings comfort, education, and understanding to those who feel overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty. My goal is to work in the medical field as either a nurse or doctor, specializing in areas connected to lung health, rare diseases, or chronic conditions. I want to stand beside patients the way I wished someone could have stood beside my family, explaining treatment options, offering encouragement, and providing care that respects both the patient and the people who love them. Education has shaped my goals in powerful ways. I learned from watching my mother return to college in her 40s to earn her degree in Criminal Justice, even while grieving her mother and sister, raising a family, and dealing with life’s challenges. Her strength taught me that learning is a lifelong journey and that education can be used to lift not only yourself, but everyone around you. Her example encouraged me to take my studies seriously, especially in science and healthcare classes, where I discovered my passion for understanding the human body and helping those in need. It also taught me that perseverance is one of the most important qualities a healthcare provider can have. I hope to use my future career to make a meaningful impact on patients who feel forgotten or misunderstood, especially those with rare conditions, like the one Sammy bravely lived with. Rare diseases often leave families confused and isolated because there is less research, fewer treatment options, and limited support. I want to be an advocate for those patients by staying educated, participating in research, and helping spread awareness so they never feel alone. My goal is to provide not just medical care but also hope. This scholarship would help me continue my education and move closer to my dream of becoming a healthcare professional dedicated to compassion, service, and lifelong learning, values that defined Sammy Hason, Sr.’s life. His legacy of resilience and devotion to helping others reflects the kind of person I want to become. I want my career to honor families like mine, families like his, and every family touched by illness. Through healthcare, I hope to carry forward his spirit of dedication and improve the lives of those living with lung disease and rare medical conditions, one patient, one family, and one act of care at a time.

Education has always been more than schoolwork for me. It has been the pathway to understanding who I want to become and how I want to shape my future. Growing up watching my mother, Shawntina Jones-Johnson, chase her own education while raising a family taught me early on that learning is not just something we are required to do, it is something that can transform your entire life. Seeing her return to college in her 40s to earn her degree in Criminal Justice made a huge impact on me. She showed me that education is a tool that can open doors, build confidence, and push you toward a better version of yourself no matter what age you are. Her determination helped shape my mindset and my goals, giving me direction and purpose during times when life felt uncertain or overwhelming. My life has not been easy, and some of the challenges I’ve faced have forced me to grow up faster than most people my age. I never had the chance to experience what it is like to have grandparents because both my mother and father lost their parents to cancer. My grandmother, Brenda Shannon, died from breast cancer at 49, long before I was born. I grew up hearing stories about her strength, her kindness, and how much she loved her family. Even though I never met her, she still feels like a missing piece in my life. I have often wondered what it would feel like to have a grandmother cheering me on at games, telling me family stories, or simply being there. That experience was taken from me, and it shaped the way I view family, loss, and responsibility. This past July, my family experienced another painful loss when my mother’s sister, my aunt, passed away. Watching my mom go through that heartbreak was one of the hardest things I’ve ever seen. She handled the loss with honesty and strength. She told us straight up that she was not okay, and she didn’t try to hide her pain or pretend everything was fine. But even in her sadness, she continued to trust God, believing that He would carry her through the grief. To watch someone go through so much loss and still show up every day takes a level of strength that not many people have. Her ability to keep going, to keep studying, to keep raising us, and to keep believing has inspired me more than anything. It taught me that vulnerability is not weakness, and faith can hold you together even when your world is falling apart. These experiences shaped how I view school and my own future. Education became a way for me to create something better for myself and my family. It helped me develop discipline, focus, and a sense of responsibility. I realized that every assignment, every class, and every test is not just something I have to do, it is something that brings me closer to the life I want to build. Education has also helped me discover what I am passionate about. I love football, and I am committed to playing at the college level, but I also have a deep interest in the medical field. Losing family members to cancer and seeing my aunt struggle made me want to be part of something that helps people heal and survive. Whether I become a nurse, a doctor, or another type of medical professional, I want to use my education to help people who feel helpless, scared, or alone, people who remind me of my own family. Another way education shaped my goals is by teaching me the importance of perseverance. There were many times when I could have given up, especially during family losses or when life outside of school felt too heavy. But going to school, completing my work, and investing in my future gave me stability. It gave me structure and reminded me that I have something worth fighting for. My teachers, coaches, and mentors helped me understand that I am capable of much more than what my circumstances try to tell me. Their guidance gave me confidence, and that confidence helped shape the goals I have now, to graduate, to earn a college degree, to play at the Division I level, and to build a meaningful career. Most importantly, education has shown me that I want to be a leader and a role model. Growing up as a young Black man in America, I know how important it is to have strong examples of what success can look like. I want to show my younger siblings, my teammates, and kids in my community that they can overcome hardship and still be great. I want to break generational patterns and create opportunities that didn’t exist before. Education is the key to that. It’s the foundation that will allow me to build businesses, support my family, and give back to others who need hope. It gives me the chance to create a future where success doesn’t just belong to a few, it becomes something I can pass on. In the end, education has shaped my goals by giving me direction, purpose, and hope. It has helped me rise above challenges and stay focused on the future. My mother’s strength, my family’s losses, and my own determination have all pushed me toward becoming someone who can make a difference. I want to use my education to build a better life, not only for myself, but for others as well. I want my journey to inspire the same way my mother’s journey inspired me. And because of everything I’ve learned, I believe I can.

