Going to college, for me, is about building a bridge. It is the deliberate, structured pathway that connects the nurse I am today, an LVN with a decade of hands-on experience—to the nurse leader I am called to become. It represents more than a credential; it is the acquisition of the deeper knowledge and authority required to transform patient care from a series of tasks into a practice of profound, holistic empowerment. My journey to this point has been anything but linear. As a first-generation student and a single mother, my initial foray into higher education to become an LVN was an act of sheer determination. It was about survival and stability, financed by overtime shifts and fueled by late night study sessions after my daughter was asleep. That degree was my foundation, and for ten years, it has allowed me to serve and connect with patients on the front lines of care. But I have always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of my scope of practice, and the desire to understand the complex "why" behind the diseases I treat has only grown stronger. This desire became a mission after a personal medical crisis. Following the birth of my daughter, a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized. In a terrifying reversal, I became the vulnerable patient, lying in an ICU bed, attached to a wound vac. In that moment of profound fear and powerlessness, I experienced the healthcare system from the other side. I was a nurse, yet I struggled to advocate for myself. This experience revealed a critical gap: the chasm between clinical information and a patient's ability to feel truly seen, heard, and empowered in their care. This is what I am trying to accomplish by going to college. I am not simply seeking a new title; I am seeking the tools to close that gap. My goal is to earn my RN degree to gain a sophisticated understanding of pathophysiology and complex care planning. This knowledge is the necessary foundation to then specialize in women’s health, where I can be a guardian and an advocate for patients during their most vulnerable moments. Ultimately, I am trying to accomplish a shift in the paradigm of care I can provide. I want to be the nurse who ensures that no patient feels as invisible as I once did. I want to develop educational resources that empower new parents, mentor aspiring CNAs and LVNs with compassion, and lead a healthcare team that never loses sight of the person behind the chart. College is the essential vessel for this mission. It is the place where my lived experience and hard-won resilience will be fused with advanced clinical expertise. This scholarship is the critical support that would allow me to cross this bridge, enabling me to focus more on my studies and less on financial strain, so I can fully become the knowledgeable, empathetic, and empowered nurse my future patients deserve.

My identity is a tapestry woven from threads of resilience, service, and a profound belief in the power of human connection. I am a first-generation college student, a single mother, and a Licensed Vocational Nurse who has stood on both sides of the hospital bedrail. These roles have not defined my limits; they have defined my mission. I plan to make a positive impact on the world by becoming a Registered Nurse who transforms patient care from a transaction into an act of empowerment, ensuring that every individual feels seen, heard, and championed in their most vulnerable moments. My commitment to service was seeded in my childhood. Watching my single mother work two jobs to provide for her four daughters taught me that true strength is a quiet, persistent force. As the third oldest, I learned the meaning of an unselfish work ethic, not as a burden, but as the bedrock of family and community. This foundation became my own when I became a mother. Determined to build a stable future, I worked full-time while studying to become an LVN, a grueling but purposeful journey that cemented my calling to healthcare. That calling was tested and refined in a fire I never expected. After the birth of my daughter, a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized. In an instant, I was no longer the caregiver, but the patient—terrified, vulnerable, and lying helplessly with a wound vac machine as a constant companion. This experience was a brutal but invaluable lesson. It revealed a critical gap in our healthcare system: the chasm between clinical information and a patient's ability to feel empowered and heard. As a nurse, I had the knowledge, but as a patient, I felt my voice was small. This is the gap I am called to bridge. My plan is to become an RN specializing in women’s health, where I will be a guardian for those who feel invisible. My impact will be to ensure that no new mother has to navigate the fear and isolation I once faced. I will leverage my personal understanding of adversity to advocate for my patients, creating educational resources that are not just informative, but truly accessible and empowering. Furthermore, I plan to pay forward the mentorship I received by guiding future CNAs and LVNs, showing them that leadership in nursing means combining clinical excellence with unwavering compassion. This scholarship is an investment in that impact. It would provide crucial support, allowing me to dedicate myself fully to my RN studies and bring this vision to life. I am not just pursuing a degree; I am answering a call to inject deeper empathy, stronger advocacy, and more compassionate leadership into the world, one patient at a time. My journey has equipped me with the resilience and clarity to do this vital work, and I am ready to begin.

My educational journey has been less a straight path and more a mountain I was determined to climb, carrying the weight of responsibility on my back from a young age. The adversities I have overcome are not just obstacles I left behind; they are the very foundation of my character and the source of my unwavering commitment to becoming a Registered Nurse. My first and most formative teacher was my mother, a single parent who worked two jobs to provide for her four daughters. As the third oldest, I learned quickly that resilience wasn't an option, but a necessity. Our home ran on a quiet understanding of sacrifice and a collective work ethic. We were a team. This early training in perseverance became my own blueprint when I became a single mother myself. Pursuing my Licensed Vocational Nurse (LVN) credential meant studying after my daughter fell asleep, financing my dreams with overtime shifts, and clinging to a determined focus that failure was not an option. I was building a bridge to a better future with no blueprint, guided only by the example of my mother's strength. Just as I established my career, a profound personal crisis tested my resilience in a way I never imagined. After the birth of my daughter, a severe postpartum infection led to sepsis, and I found myself in the ICU. In a terrifying reversal, I transitioned from being an LVN caregiver to a vulnerable patient. Lying there, dependent on a wound vac and unable to care for my newborn, I felt broken. It was a devastating blow, threatening the very core of my identity as a protector and a nurse. Yet, that experience became my crucible. It forced me to synthesize my personal grit with a profound professional purpose. I understood, from the most intimate perspective, the fear and powerlessness a patient can feel. I realized that healthcare requires more than clinical skill; it demands empathetic advocates who empower patients. This clarity ignited a new, more powerful determination. My adversity was no longer a barrier, but a catalyst. Now, as I pursue my RN degree, I carry these lessons with me. The adversity of my childhood taught me resilience. The challenge of being a single mother taught me fierce determination. And the trial of my medical crisis gifted me with an essential empathy. This scholarship is more than financial aid; it is a vital support system that would allow me to reduce my work hours and dedicate the focused time my studies and my daughter deserve. You would be investing in a nurse who doesn't just treat a chart, but who sees the whole person—because I have been that person. My journey has forged in me a resilience and purpose that I am ready to channel into a lifetime of compassionate, expert care.

Leadership, to me, is not about a title or authority. It is about building a scaffold of support that allows others to rise. It is the combination of clear communication, unwavering resilience, and an unselfish commitment to a common good, all driven by a focused work ethic. This understanding was not born in a boardroom, but forged in the fires of my own life, and it is the foundation upon which I am building my future as a Registered Nurse. My resilience and strong work ethic were shaped in a household led by my single mother, who worked two jobs to provide for her four daughters. As the third oldest, I learned early that our family thrived through collective effort. This required unselfish dedication; my goals were always balanced with the needs of my sisters. I carried this ethos into my own journey as a single mother, working full-time while studying nights to become an LVN. Every textbook purchased was a sacrifice, and every late-night study session after my daughter’s bedtime was a testament to a focused determination to build a better life for us both. These traits are not just history; they are my daily routine. As an LVN of ten years, my strong work ethic is demonstrated through meticulous patient care and a commitment to going the extra mile. My resilience is tested and proven daily, whether navigating the emotional toll of the COVID-19 pandemic, where I held my personal iPad for final family goodbyes or balancing the demands of motherhood, work, and now, further education. This resilience is rooted in an unselfish perspective; I show up because my patients and my daughter are counting on me. My communication skills and leadership philosophy are intertwined. I believe leadership is service. On the floor, this means actively listening to patients to understand not just their symptoms, but their fears. It means clearly communicating with CNAs and colleagues to create a supportive team environment, much like I did with my sisters growing up. My goal is to be the charge nurse who, like my mentor Tammy, can direct a crisis with competence while never forgetting the human being at the center of it. I am now pursuing my RN degree because I have reached the limit of my LVN scope of practice. My focused determination is now fixed on understanding the complex 'why' behind the care I deliver. A personal experience with a postpartum medical crisis taught me the critical need for nurses who can not only perform clinical tasks but also empower vulnerable patients. My future goal is to become an RN in women’s health, and eventually, a nurse leader who mentors the next generation. I will lead by example, showing that true strength lies in compassion, that communication builds trust, and that an unselfish work ethic elevates an entire team. This scholarship is an investment in that leader. It would provide crucial support, allowing me to reduce my work hours and dedicate more focused time to my studies and my daughter. I am not just pursuing a degree; I am building a legacy of resilient, compassionate care, and I am determined to see it through.

