Truth. You will never find it in the physical realm. When the foundation of truth lies in the perspective of humans, it's subjective. Our knowledge intrinsically operates within the restrictions of the three-dimensional plane. What we sense through touch, taste, sight, or experience solely influences our opinions, beliefs, or "truths." Anything imperceivable is disregarded. Therefore, anything created in our vision will always be tainted with our limited human qualities. We lack the insight to fathom a universal truth because we seek a tangible or measurable “truth.” However, truth is a limitless definitive matter when our God's omnipresent and comprehensive wisdom crafts it. To satisfy our curiosity for truth, we've created an illusion of "truth" through numerical systems and ways to measure/obtain data, and society has come to a consensus that anything that can withstand the scientific method must be fact. But once again, man-made inventions are vulnerable to discrepancies and errors due to possible implicit biases and the inability to comprehend anything outside the human experience. Our system to find “truth” holds zero merit, but God offers us the absolute truth that can satisfy our curiosity and answer our questions for purpose and understanding. God recognized our struggle to comprehend the spiritual principles beyond our world and created two solutions: The Holy Spirit and The Bible. God blessed us with the gift of the Holy Spirit. He granted it to us so we can exceed our preconceived notions and break down the mental barriers we've imprisoned ourselves. The Holy Spirit is like the messenger middle-man; it closes the gap between Earth and Heaven and human "truth" versus a Godly truth. "Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God. And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual (1 Corinthians 2:12–13)." He works through people by bestowing them discernment and instruction (through the Holy Spirit). God instilled the motivation in chosen individuals to translate and transcribe His word in writing for the creation of the Bible, so that His people could better understand His principles. The Bible is the only tactile form of God's pure truth, a reference to His commandments to rewire our brain's thought process of truth, obtain salvation, and come to know Him. "No prophecy of Scripture comes from someone's own interpretation. For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit (2 Peter 1:20–21)." This year, I got to know the love of God and surrendered EVERY aspect of life to Him. My faith was no longer a sector of life that only received attention on Sundays. Pursuing what I believed to be true caused me to fall so hard that my heart was devastated so severely that I had no choice but to seek the ultimate healer. He was there for me with open arms, ready to heal the wounds that no doctor or Western medicinal prescription could ever mend. My "truth" was a false fantasy that would've led me to a mediocre future that only explored the surface level of my potential. I relinquished my "truth," stopped following my heart and flesh, and started following God's plan for me. Consequently, my life has been blessed abundantly beyond what I imagined. Now I'm reaping the fruit of living in His truth, and I'd choose His truth over mine a thousand times again; glory be to God.

"Atlas," the Greek word for "enduring," and appropriately, the name of a memorable character of a great Greek mythology. Atlas was a titan condemned and punished by a Greek god to hold the load of the sky and heavens on his back, for which he would remain with the extraordinary strain and weight on his body for eternity. The story of Atlas is captivating because the unimaginable toil seemingly depicts the ultimate punishment. However, my mom's story is superior because her four children were her world, and she voluntarily supported that tremendous load on her back. My parents divorced when I was five, and through the eyes of a child, my mom was always a mythical creature to me. My mom is an immigrant thousands of miles from home, a black woman in a country historically built on racial oppression, and a single mother operating primarily on a single income. Who, despite never receiving $10,000+ in child support and depending on government assistance at one point, purchased a home and raised four kids while continuing to support them through college. She represents the individuals the statistics bet against, and the socioeconomic model abandons. Yet, somehow, she overcame her odds. How did she do it? Her story will forever be more significant than any folk tale, fiction, or mythology. My mother is my biggest role model, motivation, and inspiration. When the financial and mental strains pushed her down, she always pushed back, for she was determined not to crumble under the weight to remain strong for her children. It takes a village to raise a child, and my village was a matriarchy. An atypical family structure was all I ever knew, but looking back, I wouldn't change that part of my upbringing. The experience of growing up in a woman-led household empowered a fond soft spot and deep admiration for women inside my heart, which significantly influenced my aspirations. My subjects of interest and love for people led me to pursue nursing, but my mom and the strong woman who helped her along the way refined my purpose. I will be a nurse specializing in women's health, specifically working in labor & delivery and Neonatal Intensive Care Units to support women by lifting some of the health-specific pressures of womanhood off their shoulders. I'm only in the position to achieve my wildest dreams today because a woman (my mother) was strong for me, so I desire to pay it forward and be strong for other women. In May 2024, I graduated with my Associate's degree in Applied Science, marking the halfway point in achieving my Bachelor's degree in nursing. Until I complete nursing school, I'm fulfilling the small milestones of my goals by actively serving the women in my community. I consistently volunteer in my church's nursery, which provides free childcare during services, Respite Nights, which provides free childcare for foster and adoptive families, and most recently, the labor & delivery Unit at Medical City Plano. As I continue venturing forth in my academic, career, and community service goals, I know there will be obstacles. Through the stress of studying for major exams or the worries of financing college that swirl in my head, my mother's spirit permanently dwells inside me. Her impact resides in between the spaces of every beat of my heart. Her example of strength and perseverance taught me the mantra I consider my lifeline that motivates me to succeed. We must endure limitations until we gather the strength to conquer them because there can only be one winner in the battle between you and your challenging circumstances.