My mother, Shawntina Jones-Johnson, is the greatest inspiration in my life. She has gone through more challenges than most people ever will, yet she continues to move forward with strength, honesty, and faith. Watching her deal with everything life has thrown at her has shown me what real courage looks like. My mother’s biggest inspiration was her own mother, Brenda Shannon, who passed away from breast cancer at just 49 years old. I never had the chance to meet my grandmother. In fact, I grew up without grandparents at all because both my mother and father lost their parents to cancer. Even though that left a hole in our family, my mom turned her pain into motivation. Losing her mother so young could have crushed her, but she chose to rise above it and pour everything she had into her children. This year brought another heartbreak. In July, my mother lost her sister, who was my aunt. It was a difficult and painful moment for our entire family. My mother handled this loss with a level of honesty that stands out to me. She didn’t pretend everything was fine or hide her emotions. She openly shared that she was not okay, and she allowed herself to grieve in a real and human way. But even in her grief, she continued to trust God, believing that He would give her the strength to get through it. Seeing her hold on to her faith during such a hard time showed me how powerful hope can be. My mother inspires me in other ways too. In her 40s, she made the decision to go back to school to finish her college degree in Criminal Justice. Many people might think it’s too late to return to school at that age, but she didn’t. She wanted to better herself and show her family that education and growth have no age limit. She studies, does her assignments, and keeps pushing forward, all while being a full-time mother and dealing with life’s challenges. Her determination teaches me that you should never stop working toward your goals. She is also one of the strongest and most loving people I know. My mom has faced health issues, raised five boys through difficult seasons, and experienced more loss than anyone should. Yet she still cares for others, helps people in the community, and encourages us to stay strong. Her love is protective, steady, and full of wisdom. She always puts faith first and reminds us that God can carry us through anything. Even though I never met my grandmother, I feel her strength living on through my mother. And now, I see that same strength reaching me. My mother’s life teaches me that pain doesn’t have to define you, it can shape you into someone powerful. She inspires me to aim higher, stay grounded in faith, and keep going no matter what life brings. My mother, Shawntina Jones-Johnson, isn’t just a parent. She is a role model, a fighter, and a woman led by God. She has turned grief into purpose, hardship into strength, and faith into action. I admire her more than she knows, and I hope to carry on the legacy she has built through courage and love.

I am looking to study Psychology. My passion for this field didn’t come from a textbook, my desire comes from real life and pain. After the recent death of my aunt, who passed from unresolved mental issues that lead to drug use. Ultimately, she passed away from a drug overdose. Her death caused me to ask myself questions that didn’t have easy answers. I wanted to understand why the mind reacts the way it does to grief, and how pain can linger so deeply that it changes a person. Losing her made me realize how powerful the mind truly is and it can heal, but it can also break if no one helps guide it. That experience opened my eyes to what’s called prolonged grief disorder, something I now see in people around me but rarely talked about. In the Black community, especially among Black men, mental health is often hidden behind strength or silence. We’re taught to “man up,” but nobody teaches us how to handle emotional wounds. I want to be one of the few who breaks that cycle. My dream is to become a first-generation psychologist in my family, someone who listens, understands, and helps others process their pain instead of burying it. North Carolina State University feels like the right place for me because it values both science and service. The psychology program there will allow me to study the brain and human behavior but also connect that learning to real people who are hurting. I want to learn more about disorders like psychosis, trauma, and grief so that I can bring that knowledge back to underserved communities. My goal is to help people who don’t have easy access to mental health care, especially young men who’ve never been told it’s okay to talk about what they’re feeling. This dream means more to me than a career, it’s personal. I’ve seen how unhealed pain spreads through families and communities. I don’t want to just understand it; I want to help stop it. My aunt’s death pushed me toward this path, and even though I still miss her every day, I know she’d be proud to see me turn my grief into purpose. I believe that by studying psychology, I can learn how to help others find hope again. and that’s the kind of healing that lasts.

I want to attend become the first male Nurse Practitioner in my family. My passion for this field didn’t come from a textbook, my desire comes from real life and pain. After the recent death of my aunt, which was caused by a necrotic colon, that went undiscovered. I started asking questions that didn’t have easy answers. I wanted to understand how it was possible to live with a organ that was dying without pain. She did not regularly visit the doctors do to not having insurance. How can I personally impact that narrative in a positive way, then I realized how powerful one person who had the mind and heart to truly be the change I want to see in the earth, is and it can heal, but it can also break if no one helps guide it. I believe that staying focused and dedicated to education is important because I know education is the foundation for the future I want. My long-term goal is to go into the medical field, starting with Nursing and working my way up to becoming a Nurse Practitioner, with a concentration on mental wealth. I want to serve communities that need more representation in healthcare, especially Black families who often do not see people who look like them in medical leadership. I want to change that narrative. That experience opened my eyes to what’s called prolonged grief disorder, something I now see in people around me but rarely talked about. In the Black community, especially among Black men, mental health is often hidden behind strength or silence. We’re taught to “man up,” but nobody teaches us how to handle emotional wounds. I want to be one of the few who breaks that cycle. My dream is to become a first-generation psychologist in my family, someone who listens, understands, and helps others process their pain instead of hiding it or acting as it does not exist. want to learn more about disorders like psychosis, trauma, and grief so that I can bring that knowledge back to underserved communities. My goal is to help people who don’t have easy access to mental health care, especially young men who’ve never been told it’s okay to talk about what they’re feeling. This dream means more to me than a career, it’s personal. I’ve seen how unhealed pain spreads through families and communities. I don’t want to just understand it; I want to help stop it. My aunt’s death pushed me toward this path, and even though I still miss her every day, I know she’d be proud to see me turn my grief into purpose.