The most profound lessons in resilience, sacrifice, and unwavering love were not taught to me in a classroom, but in the quiet, determined footsteps of my mother. Growing up as the third oldest of four girls in a single-parent household, my childhood was shaped by the rhythm of her two jobs: one while we were at school, and another overnight. We learned to be a team, with my older sisters and I sharing responsibilities far beyond our years—cooking simple meals, helping with homework, and offering a shoulder to lean on. This wasn't a story of hardship; it was our normal, a masterclass in silent perseverance. My mother was our entire world, and her exhaustion was a testament to her love. She taught us that you do what is necessary for your family, a lesson that became the bedrock of my character. That foundation of resilience became my own when I became a single mother. I understood the weight of building a future from scratch, and it fueled my determination to become a Licensed Vocational Nurse. Juggling textbooks with bedtime stories and financing my education with overtime shifts, I mirrored the same grit I had witnessed my entire life. My mother’s example was my blueprint: when you face a challenge, you meet it head-on. This inherited strength was tested in a way I never anticipated. After the birth of my daughter, a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized. In an instant, I transitioned from caregiver to patient. Lying in that ICU bed, listening to the gurgle of a wound vac, I felt a profound vulnerability. I was a nurse, yet I struggled to advocate for myself, blinded by pain and the all-consuming focus on my newborn. This experience was a brutal but transformative lesson. It revealed a critical gap in healthcare—the chasm between clinical information and a patient's ability to self-advocate, especially when they are overwhelmed and afraid. That moment fused my mother's legacy of strength with a crystal-clear professional mission. I am no longer just pursuing a career; I am answering a call. My goal is to become a Registered Nurse to bridge that very gap. I am driven to work in women's health, to be the calm, empowering presence for patients who feel as vulnerable and unheard as I once did. I want to be the nurse who ensures that a new mother, regardless of her background, feels seen, heard, and equipped to be a partner in her own care. This scholarship represents more than financial aid; it is an investment in a legacy. It would allow me to reduce the exhausting overtime hours that drain my time and energy, granting me more precious moments for both my studies and my daughter. You would be supporting the daughter of a single mother who never gave up, who is now determined to become a nurse who never gives up on her patients. My journey, shaped by my mother's sacrifice and refined by my own trials, has equipped me with a unique empathy and a fierce determination. I am ready to honor her struggle by dedicating my career to ensuring that every patient feels the strength of unwavering support on their own path to healing.

Everyone loves "Defying Gravity," but the heart of Wicked for me has always been the story behind the story. It’s about the person labeled "wicked" just for being different, for speaking up, for not fitting in. That idea hits deep. You see, as a first-generation student and a single mom, I know a little something about defying labels. My path to becoming an LVN wasn't straight. It was a grind of late-night study sessions after my daughter was asleep, fueled by a determination people like me aren't always expected to have. I had to be my own cheerleader, much like Elphaba. But the real lesson of Wicked is empathy. The whole show is about looking past the surface to understand someone's truth. This is everything in nursing. A patient isn't "the infection in Room 4"; they're a person, scared and in pain. I learned this firsthand after a severe postpartum infection landed me in the ICU. Lying there, I wasn't just a nurse anymore; I was the vulnerable one, praying to be seen as more than my diagnosis. That’s the nurse I’m determined to be—one who always looks for the whole story. This scholarship would be the helping hand that lets me focus less on overtime shifts and more on mastering the skills to provide that kind of care. I want to be the reason a patient feels understood, the calm presence in their chaos. In the end, Wicked teaches us that people are rarely just "good" or "wicked." They're complex, and they deserve to be seen. My mission is to bring that same clarity and compassion to the bedside.

I’d create a Love Island challenge called "Empathy ER." Forget volleyball or pie-eating contests; this one would test what really matters for a long-term connection—and what’s absolutely essential for any great nurse: the ability to listen, comfort, and truly understand someone when they're feeling vulnerable. The challenge has two rounds that turn part of the villa into a pop-up clinic for the heart. Round 1: The Triage Tent Each couple enters a private tent where one partner becomes the "Caregiver" and the other the "Patient." The Patient draws a card describing an emotional ailment, like "crushed after being left out of a game" or "stressed about a missing family text." Here's the catch: the Caregiver can’t just say "you'll be fine." They have five minutes to actually show they care. They can use a cozy blanket, make a cup of tea, or just listen—but they have to figure out what their partner needs without being told. This is where you see who can actually sit with someone in their discomfort, which is what real bedside manner is all about. Round 2: The Diagnosis Debrief This is the real test. The couples are split up, and the narrator interviews them separately. He asks the Patients, "What one thing your partner did made you feel truly heard?" Then, he asks the Caregivers, "What did you think was the most comforting thing you did, and why?" The winning couple isn't the one who did the most, but the one whose answers match up perfectly—proving they were truly on the same wavelength. As someone who's been on both sides of the bedrail—both as an LVN caregiver and as a terrified patient after a postpartum infection—I know that this "Diagnosis Debrief" is the hardest part. Truly understanding what another person needs isn't just a game; it's the very heart of nursing. This scholarship would directly support my goal of becoming an RN who masters this skill. By easing the financial pressure, it would allow me to focus more on my studies and less on overtime shifts. This means I can dedicate the time needed to not only learn the science of nursing but to also deeply cultivate the art of human connection, ensuring I graduate ready to heal with both knowledge and heart.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU. As a CNA and telemetry tech in 2010, I was in awe of nurses like charge nurse Tammy, who could direct a chaotic code while simultaneously holding a patient’s hand. She showed me that healthcare is the powerful fusion of sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. This revelation is the core of why I have chosen to pursue a degree in healthcare. It is a profession that demands we treat the disease while honoring the person. In 2013, I became an LVN to act on this calling. For ten years, I’ve loved my work, but I have reached the limit of my license. My desire to understand the complex ‘why’ behind the care I deliver compels me to advance. This need was personally driven home by a severe postpartum medical crisis where a systemic infection led to sepsis. In an instant, I transitioned from caregiver to patient. That experience gifted me with an intimate understanding of vulnerability and a fierce determination to provide care that is as empathetic as it is expert. As a woman in the healthcare field, I hope to make a positive impact by embodying this principle of whole-person care and by lifting others as I climb. I witnessed the critical need for this human touch during the COVID-19 pandemic. I spent countless hours using my personal iPad to connect isolated patients with their families for final goodbyes. It was a devastating period, but it solidified my role as both a rock for my patients and a soft place for my own family. This dedication was recognized when I was nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023—a moment that affirmed that compassion matters. My goal is to become an RN to develop complex care plans and make critical decisions. But my greater mission is to become a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me: a guide who demonstrates that true healing happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. I will leverage my experience as a woman, a mother, and a former patient to advocate for both my colleagues and those in our care, ensuring our profession never loses its essential human heart. This scholarship would be a game-changer, allowing me to cut back on overtime shifts and dedicate more time to my studies. You would be investing in a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to elevate this profession. Thank you for considering my story

