Turning Experience Into Emergency Service My long-term goal is to become a highly capable EMT who can respond to both medical emergencies and behavioral-health crises in my rural Colorado community. I am not beginning this path without experience. I am a former firefighter, a certified peer-support professional, a community crisis responder, a suicide-prevention advocate, and a court liaison working with people who have serious behavioral-health needs. My plan is to build formal emergency medical training on top of that foundation and use both skill sets to serve people who are often overlooked. My first step is completing my current EMT education. My plan is organized around four priorities: mastering the academic material, developing reliable hands-on skills, passing the National Registry examination, and gaining field experience. Each week, I schedule dedicated study time for anatomy, patient assessment, airway management, trauma, medical emergencies, and documentation. Because I learn best through repetition and hands-on practice, I create checklists, practice skill stations, review scenarios aloud, and repeat assessments until the sequence becomes automatic. After completing the course, I will prepare for the National Registry cognitive and psychomotor requirements through structured review, practice examinations, and scenario-based training. My target is to test as soon as I am eligible so the material remains fresh. If I do not pass on my first attempt, my plan does not end. I will identify weak areas from the exam report, complete additional review, seek guidance from instructors, and retest after focused preparation. The financial side of this plan is equally important. My expected education and certification expenses include course costs, textbooks and study materials, examination and licensing fees, CPR and continuing-education requirements, medical supplies for skills practice, transportation, and possible lodging when training or testing is unavailable locally. I would allocate scholarship funds approximately as follows: $400 for certification, testing, and state licensing fees $300 for textbooks, study programs, and practice examinations $250 for skills supplies and required equipment $250 for fuel and travel to class, testing, or clinical opportunities $115 for CPR renewal or continuing education Any remaining expenses will be paid through my employment income and careful monthly budgeting. I work full-time as a court liaison, so my schedule must account for employment, travel, volunteering, and school. I protect study blocks on evenings and weekends and reduce nonessential spending while completing certification. Once licensed, I plan to pursue work or volunteer opportunities with a local EMS agency. Rural communities face long response distances, limited staffing, and fewer behavioral-health resources. My background allows me to bring something additional to an ambulance: experience supporting suicidal individuals, families after traumatic deaths, survivors of domestic violence, people in recovery, and first responders after difficult calls. My next-stage goal is continuing education in trauma care, behavioral-health emergencies, crisis communication, and possibly advanced EMS certification. I will also continue volunteering in community response and coaching with The Phoenix, a sober active community. Joe Gilroy’s motto reflects how I have rebuilt my life: make the plan, do the work, evaluate the result, and keep moving. My goal is clear, my steps are measurable, and my commitment comes from years of already serving people in crisis. This scholarship would not create my plan; it would provide critical resources to help me carry it through.

Bringing the Darkness to Light Mental illness taught me that silence can feel protective while quietly making suffering more dangerous. For much of my life, I believed that if I kept working, helping others, and appearing strong, I could keep my own pain contained. I learned the hard way that pain does not disappear simply because it is hidden. I have lived with trauma, depression, suicidal ideation, addiction, and profound loss. I survived a suicide attempt and endured periods when I could not imagine a future worth reaching. I also lost my father and my brother, experiences that changed my family and showed me how grief can reshape a person long after others expect life to return to normal. For years, I confused silence with strength. That belief was reinforced by environments where vulnerability could be viewed as weakness, particularly among men and first responders. We are often taught to remain calm, complete the task, and move on to the next emergency. Suppressing what I felt did not make me stronger. It made me more isolated and made it harder for the people who loved me to understand what I needed. Recovery required me to challenge nearly everything I believed about strength. I had to accept help, take responsibility for harm caused during addiction, rebuild relationships, and learn healthier ways to live with trauma. Today, I have more than eight years in recovery. That milestone represents thousands of choices to keep going, tell the truth, ask for help, and try again. My journey changed my relationships by teaching me that honesty is an act of trust. I learned to let the people closest to me see more than the capable and composed version of myself. I also learned that mental illness affects entire families. Loved ones may carry fear, confusion, guilt, resentment, and the exhausting need to watch for warning signs. Healing required more than improving my own condition. It required listening to how my struggles affected others, rebuilding trust, communicating clearly, and allowing people to support me without pushing them away. These experiences also transformed my beliefs about service. I no longer believe helping someone means having perfect words or being able to remove their pain. Often, the most meaningful thing we can do is remain present, listen without judgment, take suffering seriously, and help someone reach the next safe moment. As a former firefighter and community response advocate, I have supported people experiencing suicidal ideation, families after suicide deaths, survivors of domestic violence and assault, and first responders following traumatic calls. I have sat with families whose lives changed without warning and helped them understand what would happen next. I have supported responders after scenes involving suicide, violence, and death, recognizing that those who care for everyone else also need a place to speak honestly. I continue volunteering with the advocacy agency where I once worked because crises do not follow business hours, and my commitment to my community did not end when my job title changed. I have also participated in local suicide-prevention efforts, peer recovery, crisis intervention, and behavioral-health advocacy. These experiences reinforced my belief that destigmatization must be practical, not merely symbolic. It means speaking openly about suicidal thoughts before someone reaches a breaking point. It means treating addiction and mental illness as health concerns rather than moral failures. It means making room for first responders, men, survivors, and families to admit they are struggling without fear of judgment. As a volunteer CrossFit coach with The Phoenix, a sober active community, I help create a place where people in recovery can rebuild confidence, connection, and belonging. Fitness is the doorway, but community is the real work. People learn they can be challenged without being shamed, supported without being pitied, and accepted without hiding their past. Watching someone discover strength in recovery has shown me that healing is not only about surviving. It is also about building a life that feels worth protecting. In my current work as a court liaison, I help people with serious mental health and behavioral-health needs navigate a legal system that can easily reduce them to diagnoses, allegations, or case numbers. I work to ensure that courts, attorneys, treatment providers, jails, and families understand the person behind the paperwork. Accountability and compassion are not opposites. People can be held responsible while still being treated with dignity and connected to meaningful care. I am also pursuing EMT certification so I can serve my small rural Colorado community with medical skill and trauma-informed compassion. Rural communities often face limited resources, long travel distances, and persistent stigma. An EMT may be one of the first people to recognize that an overdose, panic attack, physical complaint, or behavioral emergency is connected to deeper emotional suffering. I want to be the responder who sees that connection and treats emotional pain with the same seriousness as physical injury. Destigmatization begins when people are willing to bring hidden suffering into the light: I struggled. I needed help. I survived. My past is no longer something I must conceal. It shaped my belief that vulnerability can be courageous, changed my relationships by teaching me honesty, and gave direction to my education and career. I cannot undo the moments when I nearly gave up, but I can use them responsibly. My goal is to help build communities where asking for help is viewed as strength—and where fewer people are left to suffer in silence.

