My name is Houefa Ella Lawal. I am a registered nurse, educator, caregiver, mother—and most importantly, a survivor. My journey into nursing has been shaped by adversity, purpose, and the unwavering belief that compassion and care can change lives. I first discovered my calling as a nurse while growing up in West Africa. When my mother fell seriously ill, I watched the nurses care for her with tenderness and professionalism. Though I was young, their compassion left a permanent mark on me. Years later, when I immigrated to the United States as a young mother, I carried that early inspiration with me. I spoke little English, had no network, and started over in a new country—but I had a vision. I enrolled in a community college because it was the only path I could afford. That opportunity saved me. It gave me the education, confidence, and license to care for others. That’s why I now teach in a community college setting—I see myself in my students. I was them. I made it. And now I help others do the same. Nursing has given me the strength to survive—and the opportunity to give back. Over the last nine years, I’ve cared for pediatric, adult, and geriatric patients in hospitals, schools, homes, and underserved communities. Along the way, I’ve carried personal burdens few could imagine. I’ve grieved the loss of several children. I supported my husband through brain surgery after a tumor diagnosis. I faced—and survived—breast cancer. I’ve learned to show up for others even while fighting battles no one could see. I am still standing. Still serving. Still believing in the power of nursing to heal bodies and hearts. Now, I’m preparing to pursue my Doctor of Nursing Practice (DNP), with a focus on community and geriatric care. I plan to develop nurse-led elder care programs in underserved areas and, eventually, open a nursing school in West Africa to train local caregivers. My dream is to widen access to compassionate, high-quality care for vulnerable populations—especially seniors, who are too often forgotten. Receiving this scholarship in honor of Kelly O. would be deeply meaningful. Though I never met her, I feel a connection to her story. Like Kelly, I know what it means to give selflessly, to meet people at their most fragile, and to hold space for hope in the face of fear. Kelly’s legacy is one of compassion, resilience, and devotion—qualities I strive to live out every day as a nurse and now as a faculty member. If given this scholarship, I will honor her memory not just through words, but through action: by continuing to teach, mentor, and uplift the next generation of nurses who will walk into patient rooms carrying the same light Kelly once did. Though I’ve transitioned from bedside to classroom, I have not left caregiving behind—I’ve expanded it. My students are my patients now, and every lesson I teach is grounded in real-life experience and survival. I am not tenured, and I continue to support my family—especially my youngest daughter, who plays competitive club volleyball—while managing student loans and saving for doctoral studies. This scholarship would lighten that burden and allow me to continue advancing a mission bigger than myself. Kelly’s legacy lives on in nurses who embody compassion and strength. If chosen, I will carry that torch forward with the same heart, courage, and purpose that has carried me through every step of this journey.

Nursing is not just a profession I chose—it is a calling shaped by love, loss, and the desire to give back. My journey began in West Africa, where I watched my mother face illness with grace, and where I witnessed how nurses provided care that was not only clinical but profoundly human. Even then, I knew I wanted to become someone who could help others through their most vulnerable moments. That seed of inspiration stayed with me as I immigrated to the United States, learned a new language, and began the long process of rebuilding my life as a young mother in a foreign land. I started my nursing education at a community college because that was all I could afford. I couldn’t pay for a private four-year university, but I knew that with determination, I could still become a nurse. The community college was more than just a stepping stone—it was a place where I was seen, supported, and believed in. I looked around and saw students like me—immigrants, parents, second-career seekers—people fighting for a better future. That experience left a mark on me. It made me understand the value of access, inclusion, and second chances. I never forgot what that opportunity meant to me, and today, I strive to give the same to others. After becoming a registered nurse, I worked with pediatric, adult, and geriatric patients in hospitals, homes, schools, and community settings. My clinical skills deepened, but so did my understanding of people. I’ve walked through unimaginable personal trials: the loss of several children, standing by my husband through a brain tumor, and surviving breast cancer myself. These experiences were devastating, but they also refined my empathy and taught me how to meet others with compassion and presence. Nursing, for me, became a sacred duty—a way to turn pain into purpose. Now, as a full-time nursing faculty member, I teach in the same kind of institution that gave me my start. I look like many of my students. I share their challenges, their dreams, and their grit. I know what it means to juggle school, work, and caregiving. That connection makes me a more compassionate, grounded educator. I don’t just teach content—I teach from experience. I see my students not just as learners, but as future healers who deserve every chance to succeed. Choosing to teach was deeply intentional. I believe that empowering the next generation of nurses creates a ripple effect that changes families, communities, and systems. My role as a nurse educator is a form of caregiving in itself—one where I nurture, guide, and inspire. My dream is not only to teach in the U.S., but to take what I’ve learned and help open a nursing school in West Africa, where access to skilled education is urgently needed. Although I have stepped into academia, I am not yet tenured, and I continue to carry the responsibilities of family and financial stability. I support my youngest daughter, who plays club volleyball, while also preparing to pursue my Doctor of Nursing Practice (DNP). A scholarship would relieve financial pressure, allowing me to focus on my calling: expanding access to nursing education and building healthier communities both here and abroad. I didn’t choose nursing because it was easy. I chose it because it is powerful. And I chose teaching because I know how much one teacher, one chance, one moment of belief can change a life. I found out about this scholarship through Bold.org