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my family, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My identity is not a single thread, but a tapestry woven from experiences that have historically been underrepresented at the nursing leadership table: I am a first-generation college student, a single mother, and a woman who has navigated the healthcare system from both sides of the bedrail. This identity has not been a barrier on my path to nursing; it has been the very source of my resilience, empathy, and my determined vision to make healthcare more equitable and understanding. Growing up without a family blueprint for higher education meant my journey into healthcare was built from scratch. As a first-generation student, I had to become an expert in navigating unfamiliar systems, advocating for myself, and finding resources where none were readily offered. This struggle was compounded when I became a single mother, where every textbook purchase and late-night study session was a calculated sacrifice for our future. These experiences didn't weaken my resolve; they forged a profound understanding of the systemic hurdles and silent anxieties that many patients, especially from marginalized communities, bring with them into the hospital room. I know what it feels like to be overlooked and to have your voice feel small. This perspective became critically personal after the birth of my daughter, when a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized. As an LVN, I had the medical knowledge to understand what was happening, but as a patient, I felt invisible and powerless. Lying in that ICU bed, I was confronted with the stark reality that the system I worked in could feel alienating to someone like me—a new mom without a traditional support system, struggling to be heard. This was a pivotal moment. My identity as a patient from an underrepresented background collided with my professional self, revealing a critical gap in patient advocacy and culturally competent communication. It is from this intersection of my identities that my purpose now flows. My path is not just about obtaining an RN degree; it is about leveraging my lived experience to become a bridge for others. I have felt the disconnect between clinical care and a patient's reality, and I am driven to close it. I am committed to working in women's health, particularly serving communities where distrust in the medical system may exist. I will use my personal understanding of financial strain, single parenthood, and the challenge of self-advocacy to connect with patients on a deeper level, ensuring they feel seen, heard, and empowered in their care. My identity is my greatest asset. It is the reason I noticed the loneliness of patients during COVID-19 and used my own iPad to connect them with their families. It is the foundation of my desire to mentor other first-generation students and single parents who aspire to careers in healthcare, showing them that their backgrounds are not liabilities but sources of unique strength. This scholarship is an investment in a more diverse and compassionate healthcare landscape. Supporting my education means placing a caregiver at the bedside who doesn't just treat the condition, but who truly understands the person—because I have lived in the spaces they come from. I am not just pursuing a career; I am answering a call to ensure that the path to healing is accessible to everyone, regardless of their starting point.

The values of resilience, service, and profound empathy have shaped my journey from a first-generation college student and single mother to a dedicated LVN for the past ten years. My passion for human health was ignited at the bedside, watching mentors provide care that blended clinical skill with deep human connection. This passion became personal when a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized. In an instant, I transitioned from caregiver to vulnerable patient, confronting the fear and isolation that patients can feel. That experience, coupled with serving on the frontline during COVID-19, cemented my commitment. I learned that health is more than the absence of disease; it is about dignity, empowerment, and being seen as a whole person. These experiences drive me to become a Registered Nurse. I am not just passionate about treating illness; I am dedicated to ensuring every patient feels heard and empowered in their care, especially those from underrepresented communities. My journey has taught me that true wellness requires both clinical excellence and unwavering compassion. To me, empathy is the bridge between clinical data and the human experience. It is not merely understanding a patient’s diagnosis, but actively seeking to understand the fear in their eyes, the frustration in their voice, and the weight of their personal circumstances. It is the practice of sitting with a person in their vulnerability without judgment, ensuring they feel like a partner in their care, not just a subject of it. In nursing, this quality is not a soft skill—it is a critical component of effective care. My own medical crisis after childbirth taught me this firsthand. Lying in an ICU bed with a wound vac, I was more than a case of sepsis; I was a new mother terrified I wouldn’t be able to care for my daughter. The nurses who saw me—not just my infection—made all the difference. They bridged the gap between my clinical reality and my human terror. This is especially vital in women’s health, where patients need to feel believed and supported, not just processed. Empathy builds the trust that allows for honest communication, which in turn leads to better outcomes and safer patients. To ensure my work is consistently human-centered, I will employ a few key practices. First, I will practice intentional listening. This means sitting down, making eye contact, and listening to a patient’s story without interrupting, just as I did when I used my personal iPad to connect isolated COVID-19 patients with their families. It’s in those unstructured moments that the most crucial information and fears are often revealed. Second, I will empower patients through education. My experience as a first-generation student taught me the power of demystifying complex systems. I will translate medical jargon into clear, actionable steps, ensuring patients and their families understand their care plan and feel equipped to participate in their own wellness. This transforms them from passive recipients into active advocates. Finally, I will champion cultural humility. Recognizing that my patients’ backgrounds and beliefs profoundly shape their health journey, I will ask questions and create a space where their values are respected. This commitment to seeing the whole person—their identity, their family, their fears, and their strengths—is the core of human-centered care. It is the practice of ensuring that the dignity of the person in the bed is always the priority, guiding every clinical decision and every human interaction.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my family, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

Being a first-generation college student has not just influenced my career goals; it has fundamentally defined their purpose and their urgency. Without a family blueprint for navigating higher education, I learned to build my own path, developing a resilience and a unique perspective that I now bring to my ultimate goal: to become a Registered Nurse who doesn't just treat patients, but truly empowers them. My journey to becoming an LVN was a testament to this. There was no one at home to explain course loads or financial aid forms. As a single mother, I balanced textbooks with bedtime stories, financing my dreams with overtime shifts. This struggle taught me to be a fierce advocate for myself—a skill that became profoundly personal when I faced a life-threatening postpartum infection. Lying in that hospital bed, I felt the vulnerability of navigating a complex system. Despite my medical knowledge, I understood the fear and confusion that any patient, especially those from underrepresented backgrounds, can feel. That experience fused with my first-generation resilience to create a clear mission: I must advance to become an RN to bridge the gap between clinical care and patient empowerment. This is where my first-generation experience directly shapes my career objectives. Because I had to learn self-advocacy from scratch, I am driven to ensure my patients never have to. I am not pursuing a bachelor's degree simply for a higher title. I am pursuing it to gain the advanced knowledge needed to develop patient education programs that are accessible and actionable. I want to create resources that demystify healthcare for new parents, single mothers, and first-generation families like my own, giving them the tools to confidently manage their well-being. My goal is to return to the hospital setting not just as a clinician, but as a translator and a guide. I will use my voice—a voice tempered by overcoming systemic barriers—to ensure my patients feel seen, heard, and equipped to be partners in their own care. My first-generation journey has taught me that the greatest gift you can give someone is the ability to navigate their own path. As a future RN, that is the exact gift I intend to give every patient I serve. This scholarship is an investment in that mission, helping to build a more empathetic and equitable healthcare system from the ground up.