What Survival Asked of Me Mental illness has not been an abstract subject in my life. It has shaped my relationships, my career, my education, and the person I have fought to become. I have lived with trauma, depression, suicidal ideation, addiction, and the lasting effects of profound loss. I lost both my father and my brother, and those deaths changed the emotional foundation of my family. Grief did not remain confined to funerals or anniversaries. It followed us into ordinary days, affecting how we communicated, how we handled stress, and how safe the future felt. My own mental health struggles also affected the people closest to me. I experienced periods when I did not believe my life would improve and survived a suicide attempt. During those years, my family carried fear, confusion, and helplessness alongside me. Mental illness may occur within one person, but its effects spread outward. The people who love you watch for warning signs, wonder what they missed, and live with the fear that one bad night could become permanent. Recovery was neither quick nor simple. I had to confront addiction, accept help, rebuild damaged relationships, and learn healthier ways to live with trauma. Today, I have more than eight years in recovery. That achievement represents thousands of individual decisions to continue moving forward, including on days when progress felt invisible. My experiences ultimately shaped my commitment to serving others. I became a firefighter and community response advocate, responding to deaths, domestic violence, assaults, suicides, and mental health emergencies. I have supported people experiencing suicidal ideation, helped families after suicide deaths, and provided emotional support to first responders following traumatic calls. I also continue volunteering with the advocacy organization where I previously worked because my responsibility to my community did not end when my employment there changed. I have participated in local suicide-prevention efforts, peer recovery work, crisis intervention, and behavioral health advocacy. I also volunteer as a CrossFit coach with my local chapter of The Phoenix, a sober active community program. Through fitness and connection, we help people in recovery rebuild confidence, find belonging, and discover that a sober life can still contain purpose, strength, and joy. Today, I work as a court liaison, helping people with serious mental health and behavioral health needs navigate the legal system. Many of the people I serve are overwhelmed by illness, trauma, substance use, homelessness, or systems they do not understand. I help connect courts, attorneys, treatment providers, jails, and families so that people are treated as human beings rather than reduced to diagnoses or case numbers. I am also pursuing EMT certification so I can continue serving my small rural Colorado community. Rural communities often face limited resources, long response times, and persistent stigma surrounding mental illness. I want to become an EMT who understands that emotional suffering can be every bit as urgent as physical injury. Continuing my education while working and volunteering requires sacrifice, and financial support would ease that burden. More importantly, it would help me transform what mental illness has taken from my family into something that can protect and strengthen other families. My ambition is not simply to overcome my past. It is to use it responsibly, serving people who may still be searching for a reason to believe their lives can change.

