When it comes to relying on faith many times's all I had. There is a moment that lives in my memory clearly — a season of my life where everything that could feel uncertain did. I was navigating new motherhood after dropping out of college and was trying to figure out how to provide for a child while also figuring out who I was becoming in the process. The weight of it was unlike anything I had experienced before. There were days when I did not know how the bills would get paid, whether I was making the right decisions, or if the path I was on was ever going to lead somewhere better. On those days, faith was not just a comfort — it was the only solid ground I had to stand on. I have always believed in something greater than myself, but it was not until I was truly tested that my faith moved from the background of my life to the very center of it. When you are a single mother with limited resources and an enormous amount of responsibility, you quickly realize that worry alone solves nothing. I could not think my way out of every problem or work hard enough to outrun every fear. At some point, I had to surrender the things I could not control and trust that the path in front of me was being ordered by hands far steadier than mine. That shift changed everything. Not my circumstances immediately, but my perspective. Instead of waking up focused on everything that was going wrong, I started waking up grateful for everything that was still standing. I had my health. I had my daughter. I had my mind and my drive. And slowly, opportunities began to open up that I do not believe were coincidental. The job at Froedtert, the decision to enroll at Milwaukee Area Technical College, the mentors and relationships that have poured into me along the way — none of it felt accidental. It felt like confirmation that I was being guided even when I could not see the full picture. Faith also taught me how to extend grace to myself. As a single mother and a student, I set extremely high standards for what I expect from myself, and falling short of them used to send me into a spiral of guilt and self-doubt. But believing that I was created with purpose — that my story was not a mistake and my struggles were not punishments — helped me treat my own journey with more patience and compassion. I stopped measuring my progress against what it looked like on the outside and started trusting the process unfolding on the inside. I carry that faith with me into every role I occupy — as a mother, a student, a healthcare worker, and a future business owner. It is the foundation beneath every goal I set and every obstacle I face. It reminds me that I was not built to give up, that my daughter is watching me model resilience, and that every hard season has a purpose even when that purpose is not yet clear. Faith did not remove the mountain. It gave me the courage to climb it anyway — and I am still climbing

When people hear that I am a full-time student, a part-time medical assistant, and a single mother, the most common response is some version of "how do you do it all?" The truth is, I do not always do it all perfectly. What I do is show up consistently, plan intentionally, and remind myself every single day that the temporary discomfort of this season is building something permanent for my daughter and me. Balance, for me, is not about equal parts. It is about knowing which part needs the most from me on any given day and being flexible enough to adjust without losing sight of the bigger picture. My weeks are carefully structured — class schedules, work shifts, and my daughter's needs are mapped out in advance because there is no room for guessing when you are the only one steering the ship. To have the best time management I have an agenda for due dates and assignments to avoid late and rushed homework submissions. On the weekends, I'm free so I get a lot done those two days if needed. What remains constant through all of the moving pieces is my commitment to being present. When I am with my daughter, I am with her — not mentally running through my to-do list or scrolling through lecture notes. She deserves my full attention during the time we share, and honoring that keeps me grounded in my reason for doing all of this in the first place. She is not a footnote in my story. She is the whole point. This is exactly where this scholarship has the power to make a profound difference. Right now, financial pressure is one of the biggest threats to my balance. When money is tight, I am forced to pick up extra hours at work, which pulls time away from studying and from my daughter. It creates a cycle that is difficult to break without outside support. This scholarship would ease that pressure in a real and immediate way — allowing me to stay focused on my coursework, perform at my best academically, and still be the present, engaged mother my daughter deserves. Earning my degree in Healthcare Service Management is not just a personal milestone. It is the foundation of every goal I have — owning a nursing home, launching a care facility inspection agency, and creating a stable, thriving life for my family. This scholarship would not just help me finish school. It would help me finish strong. And finishing strong is the only option I have ever been willing to consider.

Growing up in a single-parent household taught me things no classroom ever could. I learned early that love does not always look like abundance — sometimes it looks like a parent stretching every dollar, skipping meals so you do not have to, and showing up exhausted but still showing up. Watching my parent carry the weight of an entire household alone planted something in me that I did not have words for as a child, but I understand clearly now: a deep, unshakeable drive to do more, be more, and make sure that sacrifice meant something. That upbringing did not make my life harder — it made me harder. It built in me a level of empathy that I believe is one of my greatest strengths. When I walk into a room, I naturally tune into people. I notice who is struggling, who needs encouragement, and who just needs someone to treat them like they matter. I did not learn that in a textbook. I learned it by watching what it means to need help and how much a little compassion can change a person's day — or their entire life. Those lessons followed me directly into my career path. I have worked as a dietary aid in a nursing home, and I currently work as a medical assistant at Froedtert Hospital while pursuing my degree in Healthcare Service Management at Milwaukee Area Technical College. Every role I have stepped into has confirmed the same thing: I am meant to be in spaces where people need care, advocacy, and dignity. The elderly residents I worked alongside in the nursing home reminded me so much of the strength I saw growing up — people who had given so much of themselves to others and deserved to be treated with the utmost respect in return. My goals reflect everything that shaped me. I want to own or manage a nursing home and create an inspection agency for long-term care facilities to fight the neglect that too many vulnerable people experience in silence. But beyond the titles and the business plans, what I really want is to build environments where people feel safe, seen, and valued. I want to be the person in the room who makes sure no one is overlooked — because I know what it feels like to come from a place where being overlooked was a real possibility, and I know how much it matters when someone decides you are worth fighting for. I am also a single mother now, and the cycle has come full circle in the most beautiful way. I am raising my daughter with the same grit and love I was raised with, and I am doing it while building something that will outlast my struggles. She will not just hear me tell her that she can do hard things — she will watch me do them. That is the most important lesson I could ever pass down. My upbringing gave me roots. My daughter gives me direction. And my passion for people gives me purpose. Whatever room I walk into — a hospital, a boardroom, a care facility — I intend to use every talent I have to leave it better than I found it. That has always been who I am. Now I am simply on my way to becoming who I was always meant to be.