My vision for my future as a nurse is not just to perform a role, but to embody a principle I learned early in my career: true healing happens at the intersection of sharp clinical skill and profound human connection. I see myself as a bridge connecting clinical knowledge to compassionate action, and empowering patients and new nurses alike to navigate the healthcare system with confidence and dignity. This vision was first inspired at the bedside, watching charge nurse Tammy hold a patient's hand, keeping calm during a chaotic code and still being available to lead the unit effectively. It was solidified during my own medical crisis after the birth of my daughter, when a severe postpartum infection landed me in the ICU. In an instant, I transitioned from an LVN caregiver to a vulnerable patient, lying alone with the gurgling sound of a wound vac. That experience taught me a brutal but invaluable lesson: we can give patients all the information, but without the context for self-advocacy; especially during life's most overwhelming moments; that knowledge is powerless. As a future Registered Nurse, my primary mission is to close this gap. I will specialize in women’s health, developing clear, actionable educational tools that transform new parents from passive recipients of care into active, confident partners in their well-being. Furthermore, I envision myself as a mentor who pays forward the guidance I received. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me—a calm, competent leader who shows that tasks and compassion are not separate items on a checklist, but two sides of the same coin. My nomination for Nurse of the Year during the COVID-19 pandemic, a time I spent holding my personal iPad for final family goodbyes, affirmed that this depth of care matters. It proved that resilience means being a rock for your patients while remaining a soft place for your family. This is the balanced strength I hope to model for the next generation. Finally, my vision is rooted in wholeness. The same hands that will start IVs and assess patients also find peace in the soil of my garden, nurturing life quietly and patiently. This passion reminds me that growth cannot be rushed, whether for a seedling or a human spirit. It is this balance that will allow me to sustain a long and meaningful career, ensuring I never lose the essential human heart at the core of our profession. My goal is to be more than an RN; it is to be an anchor, an educator, and a mentor. This scholarship is an investment in that vision, supporting a proven nurse, a resilient mother, and a dedicated student who is ready to give everything to a profession that is both a science and an art.

My first understanding of dementia did not come from a textbook during my nursing training; it came from watching a vibrant community elder slowly recede into a quiet world of her own. The impact was not a single, dramatic event, but a slow, aching fade—a series of small losses that collectively reshaped our community. Through this experience, and others in my nursing career, I learned that while dementia may steal memory, it cannot erase the human spirit, and that our role as caregivers is to learn a new, profound language of presence. The disease manifested as a quiet erosion. Ms. Clara, a pillar of our church who once organized food drives and knew every child’s name, began to forget recipes she had mastered decades ago. Then, she’d forget faces. The lively conversations at our community dinners became shorter, replaced by a polite, distant smile. The impact was a collective heartache. We weren't just losing her company; we were losing a living library of our shared history, a keeper of stories. It created a void, a silence where her wisdom and laughter used to be. As an LVN, I have since cared for many patients walking a similar path. The clinical challenges are one thing—managing medications, ensuring safety, preventing infections. But the true lesson, one that mirrors what I learned with Ms. Clara, is that care extends far beyond the physical. I recall one patient, a former teacher, who was often agitated and withdrawn. The medical tasks were straightforward, but he remained unreachable. One afternoon, I sat with him and simply began reciting a classic poem. His eyes, which had been clouded with confusion, suddenly cleared. He finished the verse, his voice strong and sure. For a fleeting moment, he was back. He wasn't a "dementia patient"; he was a teacher, sharing his knowledge. That moment taught me more than any care plan could. I learned that the person is always in there, even when the path to them is obscured. My role is not to force them back into my reality, but to find a way into theirs, even for a second. It is about preserving dignity when autonomy is gone, and offering comfort when understanding has faded. This philosophy of care—seeing the whole person, not just the disease—is the same one that guides my approach to all patients, from my time on the COVID-19 frontlines to my goal of empowering new mothers. Witnessing the impact of dementia on Ms. Clara and my patients has cemented a core belief in my nursing practice: connection is a non-negotiable part of healing, even when a cure is impossible. It has taught me that the most critical tool I possess is not my stethoscope, but my capacity for patience, empathy, and unwavering presence. This scholarship would support my journey to become an RN, allowing me to further develop the clinical expertise to manage complex conditions like dementia, while never losing sight of the profound human connection at the heart of all true care.

Being a first-generation student means building a bridge without a blueprint. It means that every step I take into the world of higher education is a step into uncharted territory for my family. There is no legacy to lean on, only a legacy to create. For me, this isn't a source of shame, but a source of my fiercest determination. It means my education is not just for me; it’s a promise to my daughter and a tribute to the family who got me here, even without a map. The challenges have been very real. As a single mother, my journey to become an LVN was a grind of late-night study sessions after my daughter’s bedtime, financed by overtime shifts. I learned to navigate financial aid forms and course catalogs alone, often feeling overwhelmed and out of place. The greatest test, however, came after the birth of my daughter, when a severe postpartum infection left me hospitalized and septic. In that ICU bed, I was a nurse who knew the system, yet I felt the profound vulnerability of being a patient. That experience, while terrifying, forged my purpose with absolute clarity. It revealed a critical gap in healthcare: patients need advocates who empower them, not just treat them. It solidified my drive to become a Registered Nurse and close that gap, especially for women in their most fragile moments. My dream is to become an RN who is a guardian and an educator in women’s health. I am driven by the memory of my own fear and the knowledge that my voice, shaped by my struggles, can be a lifeline for other women who feel unseen. I’ve already proven my resilience, from the frontlines of the COVID-19 pandemic to balancing motherhood with my career. Now, I am ready to take the final step. This scholarship would be more than financial aid; it would be a powerful validation of my first-generation journey. It would directly allow me to cut back on the exhausting overtime hours that drain my time and energy. Those hours would instead be poured directly into my studies and into precious moments with my daughter, ensuring that my pursuit of this degree doesn't come at the cost of being the present mother I strive to be. You would be investing in a woman who has already built the foundation with her own hands and whose purpose is crystal clear. I am not asking for a handout, but for a partnership in building a legacy of education, health, and hope for my family.

My identity as a Black woman is not a sidebar to my story; it is the foundation. It is a legacy of strength, resilience, and a sacred commitment to community that flows through my veins. This identity has profoundly shaped my journey into nursing, a path I walk not only for myself but for my daughter and for the generations of Black women whose healing hands have historically been overlooked yet have always been the bedrock of care. As a first-generation college student and a single mother, I inherited a narrative of having to work twice as hard. There was no roadmap, only a determined faith and the whispers of my ancestors urging me forward. I built my career from the ground up, becoming a CNA and then an LVN, often studying between double shifts. Every textbook I bought was a choice against another necessity, a reality too familiar in our community. But this struggle taught me a fierce form of self-advocacy and a deep understanding of the systemic barriers that many of my future patients would face. This perspective became critically personal after the birth of my daughter. When a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized, I experienced the healthcare system from the other side. Lying in that ICU bed, listening to the gurgle of the wound vac, I felt a specific kind of vulnerability. As a Black woman, I was acutely aware of the chilling statistics on maternal mortality that disproportionately claim the lives of women who look like me. Despite my medical knowledge as an LVN, a part of me feared being dismissed—a fear rooted in the well-documented experiences of Black women in healthcare. That experience was a terrifying clarion call. It revealed the critical, often deadly, gap between clinical treatment and culturally competent, compassionate care that truly listens to Black women’s bodies and voices. My mission is now clear. My path as a future Registered Nurse is to stand in that gap. I am called to work in women’s health, to be a guardian and an advocate for Black mothers. This mission is urgent, especially considering that Black nurses make up only 6.3% to 11.5% of the RN workforce. In my own program, I am one of a small number of Black women, representing a fraction of my cohort. This statistic is not just a number; it is a daily reality that underscores the critical need for more caregivers who share and intimately understand the cultural and historical experiences of the patients we serve. I will use my voice, tempered by my own trauma and my professional knowledge, to challenge the implicit biases that can lead to tragedy. I have already lived this advocacy, whether holding space for isolated patients during COVID-19 or serving in my community. My goal is to be the nurse that a patient remembers not just for the IV she started, but for the dignity she upheld. This scholarship is an investment in more than my education; it is an investment in a future where the healthcare system is infused with the empathy, intelligence, and unwavering strength of Black women. You will be supporting a nurse who understands that healing is not just scientific, but also spiritual and cultural. I carry the weight of my history not as a burden, but as a purpose. I am determined to become an RN who honors the legacy of Black caregivers before me, ensuring that the next generation, starting with my daughter, inherits a world where their health is protected and their lives are cherished without question.