I was in elementary school when I self-actualized that society saw me as black and not the various warm tones of brown that speckled across my body. Through the relentless teasing and microaggressions, the hostility towards my skin was apparent; I recognized the differences before I knew multiplication. In the moments I was most beaten down, I remember yearning that I’d been born a different race, in actuality, I wanted to be desired and respected. My confidence was planted in weed infested dirt but was still expected to grow into a big, beautifully strong flower. No recognition or representation to water the seed of my beauty. Nothing to reaffirm my existence. Nothing to prove that how I come is how I should be. I had to fight and break through the colorism, racism, and texturism that would constantly degrade and pin me down. I didn't have blonde hair or blue eyes, and I had to make peace with that. It wasn't the type of beautiful I was meant to be. I dug deep inside and forged my own beauty standard from my insecurities and doubts. I learned how to be confident in my skin, and my color returned. I wasn't just black because I was the color of brown sugar, rich molasses, and the autumn leaves that litter the earth in the fall. I replanted my confidence in nourishing soil and pulled out the weeds. I tended to my self-esteem like a fragile sapling, and soon, I sprouted into a confident young woman. The internal war that raged within me had finally ended, but the obstacles didn't stop there. As I mature and advance in my education, I'll soon be approaching the life milestone of securing a career. My dream job is to be a nurse practitioner specializing in the Pediatric/Neonatal ICU or Labor & Delivery unit. This summer, I landed a volunteer opportunity in my dream specialty! I had prayed and pleaded for this position, and by God's grace, my wishes came to fruition! On my first volunteer shift, I was so infatuated with getting a glimpse into my future as a nurse to notice – but on my second shift, the rose-colored glasses lowered, and it dawned on me. I was the only black woman working on the floor at the lowest possible position. There were zero nurse role models in my demographic, and I truly felt like a black sheep. This experience thoroughly highlighted the lack of diversity in highly skilled and elite careers. Diversity not only cultivates the self-esteem of POC seeking professional careers, but enhances health professionals' learning environments and quality of care. Black women have the highest birth mortality rates in the U.S. About 6.3% of nurses in the U.S. are black. The correlation between low representation in employment and high fatalities is not a coincidence. Cultural competency is vital for providing the best possible patient care, and studies have shown that diversity can lead to better patient health outcomes. Professional environments are not exempt from the harsh reality that racial inequality and inequity are still significant problems in our society. Being a black woman in the U.S. doesn't mean that I cannot achieve my goals, but I must be mindful that I live in a culture that resists my progress. I’m motivated to chase my dreams to make space for the next generation of young black girls, even if that means being uncomfortable in underrepresented workplaces. In fact, I want to be an example to all young girls of color that we are capable and qualified to work in predominantly white careers.