The most challenging part of being a student and a single mother is not the exhaustion, though that is real. It is not the financial strain, though that weighs heavily too. The hardest part is the quiet guilt that creeps in on the days when I feel like I cannot give my all to either role. Some nights I am up late finishing an assignment after my daughter is asleep, wondering if I should have spent that last hour with her instead. Other days I am sitting in class mentally running through whether she is okay, whether I packed the right snack, whether I remembered to sign that permission slip. The mental load of motherhood does not clock out when school starts, and the demands of being a full-time student do not pause when my daughter needs me. Learning to carry both — and to forgive myself on the days I feel like I am falling short in one — has been my greatest personal challenge. I am currently enrolled full-time at Milwaukee Area Technical College pursuing an associate degree in Healthcare Service Management while working part-time as a medical assistant at Froedtert Hospital. My days are structured down to the hour out of necessity. There is no room for error in my schedule, which means when something unexpected happens — a sick day, a car issue, a shift change — the entire balance is disrupted. I do not have a co-parent to call as a backup. I am the plan A and the plan B, every single time. That reality pushes me to be incredibly disciplined and resourceful, but it also means I operate with very little margin. Financial stress sits at the center of that. Tuition, childcare, groceries, transportation — every expense competes for the same limited income, and there are moments when I have had to make choices no parent wants to make. But I want to be clear: my daughter is not a barrier to my success. She is the reason I refuse to stop. Every time I consider how tired I am or how far away my goals feel, I think about what I am building for her. I want her to grow up watching her mother finish what she started. I want her to see that being a single parent does not mean putting your dreams on hold — it means finding a deeper reason to pursue them. She deserves a stable future, and I am the one who has to create it. This scholarship would directly impact my ability to do that. Financial relief means I could redirect my energy toward my studies and my daughter. It means I could be more present — not just physically, but mentally — in both roles. Beyond the immediate relief, this scholarship represents something I want my daughter to one day understand: that people believed in her mother when the road was hard, and that generosity has the power to change the trajectory of an entire family. My long-term goals are rooted in a genuine passion for protecting and uplifting vulnerable people, particularly the elderly. I plan to own or manage a nursing home and establish an inspection agency for long-term care facilities to address the neglect that too often goes unnoticed. I know that path requires education, experience, and perseverance — all things I am actively building. This scholarship would help make sure that financial hardship is not what stands between me and the future I am working so hard to reach. I would like to pay it forward as best as I can and give some of the generosity given to me to others.

Hi, my name is Lauryn. I live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and I am currently working part-time as a medical assistant at Froedtert Hospital while enrolled full-time at Milwaukee Area Technical College for an associate degree in Healthcare Service Management. Balancing work, school, and motherhood is not always easy, but every long day reminds me exactly why I am doing this. I am a single mom of one, and she is the greatest blessing I could ever have. Watching her grow up seeing her mother chase her goals is something I hope shapes who she becomes. I want her to know that no circumstance is too heavy to carry when your purpose is bigger than your challenges. I first started in the healthcare field as a dietary aid at a nursing home before COVID. That role may seem small on paper, but it changed me in ways I did not expect. Walking those halls every day, delivering meals, and stopping to listen to a resident tell a story they had probably told a hundred times — that was where I found my calling. Working there and building genuine relationships with the residents really shaped my passion for people, especially the elderly. They have so much wisdom, are seen as mentors, and play important roles in people's everyday lives as grandparents, aunts, uncles, and community pillars. That kind of influence is something we can never have too much of. Then COVID hit, and I watched how vulnerable we truly were. I saw how quickly isolation, understaffing, and lack of oversight could strip dignity away from people who had spent their entire lives giving to others. I realized that my passion was not just about showing up with a warm smile — it was about making sure the systems around these individuals were working the way they should be. I have a lot of respect for our elders and believe they deserve protection, love, compassion, and a helping hand at the very least. That belief is no longer just personal — it has become my professional mission. That is what led me to pursue my degree in Healthcare Service Management. I wanted the knowledge and credentials to not only work within these systems but to improve them. My current role as a medical assistant at Froedtert has given me hands-on clinical experience, but my coursework is helping me understand the administrative, regulatory, and operational side of healthcare that I know will be essential to my long-term goals. My plans in the healthcare field are to own or manage my own nursing home and, beyond that, to launch an inspection agency specifically for nursing homes and group homes. There is a real gap in accountability across these facilities, and families often have no reliable way of knowing whether their loved ones are being treated with the care they deserve. I want to be part of closing that gap — creating a layer of oversight that protects residents and holds facilities to a higher standard. Neglect in long-term care is not just a policy issue; it is a human rights issue, and I intend to treat it that way. I also want to keep showing up as myself throughout all of it. My personality has created so many meaningful relationships already, and I want them to continue to grow and flourish. I believe that leadership rooted in genuine connection is what this field needs more of — and that is exactly the kind of leader I am working to become. This scholarship would bring me one step closer to making that vision a reality.