My identity as a Black woman is not a sidebar to my story; it is the foundation. It is a legacy of strength, resilience, and a sacred commitment to community that flows through my veins. This identity has profoundly shaped my journey into nursing, a path I walk not only for myself but for my daughter and for the generations of Black women whose healing hands have historically been overlooked yet have always been the bedrock of care. As a first-generation college student and a single mother, I inherited a narrative of having to work twice as hard. There was no roadmap, only a determined faith and the whispers of my ancestors urging me forward. I built my career from the ground up, becoming a CNA and then an LVN, often studying between double shifts. Every textbook I bought was a choice against another necessity, a reality too familiar in our community. But this struggle taught me a fierce form of self-advocacy and a deep understanding of the systemic barriers that many of my future patients would face. This perspective became critically personal after the birth of my daughter. When a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized, I experienced the healthcare system from the other side. Lying in that ICU bed, listening to the gurgle of the wound vac, I felt a specific kind of vulnerability. As a Black woman, I was acutely aware of the chilling statistics on maternal mortality that disproportionately claim the lives of women who look like me. Despite my medical knowledge as an LVN, a part of me feared being dismissed—a fear rooted in the well-documented experiences of Black women in healthcare. That experience was a terrifying clarion call. It revealed the critical, often deadly, gap between clinical treatment and culturally competent, compassionate care that truly listens to Black women’s bodies and voices. My mission is now clear. My path as a future Registered Nurse is to stand in that gap. I am called to work in women’s health, to be a guardian and an advocate for Black mothers. This mission is urgent, especially considering that Black nurses make up only 6.3% to 11.5% of the RN workforce. In my own program, I am one of a small number of Black women, representing a fraction of my cohort. This statistic is not just a number; it is a daily reality that underscores the critical need for more caregivers who share and intimately understand the cultural and historical experiences of the patients we serve. I will use my voice, tempered by my own trauma and my professional knowledge, to challenge the implicit biases that can lead to tragedy. I have already lived this advocacy, whether holding space for isolated patients during COVID-19 or serving in my community. My goal is to be the nurse that a patient remembers not just for the IV she started, but for the dignity she upheld. This scholarship is an investment in more than my education; it is an investment in a future where the healthcare system is infused with the empathy, intelligence, and unwavering strength of Black women. You will be supporting a nurse who understands that healing is not just scientific, but also spiritual and cultural. I carry the weight of my history not as a burden, but as a purpose. I am determined to become an RN who honors the legacy of Black caregivers before me, ensuring that the next generation, starting with my daughter, inherits a world where their health is protected and their lives are cherished without question.

My identity as a Black woman is not a sidebar to my story; it is the foundation. It is a legacy of strength, resilience, and a sacred culture; community that flows through my veins. This identity has shaped my journey into nursing, a path I walk not only for myself but for my daughter and for the generations of Black women whose healing hands have historically been overlooked yet have always been the bedrock of care. As a first-generation college student and a single mother, I inherited a narrative of having to work twice as hard. There was no roadmap, only a determined faith and the whispers of my ancestors urging me forward. I built my career from the ground up, becoming a CNA and then an LVN, often studying between double shifts. Every textbook I bought was a choice against another necessity, a reality too familiar in our community. But this struggle taught me a fierce form of self-advocacy and a deep understanding of the systemic barriers that many of my future patients would face. I learned to navigate systems not built for us, a skill as crucial as any medical protocol. This lived experience is a form of cultural competency I now bring to every patient interaction, allowing me to recognize the unspoken anxieties of those who feel marginalized by the very systems meant to heal them. This perspective became critically personal after the birth of my daughter. When a severe postpartum infection left me septic and hospitalized, I experienced the healthcare system from the other side. Lying in that ICU bed, listening to the gurgle of the wound vac, I felt a specific kind of vulnerability. As a Black woman, I was acutely aware of the chilling statistics on maternal mortality that disproportionately claim the lives of women who look like me. Despite my medical knowledge as an LVN, a part of me feared being dismissed or not heard—a fear rooted in the well-documented experiences of Black women in healthcare. That experience was a terrifying clarion call. It revealed the critical, often deadly, gap between clinical treatment and culturally competent, compassionate care that truly listens to Black women’s bodies and voices. My mission is now clear. My path as a future Registered Nurse is to stand in that gap. I am called to work in women’s health, to be a guardian and an advocate for Black mothers, to ensure they are seen, heard, and believed. I will use my voice, tempered by my own trauma and my professional knowledge, to challenge the implicit biases that can lead to tragedy. I have already lived this advocacy, whether holding space for isolated patients during COVID-19 or serving in my community, where I’ve learned to build trust where it has been broken. My goal is to be the nurse that a patient remembers not just for the IV started, but for the dignity I upheld. This scholarship is an investment in more than my education; it is an investment in a future where the healthcare system is infused with the empathy, intelligence, and unwavering strength of Black women. You will be supporting a nurse who understands that healing is not just scientific, but also spiritual and cultural. I carry the weight of my history not as a burden, but as a purpose. I am determined to become an RN who honors the legacy of Black caregivers before me, ensuring that the next generation, starting with my daughter, inherits a world where their health is protected and their lives are cherished without question.

My transition into motherhood was meant to be guided by my training as a Licensed Vocational Nurse. I understood the protocols for postnatal care, the importance of hydration, and the warning signs of infection. Yet, two weeks after my daughter’s birth, I found myself in an ICU bed, a patient in the very system I was a part of, confronting a harsh lesson in the gap between clinical knowledge and personal application. The crisis was swift. After a night spent solely focused on my newborn’s needs, I awoke unable to stand, my body gripped by a pain that transcended normal postpartum recovery. The ER was particularly cold and sterile, a loneliness that amplified the fear. The clinical picture emerged with terrifying clarity: a severe uterine infection, a systemic UTI, and critically low potassium levels from profound dehydration. The subsequent surgery left me with the constant, gurgling suction of a wound vac on my abdomen. Lying there, I was confronted with the starkest symbol of my own oversight. How could I care for my newborn with this machine? I was her mother, and I was broken. As a nurse, I had recognized these conditions in others, but I had failed to identify them in myself, blinded by the all-consuming focus of caring for my child. This experience forced a profound professional reckoning. It highlighted a critical vulnerability not just in myself, but in our healthcare approach: we often equip patients with information, but not always with the contextual framework for self-advocacy during life's most overwhelming transitions. I was knowledgeable, yet I was not empowered to apply that knowledge to myself. My recovery, supported by my family who cared for my daughter, became a period of intense reflection. It solidified my resolve to advance my career from an LVN to a Registered Nurse. My goal is to specialize in women’s health, with a specific focus on bridging this exact gap. I want to develop and implement educational programs that empower new parents, not just with discharge paperwork, but with practical, actionable knowledge for self-assessment. I believe in teaching patients and families to recognize the subtle shifts that signal a complication, transforming them from passive recipients of care into active partners in their own well-being. This scholarship represents more than financial assistance; it is an investment in a practitioner who has learned resilience and empathy from the patient’s perspective. I am not just a nursing student; I am a mother and a survivor who has identified a critical need in patient education. I am now pursuing my degree with a clarity of purpose forged in adversity, determined to use my experience to ensure others are equipped to care for themselves as diligently as they care for their loved ones.