I am pursuing a healthcare career, a sector where discrimination and inequality can have dangerous or even fatal consequences for patients, yet it is still a persistent problem. The United States has been known as a cultural melting pot for centuries, and Texas is no stranger to an increasingly diverse population. In 2022, the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, a decision that would later heavily impact Texan women. Systematic sexism and the lack of cultural literacy have added fuel to the fire of gender disparities that plague our country. In the midst of it all, women are marginalized and feeling unempowered and silenced. At the same time, the male-predominated policymakers and physicians argue about what's best for women without actually consulting us. As little girls, many dreamed of the white-picket-fence fantasy surrounded by the perfect husband and children. Well, here's a reality check. One Thanksgiving, my family continued our tradition of each family member stating what they were thankful for until every grandparent, aunt, uncle, and cousin shared. My cousin and newly first-time mother, stated through tears that she was thankful to have had a delivery with her life intact given the country that she lives as a racial minority and woman. Her emotional response came from a place of genuine fear, yet gratitude. What did she mean? We have the privilege of being United States citizens; surely that doesn't happen here, right? I made a bee-line to the computer as soon as I got home. Unsure of what to search for, I hesitantly typed "black woman birth," not knowing if Google could answer my vague dilemma. A pit formed in my stomach; the first page was flooded with information on high maternal mortality rates and complications for women, especially for women of color like myself. With the advancements in technology and scientific progress, I thought that the reality of living in a first-world country was that we had state-of-the-art healthcare. I had received confirmation that this was an issue and saw the data to support it, but on those infinite pages of Google, there was no solution in sight but I knew I had to be a part of it. I believe that no woman should die at the hands of health negligence, but there won’t be a simple or quick fix to flatten this concern. The solution will need a generational commitment to awareness and action. It’s time to be empowered. Whether you desire to have children or not, whether you want to enter healthcare or not, all women must be educated on the political, social , and health matters that pertain to her body! All women, no matter the career or professional backgrounds can make a difference by speaking out and pursuing change, so do it! I plan to transfer to Texas Woman's University in the Spring 2025 academic semester to attend their nursing school program located at their Dallas campus. I want to be a nurse specializing in women's health, specifically working in labor & delivery and Neonatal Intensive Care Units. I am empowered to support women by lifting some of the health-specific pressures and risks of womanhood off their shoulders. Until then, I'm fulfilling the small milestones by actively serving the women in my community. I consistently volunteer in my church's nursery, which provides free childcare during services, Respite Nights, which provides free childcare for foster and adoptive families, and most recently, the labor & delivery Unit at Medical City Plano. This past May, I obtained my Associate's degree in Applied Science, marking the halfway point in achieving my Bachelor's degree in nursing.

It was a scorching August afternoon. My forehead glistened as I sprinted to the playground and eagerly slammed down on the swing set. As I began to pump my legs back and forth, I started to feel it—a faint breeze. As I gathered momentum, I was soon soaring through the sky; bliss settled on my face as the cold air enveloped me, and I felt the gaps between my clothes and skin. There was no better feeling— Suddenly! A commotion and a crowd formed underneath me as I whizzed past them, looking down from my haven in the clouds. They were trying to alert me: “Your brother broke his arm!” A frenzy of wood chips flew in the air as I dug my heels into the earth, coming to a screeching stop. I was at the scene in mere moments. And lo and behold, there was my lethargic five-year-old brother, his humerus oddly misshapen in a jagged zigzag. Other kids grimaced and looked away, but seven-year-old me reacted as if all the times I had played pretend doctor with my toys had prepared me for this moment. I gently helped him to his feet and walked him inside, and soon, we were off to the hospital. The next couple of months involved me carrying his backpack, walking him to class before school, and reminding him to remove his brace and stretch his arm after school. Fast forward thirteen years. My not-so-little baby brother is eighteen—an adult by law—with four freshly extracted wisdom teeth. While my mother worked, I gracefully and effortlessly stepped into my caregiver role. I grabbed pudding cups, microwaved mashed potatoes, refilled his water cup, and reheated hot packs. Not once did I feel burdened attending to his recovery. I attentively measured out his prescribed 10 mg of Ketorolac and cooked him hot cereal to eat before taking his medication. I went the extra mile to organize everything on a tray for his convenience. I proudly presented the tray to him, knowing that my care and consideration for my brother’s well-being were apparent. My brother has matured into a compassionate and intelligent individual, and I couldn’t be more proud of him. Nurturing others is something I take pride in, so it fills me with joy knowing that I’ve positively contributed to his upbringing. Aging and growing up is a beautiful thing to observe, and I’ve been extremely fortunate that I haven’t lost a loved one close to me. I used to think that because I hadn’t experienced a close death, people wouldn’t consider my passion for nursing to be profound. The truth is, I am blessed to have the privilege of watching my loved ones thrive. You don’t have to lose something to understand the value of love. I want to fight for people’s health and pass that privilege on so that their family members can experience the joy of watching one another walk through the stages of life despite health challenges, loving them the hardest while they are still here. Loving my family is how I found my purpose in nursing. There is nothing more fulfilling than knowing your purpose and pursuing it. I want to be a nurse because I want the gift of life to prosper and be celebrated. I’ve cared for family members and communities I volunteer for, but I know that a vital part of fulfilling my purpose is advancing and growing my skills. By investing in my education, I can provide more aid to more people. This is why graduating from nursing school and seeking higher education are essential for me.