My vision for my future as a nurse is not just to perform a role, but to embody a principle I learned early in my career: true healing happens at the intersection of sharp clinical skill and profound human connection. I see myself as a bridge connecting clinical knowledge to compassionate action, and empowering patients and new nurses alike to navigate the healthcare system with confidence and dignity. This vision was first inspired at the bedside, watching charge nurse Tammy hold a patient's hand, keeping calm during a chaotic code and still being available to lead the unit effectively. It was solidified during my own medical crisis after the birth of my daughter, when a severe postpartum infection landed me in the ICU. In an instant, I transitioned from an LVN caregiver to a vulnerable patient, lying alone with the gurgling sound of a wound vac. That experience taught me a brutal but invaluable lesson: we can give patients all the information, but without the context for self-advocacy; especially during life's most overwhelming moments; that knowledge is powerless. As a future Registered Nurse, my primary mission is to close this gap. I will specialize in women’s health, developing clear, actionable educational tools that transform new parents from passive recipients of care into active, confident partners in their well-being. Furthermore, I envision myself as a mentor who pays forward the guidance I received. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me—a calm, competent leader who shows that tasks and compassion are not separate items on a checklist, but two sides of the same coin. My nomination for Nurse of the Year during the COVID-19 pandemic, a time I spent holding my personal iPad for final family goodbyes, affirmed that this depth of care matters. It proved that resilience means being a rock for your patients while remaining a soft place for your family. This is the balanced strength I hope to model for the next generation. Finally, my vision is rooted in wholeness. The same hands that will start IVs and assess patients also find peace in the soil of my garden, nurturing life quietly and patiently. This passion reminds me that growth cannot be rushed, whether for a seedling or a human spirit. It is this balance that will allow me to sustain a long and meaningful career, ensuring I never lose the essential human heart at the core of our profession. My goal is to be more than an RN; it is to be an anchor, an educator, and a mentor. This scholarship is an investment in that vision, supporting a proven nurse, a resilient mother, and a dedicated student who is ready to give everything to a profession that is both a science and an art.

My vision for my future as a nurse is to live out a calling God placed on my life—one rooted in both clinical skill and compassionate service. This calling was forged not only in the hospital but also through my local church, where I learned that true care extends beyond physical walls. My journey in healthcare began as a CNA and then an LVN, a path I navigated as a first-generation college student and single mother. Every step required faith and perseverance, but it was a personal crisis that clarified my purpose. After the birth of my daughter, a severe postpartum infection landed me in the ICU. In an instant, I was the vulnerable patient, listening to the gurgle of a wound vac, praying for strength. That experience revealed a critical gap in healthcare: patients need empowerment, not just information. I am now pursuing my RN degree to close that gap, especially for women in their most fragile moments. My commitment to service is deeply intertwined with my involvement in my local church, which has been my training ground for compassionate outreach. Our church actively serves the vulnerable in our community, and I have had the privilege of co-organizing our annual "Health & Hope" fair for the past three years. This event is more than just offering free blood pressure checks; it is a ministry of presence. I recruit volunteer nurses, set up stations, and spend the day listening to the health concerns of our neighbors, many of whom are uninsured or hesitant to seek medical care. Through this ministry, I’ve been able to bridge the gap between the clinical world and everyday life, offering prayer, a compassionate ear, and guidance alongside basic health screenings. This church-based service directly shapes the nurse I am becoming. It has taught me to look for the whole person, not just the symptom. The patience and listening skills I practice during our church’s community dinners or while delivering groceries to elderly members are the same skills I use at the bedside to comfort an anxious patient. When I held my personal iPad during the COVID-19 pandemic so families could say their final goodbyes, it was this same spirit of service—honed through my church—that sustained me. It is a mindset that says, "See the person, and meet them where they are." My goal is to become an RN who embodies this whole-person care. I want to be a mentor who shows new nurses that clinical expertise and Christ-like compassion are inseparable—one heals the body, the other heals the spirit. This scholarship is an investment in that mission. It would empower a mother, a first-generation student, and a faithful servant to become a nurse leader who treats every patient with the dignity, advocacy, and grace I first learned to practice within the walls of my church.

My vision for my future as a nurse is not simply to fulfill a role, but to live out a calling God placed on my life—one rooted in healing, compassion, advocacy, and servant leadership. Nursing, for me, is a ministry of both skill and heart. It is where clinical excellence meets God-led purpose, and where I can be His hands in moments of vulnerability, fear, and hope. I am not pursuing nursing to earn a title; I am pursuing it to become the nurse I once prayed for when I was the one lying in the hospital bed. My calling began early, but it was strengthened through adversity. As a first-generation college student, I entered the healthcare world with determination, but also uncertainty. No one in my family had navigated higher education, much less nursing school. I worked my way up, first becoming a CNA and then an LVN, often studying between shifts and caring for others while quietly tucking away my own dreams. As a single mother, education was not a luxury—it was a lifeline. Every class, every exam, every long shift was a sacrifice that required faith, perseverance, and God’s grace. I was not just fighting for a career. I was fighting for a future for my child and for the generations after us. My purpose became clearer during a moment that changed the way I view nursing forever. After giving birth to my daughter, I developed a severe postpartum infection and was rushed to the ICU. In seconds, I went from caregiver to patient, from being the one holding the hand to being the one needing to be held. I still remember lying alone, listening to the constant gurgle of the wound vacuum at my bedside, praying for strength and peace. It was a valley moment—physically painful, emotionally overwhelming, and spiritually refining. In that hospital room, God reminded me that information alone is not enough for patients. I had medical knowledge, yet I struggled to advocate for myself. That experience revealed a gap that I now consider part of my purpose: patients need not only education, but empowerment. They need nurses who teach them how to find their voice when fear tries to silence it. As a future Registered Nurse, especially in women’s health, I am committed to closing this gap. I want to create clear, compassionate, faith-informed patient education resources that turn new mothers from passive recipients of care into confident partners in their healing. Another defining chapter of my journey came during the COVID-19 pandemic. As an LVN, I served on the frontlines during one of the most devastating periods healthcare has ever witnessed. There were days when I held my personal iPad so families could say their final goodbyes. It was emotionally heavy work, but God sustained me. I was later nominated for Nurse of the Year—not because of clinical skills alone, but because of the heart and humanity I brought into every patient interaction. That nomination affirmed what God had already been teaching me: nursing is not only what you do, but also who you are for people in their most fragile moments. My leadership vision is shaped by the mentors God placed in my life. I watched nurses like Charge Nurse Tammy lead with grace, steadiness, and compassion—praying with patients, comforting families, and still guiding the team through chaos with excellence. I want to be that kind of leader. My goal is to mentor the next generation of CNAs, LVNs, and new RNs, especially those who doubt themselves the way I once did. Too many aspiring healthcare workers walk into a hospital believing they must choose between clinical competence and compassion. I want to model that the two are inseparable—one heals the body, the other heals the spirit. Financial hardship has never stopped me, but it has made the journey more difficult. As a single mother with no generational financial foundation to rely on, I have had to work twice as hard to keep moving forward. There were semesters when I chose between groceries and textbooks, between gas to drive to clinicals or paying a bill. Yet, every time I prayed for provision, God made a way. This scholarship would not just ease a financial burden—it would multiply impact. It would support a student who refuses to quit, a mother determined to break generational cycles, and a future nurse who intends to pour back into her community. Beyond the hospital walls, I find restoration in the garden—hands in the soil, nurturing life slowly and patiently. Gardening reminds me of God’s timing and His process. Seeds sprout in hiddenness before they bloom. Healing, learning, and growth are the same. Whether for a patient, a child, or a young nurse I will one day mentor, I want to cultivate environments where growth is tended with patience, prayer, and care. My mission is greater than becoming an RN. I want to be an anchor for patients who feel lost, an educator who equips women to advocate for their health, and a mentor who lifts others as she climbs. I want to serve with a heart that reflects God’s love, wisdom, and compassion. Nursing is both a science and a ministry, and I believe God will use my story—not despite the hardships, but because of them—to reach others with empathy, strength, and faith. This scholarship is not simply an investment in my education. It is an investment in my calling, my family’s future, and the women, families, and future nurses whose lives I will impact. With God’s guidance, I am ready to continue this journey—faith-first, purpose-driven, and committed to serving with both skill and heart.