From a young age, I was aware of my calling on this earth. Young children are very intuitive and, due to their innocence, lack the biases and insecurities that often negatively distort our perspectives of ourselves and the world. Starry-eyed seven-year-old me would tell you, likely with a lisp due to her missing two front teeth, "I'm gonna be a princess doctor!" From elementary school until now, I have always been aligned with the purpose of working in healthcare to cure the sickness and ailments of good people experiencing a tricky thing. I recall a photo of me from 1st grade when I dressed up as a doctor for Halloween, and it's clear. I could have been a princess, a ghoul, or a cat like most kids my age, but I chose to dress up as my dream career field. I find that photo nostalgic as if it alluded to or foreshadowed the future I'm currently pursuing in healthcare. Although I cannot remember sassily posing for my picture with my hand propped up on my hip or much of the events of 1st grade, I'm still that same little girl in that photo with the same passion for healing. Another undeniable love that survived my childhood is my love for children, especially babies. As a little girl I had too many baby dolls! I would feed and care for them as if they were real because they were to me. I was a baby pretending to take care of babies; the irony of that! Combine these two things I have cherished deeply over the years, and you get the impact I wish to make on the world. I will become a nurse practitioner working in the labor and delivery as well as neonatal intensive care units (NICU) to promote the health of women who desire to bring a blessing in the form of a baby into this world. Then, I'd want to support the health of these newborns to ensure that they receive a fair chance to grow into generous individuals who also want to spread a loving impact into the world because we all can agree that the world is in dire need of more love and compassion. What made my child-like fantasies materialize into a work-in-progress reality is a combination of life experiences and personal realizations. There wasn't a specific "ah-hah" moment when I knew I wanted to be a nurse. Over time, life has molded me into an individual who would thrive in a career: the personality to connect with people, a heart filled with compassion, and a brain that enjoys science and anatomy. From when my little brother broke his arm and I carried his backpack to class every day or getting honest with myself that I was not cut out to be a surgeon because of my shaky hands! Or the Thanksgiving my cousin got emotional when she shared her gratefulness to have a safe birth in a hospital as a black woman, which ignited my natural curiosity to lead me down a rabbit hole of research to discover the high birth mortality rates in the U.S. especially in woman of color like myself, which further inspired me to create a project on it for school assignment and to specialize in women's/newborn health. It's the volunteer hours in my church's nursery, the challenges and adversities I've overcome, the role models and support systems, the stories of the people I've met, and my faith that have led me to nursing. I could tell you that I chose nursing, but in reality, nursing chose me.

My entire life felt like it was constantly changing around me. Since the tender age of 5, every Thursday and every other weekend, I had to pack my belongings in a bag, go to my dad's house, and then again for July. I attended three elementary schools and two different colleges during my freshman year. I’ve had to uproot my life, relocate, and then uproot again and return many times. What pained me wasn't that I didn't have the typical suburban outline of a two-parent household but that I yearned for a consistent environment to grow up in. It's hard to figure out your identity and purpose when things continually morph around you. However, my upbringing has made me strong, determined, and focused. I've learned how to transform uncertainty and change into resilience and purpose. Amid it all, I was able to hone in on my life’s goal, which is to be a pediatric/NICU nurse. Nursing is my passion; it steadies me when life trips me up. Children are like tiny oak saplings. How can a sapling grow into a strong tree if the amount of water, sunlight, and nutrients it receives constantly changes? Change can only waiver you (or overwhelm a sapling) if you don't have a firm foundation or strong roots to dig into when the winds get rough or the water floods high. Stability can be a person, a principal, or even a place. We must provide steady affection, safety, and love so that kids have a fighting chance to grow into mighty oak trees that can hold their own. Reflecting back, I’ve formed many relationships and memories that made a lasting impact on my character, even if it was a brief season of my life. And I cherish the people who’ve accompanied me along my journey, who made the growing pains bearable and even fond to reminisce. I desire to be that person for children. I want to be the person in their memories whose consistent kindness and warmth seemingly distracts them from their pain, struggles, and worries. I want to share my strength with the children battling health issues who only know change because they're constantly in and out of hospitals, schools, and surgeries. Although sometimes one cannot control health circumstances, as a nurse, I will always be able to provide persistently personable and quality healthcare so that their time in hospitals is more than just treatment, but also valuable connections. When I first started writing this essay, I struggled with the prompt. I realized I'd have to revisit my childhood to connect with this scholarship, so I prayed and pondered. Then, something came over me, and I was inspired to write. As I came down from the bliss from the burst of inspiration, I decided to look up the beloved Kylee Govoni. After reading her touching story, I saw trees planted in light of her. Chills ran over me. It resonated so much with the oak tree analogy I had developed to explain my innate nature to nurture children. This scholarship aligns so profoundly with my values and reasonings for choosing nursing I knew I had to apply. As I write this essay, I set my sights on another major change, perhaps the most significant move I'll ever make. Moving cities and getting an apartment to attend my dream nursing school. Will there be growing pains? Will I be far from home? Will school be challenging? Yes! But I've learned that change can bring beautiful outcomes and incredible growth when you have the proper purpose, people, or principal to guide you through it.