If you’d asked me years ago why I wanted to be a nurse, I would have talked about the nurses I watched in the ICU. I was a CNA and telemetry tech then, completely in awe of people like charge nurse Tammy. I saw her run a code, her voice calm and sure, while one of her hands held the patient’s. She never forgot the person in the middle of the medical emergency. That’s what I thought nursing was; that perfect mix of skill and heart. It’s what made me become an LVN, even while working full-time and raising my young daughter. But what truly shaped my journey was a lesson I never expected to learn from the other side of the bedrail. Two weeks after my daughter was born, my own nursing knowledge didn’t save me. I woke up one morning and simply couldn’t stand. The pain was terrifying. I remember the chill of the ER sheets and the sterile smell that made me feel completely alone. The doctors told me I had a uterine infection and UTI which induced my septicemia. I was also dehydration. After surgery, I was left with a wound vac, a machine that gurgled and sucked on my stomach constantly. Lying there, I felt like the biggest failure. I was a nurse. I knew the signs of sepsis. But I’d been so focused on my newborn that I’d disappeared. I was her mother, and I was broken. That experience changed everything. It lit a fire in me. I realized we send new mother’s home with a stack of papers, but we don’t always make them feel empowered to truly listen to their own bodies. I’ve reached the ceiling as an LVN, and I knew it was time to further my education and become an RN. I need to be the one who helps close that gap. I want to work in women’s health to create resources that are real and usable, to teach new families how to advocate for themselves before a small worry becomes a crisis. My own scare taught me that the most important tool in healthcare isn't just what you know; its making sure patients feel seen and heard. When I need a break from the world of medicine, I find my balance in my garden. Nursing is all about beeping machines and high stakes decisions, but my garden is quiet. There’s no rushing a seed to sprout. There’s just the sun on my back, the dirt under my nails, and the simple, honest work of helping things grow. It’s also where I connect with my daughter. She loves helping me water the plants and hunt for ripe strawberries. In those moments, I’m not thinking about care plans or diagnoses. I’m just a mom, showing her the magic of nurturing a tiny seed into something strong and alive. That time with her, away from the hospital lights, is what refills my cup. It reminds me why I’m fighting so hard to build a better future for us, and for the families I hope to serve. This scholarship would mean I could cut back on a few overtime shifts and breathe a little easier. It would mean more time for my studies and more afternoons in the garden with my daughter. You’d be betting on someone who has been in the trenches, both as a nurse and a patient. I know what it takes to care for people, and I know what it takes to care for myself. I am ready to give this profession everything I have.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU. As a CNA and telemetry tech in 2010, I was in awe of nurses like charge nurse Tammy, who could direct a chaotic code while simultaneously holding a patient’s hand. She showed me that healthcare is the powerful fusion of sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. This revelation is the core of why I have chosen to pursue a degree in healthcare. It is a profession that demands we treat the disease while honoring the person. In 2013, I became an LVN to act on this calling. For ten years, I’ve loved my work, but I have reached the limit of my license. My desire to understand the complex ‘why’ behind the care I deliver compels me to advance. This need was personally driven home by a severe postpartum medical crisis where a systemic infection led to sepsis. In an instant, I transitioned from caregiver to patient. That experience gifted me with an intimate understanding of vulnerability and a fierce determination to provide care that is as empathetic as it is expert. As a woman in the healthcare field, I hope to make a positive impact by embodying this principle of whole-person care and by lifting others as I climb. I witnessed the critical need for this human touch during the COVID-19 pandemic. I spent countless hours using my personal iPad to connect isolated patients with their families for final goodbyes. It was a devastating period, but it solidified my role as both a rock for my patients and a soft place for my own family. This dedication was recognized when I was nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023; a moment that affirmed that compassion matters. My goal is to become an RN to develop complex care plans and make critical decisions. But my greater mission is to become a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me: a guide who demonstrates that true healing happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. I will leverage my experience as a woman, a mother, and a former patient to advocate for both my colleagues and those in our care, ensuring our profession never loses its essential human heart. This scholarship would be a game changer, allowing me to cut back on overtime shifts and dedicate more time to my studies. You would be investing in a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to elevate this profession. Thank you for considering my story

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my family, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My decision to pursue my education at a community college is deeply rooted in the most defining chapters of my life: my journey as a mother and my decade of experience as a Licensed Vocational Nurse. These experiences have taught me the irreplaceable value of practical, accessible education that equips you to meet life's most pressing challenges head-on. My path to nursing began over a decade ago as a CNA, inspired by mentors who showed me that true care lies at the intersection of clinical skill and human connection. When I became a young mother, that drive intensified. I made the deliberate choice to attend a community college to become an LVN because it offered a rigorous, respected pathway that I could navigate while supporting my daughter. It was a grind of full-time work and night classes, but it was the foundation that allowed me to build a stable, fulfilling career for ten years. However, two life-altering experiences solidified my need to return to a community college to advance my education. The first was a severe postpartum medical crisis. After the birth of my daughter, I developed a catastrophic infection that led to sepsis and surgery. In an instant, I transitioned from caregiver to patient. Lying in a hospital bed with a wound vac on my abdomen, I understood vulnerability in a way no textbook could ever teach. That experience gifted me with a profound, empathetic insight into the patient's perspective—an insight I now see as essential for exceptional nursing. The second experience was the COVID-19 pandemic. As an LVN on the front lines, I witnessed the profound isolation of patients separated from their families. I used my own iPad to facilitate final goodbyes, an act that underscored a critical truth: technology is a tool, but the human heart is the instrument of true healing. This period, for which I was humbled to be nominated for Nurse of the Year in 2023, proved my resilience and deepened my commitment to the profession. These experiences have clarified my future educational goals. I have reached the scope of practice for an LVN. I am now driven to become a Registered Nurse to gain a deeper understanding of the "why" behind complex disease processes, to develop comprehensive care plans, and to assume a leadership role on the healthcare team. My immediate goal is to successfully complete the LVN to RN bridge program at this community college. Long-term, I plan to return to the hospital setting, specializing in medical-surgical or postpartum care, where I can mentor future CNAs and LVNs just as I was once guided. This scholarship is an investment in a proven caregiver, a resilient mother, and a dedicated student. Your support would allow me to reduce my overtime hours, dedicating more time to mastering the advanced knowledge required to become the competent, compassionate RN I am called to be. Thank you for considering my application.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at a bedside in the ICU. As a CNA in 2010, I was in awe of nurses like charge nurse Tammy, who could direct a chaotic code while simultaneously holding a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor. She embodied a powerful truth: nursing is the fusion of sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. Inspired, I became an LVN in 2013, supporting my young daughter by working full-time while studying nights—a grind that cemented my commitment. For a decade, I’ve loved being an LVN. But a personal crisis revealed how much I still had to learn. Two weeks after my daughter’s birth, I became the patient. I was hospitalized with a severe uterine infection and sepsis. Lying in a cold ER, unable to stand, I was a nurse who had missed the signs in myself. I awoke from surgery with the constant gurgle of a wound vac on my abdomen. I was a mother, and I felt broken. That experience was a brutal, transformative lesson. It closed the gap between my clinical knowledge and the visceral reality of being a patient—the vulnerability, the fear, the complete loss of control. It taught me that true patient advocacy requires not just education, but the empathy born from shared experience. I am now pursuing my RN to expand my scope of practice and understand the complex "why" behind the care I provide. My inspiration is dual: the exemplary nurses who first showed me the way, and the memory of my own vulnerability. I am driven to become a nurse who not only manages complex care plans but who can truly see the patient behind the chart, because I have been there. To me, "human touch" is the intentional act of connecting a patient's humanity to their clinical reality. It is not merely a physical gesture, but a holistic philosophy of care that says, "I see you, and you are more than your diagnosis." In an era of advanced technology, it is the irreplaceable element that transforms a treatment protocol into healing. The impact of this philosophy is profound. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the absence of family visitors created a void of loneliness that medicine alone could not fill. I remember holding my personal iPad for hours, facilitating final goodbyes between patients and their loved ones. My hand was not on the patient for comfort, but I was providing a different kind of human touch: bridging an impossible gap. That act had no medical code, but its therapeutic impact was undeniable—offering solace to the dying and a semblance of closure to the grieving. I would go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. That period taught me that "human touch" often means being a vessel for compassion, even when it demands personal resilience. This concept was also starkly absent during my own medical crisis after the birth of my daughter. As I lay in a sterile, cold ER with a systemic infection, I was surrounded by competent clinical care. But what I craved was a connection that acknowledged my terror as a new mother, lying there broken, separated from her newborn. The clinical efficiency, without that reassuring "human touch," deepened my sense of isolation and failure. These experiences have shaped my practice. "Human touch" is the calm authority of a veteran nurse holding a hand during a code. It is pausing before a task to explain the "why" to an anxious patient, empowering them as a partner in their care. It is the simple, powerful act of true presence. As I advance to become an RN, my goal is to be a standard-bearer for this principle. I will leverage my expanded knowledge to not only make critical decisions but to ensure those decisions are delivered with unwavering compassion. True healing happens at the intersection of competence and connection, and I am committed to honoring both.

My transition into motherhood was meant to be guided by my training as a Licensed Vocational Nurse. I understood the protocols for postnatal care, the importance of hydration, and the warning signs of infection. Yet, two weeks after my daughter’s birth, I found myself in an ICU bed, a patient in the very system I was a part of, confronting a harsh lesson in the gap between clinical knowledge and personal application. The crisis was swift. After a night spent solely focused on my newborn’s needs, I awoke unable to stand, my body gripped by a pain that transcended normal postpartum recovery. The ER was particularly cold and sterile, a loneliness that amplified the fear. The clinical picture emerged with terrifying clarity: a severe uterine infection, a systemic UTI, and critically low potassium levels from profound dehydration. The subsequent surgery left me with the constant, gurgling suction of a wound vac on my abdomen. Lying there, I was confronted with the starkest symbol of my own oversight. How could I care for my newborn with this machine? I was her mother, and I was broken. As a nurse, I had recognized these conditions in others, but I had failed to identify them in myself, blinded by the all-consuming focus of caring for my child. This experience forced a profound professional reckoning. It highlighted a critical vulnerability not just in myself, but in our healthcare approach: we often equip patients with information, but not always with the contextual framework for self-advocacy during life's most overwhelming transitions. I was knowledgeable, yet I was not empowered to apply that knowledge to myself. My recovery, supported by my family who cared for my daughter, became a period of intense reflection. It solidified my resolve to advance my career from an LVN to a Registered Nurse. My goal is to specialize in women’s health, with a specific focus on bridging this exact gap. I want to develop and implement educational programs that empower new parents, not just with discharge paperwork, but with practical, actionable knowledge for self-assessment. I believe in teaching patients and families to recognize the subtle shifts that signal a complication, transforming them from passive recipients of care into active partners in their own well-being. This scholarship represents more than financial assistance; it is an investment in a practitioner who has learned resilience and empathy from the patient’s perspective. I am not just a nursing student; I am a mother and a survivor who has identified a critical need in patient education. I am now pursuing my degree with a clarity of purpose forged in adversity, determined to use my experience to ensure others are equipped to care for themselves as diligently as they care for their loved ones.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a single mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my babygirl, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my family, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a single mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my daughter. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my babygirl, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my family, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my family, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.

My journey to nursing didn’t start in a classroom; it started at the bedside in the ICU, as a CNA and telemetry tec in 2010. I was in awe of the nurses I worked with. They weren’t just checking tasks off a list. During a code, one veteran RN and charge nurse Tammy, would simultaneously direct the team and hold a patient’s hand, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos. It was watching her and others like her that made me realize nursing was more than a job; it was about combining sharp clinical skill with profound human connection. In 2013, with a young daughter to support, I took the leap. I worked full-time while studying nights to become an LVN, a grind that was worth every sleepless night. For ten years now, I’ve loved being an LVN. But I’ve always known I had more to give. I’ve reached the limit of what my license allows, and the desire to understand the ‘why’ behind the care I provide has only grown stronger. I’m ready to think and act at the RN level. Balancing this ambition with life has been my biggest challenge. Being a mom means my study time often happens after bedtime, and my dreams are financed by overtime shifts. Then came COVID. The fear we all felt was real, but nothing compared to the loneliness of the patients. I remember spending countless hours during many shifts in a room with patients whose family couldn't visit, holding my personal iPad so families could see and speak to their loved ones. Sometimes for the last time. I’d go home, strip my scrubs in the garage, and try to shower away the heartache before hugging my own family. Those years taught me a strength I didn’t know I had. They forced me to be a rock for my patients and a soft place for my family, proving that I could bear immense weight without breaking. This is why being nominated for Texas Health Nurse of the Year in 2023 meant so much to me. It wasn’t about winning an award; it was a moment of being seen. It felt like my facility was saying, “We see how much you care, and it matters.” That recognition fuels my next step; the LVN to RN bridge program. My goal isn’t just a new title. I want to be the kind of nurse who elevates the entire unit. I plan to return to the specialty that inspired me, now with the knowledge to develop complex care plans and the authority to make critical decisions. Most importantly, I want to be a mentor. I want to be for a new CNA or LVN what Tammy was for me; a guide, showing them that true care happens at the intersection of competence and compassion. This scholarship would be a game-changer for my family and me. It would mean cutting back on just a few of those overtime shifts, giving me more precious hours to dedicate to my studies and my family. You’d be investing in more than a student; you’d be supporting a dedicated mother and a proven nurse who is ready to give everything she has to this profession. Thank you for considering my story.