Choosing to Stay—and Helping Others Do the Same Suicide has affected my life from both sides of the crisis: as someone who has struggled to stay alive and as someone who has stood beside others when they were unsure they could. I have lived through depression, trauma, addiction, profound loss, suicidal ideation, and a suicide attempt. There were times when pain narrowed my world until I could not imagine a future beyond it. Recovery did not happen in one dramatic moment. It happened through difficult choices made repeatedly: accepting help, rebuilding relationships, finding purpose, and learning that surviving is not the same as fully living. Today, I have more than eight years in recovery, and the life I once believed was impossible has become a life centered on service. My experiences changed the way I respond to people in crisis. I understand that suicidal ideation is not always loud or visible. It can hide behind humor, anger, isolation, substance use, or the simple statement that someone is “fine.” In my advocacy and crisis-response work, I have supported people experiencing suicidal thoughts by listening without judgment, helping them identify immediate safety steps, and connecting them with professional and community resources. I do not approach them as problems to solve. I approach them as human beings who deserve to be taken seriously and reminded that their pain can change. I have also supported families after a loved one died by suicide. Those moments taught me that suicide does not end one person’s pain; it transfers a devastating portion of it to the people left behind. I have sat with families in shock, helped them understand what would happen next, connected them with support, and remained present when there were no words capable of making the situation better. My service has extended to first responders as well. As a former firefighter and community response advocate, I have provided support after traumatic calls involving death, violence, and suicide. First responders are often expected to absorb what they witness, finish the report, and move on to the next call. I have tried to create space for them to speak honestly, process difficult experiences, and recognize that needing support is not weakness. Caring for those who care for everyone else is an essential part of protecting a community. I have also participated in local suicide-prevention efforts, peer recovery, crisis intervention, and behavioral-health advocacy. Today, I work as a court liaison helping people with serious mental health needs navigate a complex legal system. I continue volunteering in community response because my responsibility to people in crisis did not end when my job title changed. I am now becoming an EMT in a small rural Colorado community, where limited resources, long distances, and stigma can make mental-health emergencies especially dangerous. I want to be a responder who recognizes that a patient’s emotional crisis is as real as any physical injury. My goal is to bring medical skill, lived experience, and compassion to people who may believe no one sees them. Elijah’s story is a painful reminder that every person deserves to feel known, valued, and supported. I cannot change the moments when I nearly gave up, but I can use them. My perseverance is not only that I survived. It is that I chose to turn survival into service—and to help others believe that staying is still possible.

Showing Up When It Matters Most Service is not something I discovered in a classroom. I learned it in moments when someone’s world had just fallen apart and they needed another person willing to stay. My commitment to community service grew from my own experiences with loss, addiction, trauma, and mental health struggles. I have lost both my father and my brother, survived periods of suicidal thinking, and rebuilt my life through long-term recovery. Those experiences taught me how quickly people can feel isolated and how much difference one compassionate, steady presence can make. Rather than allowing hardship to define the limits of my life, I chose to use what I survived to understand and support others. As a former firefighter and community response advocate, I responded to deaths, assaults, domestic violence incidents, suicides, and other crises. My role often began after the immediate danger had passed, when survivors and families were left trying to process what had happened. I sat with grieving relatives, helped victims of violence identify safe options, connected people with resources, and supported individuals experiencing suicidal ideation. In those moments, service was not about having perfect words. It was about listening without judgment, remaining calm, and helping someone take the next safe step. Although I no longer work full-time for the advocacy agency where I performed this work, I continue volunteering with its community response program. I still respond when members of my community experience violence, traumatic loss, or crisis because my commitment to them did not end when my job title changed. Continuing this work as a volunteer reflects what service means to me: showing up because people matter, not because I am being paid to do so. I have also worked in peer recovery, suicide prevention, crisis intervention, and jail-based behavioral health support. Because I have lived through addiction and recovery myself, I understand the shame and hopelessness that can prevent people from asking for help. I use that experience to remind others that recovery is possible and that their worst moment does not have to define the rest of their life. I also volunteer as a CrossFit coach for my local chapter of The Phoenix, a sober active community that uses fitness and connection to support people in recovery. Coaching is about far more than teaching movements or writing workouts. It means creating a space where people can rebuild confidence, develop healthy relationships, and experience belonging without drugs or alcohol. Every class is an opportunity to show someone that recovery can include strength, purpose, friendship, and joy. Today, I work as a court liaison, helping individuals with serious behavioral health needs navigate an intimidating and complicated legal system. I coordinate with courts, attorneys, treatment providers, jails, and families so people do not disappear between systems. I am also pursuing EMT education to expand the ways I can serve during physical, emotional, and behavioral health emergencies. Strong communities are not built through one dramatic act. They are built by people who repeatedly choose to show up, listen, advocate, and act. My service has been shaped by loss, but it is driven by purpose. I will continue using my education, professional experience, and lived experience to lift up my neighbors and ensure fewer people face crisis or recovery alone.

Turning Pain Into Service I did not decide to become a first responder because I believed I could save everyone. I chose this path because I know what it feels like when a life changes in an instant, and I know how much it matters when someone is willing to step into that moment and stay. Loss has shaped much of who I am. My family has experienced deaths that left permanent marks on us, including the loss of my father and my brother. I have lived through grief that affected every part of my life. I have also faced trauma, depression, suicidal thoughts, and addiction. Today, I am more than eight years into recovery. Those experiences did not make me fearless. They made me more attentive to suffering that other people may not see. I understand how easily someone can feel alone and how powerful it can be when another person responds with dignity instead of judgment. My family and the people I love have been central to my recovery. They taught me that strength is not simply enduring hardship alone. Strength is accepting support, rebuilding after loss, and using what you have survived to help someone else. My partner, Danielle, has been a source of stability as I continue my education and work toward emergency medical services. For years, I have served people during some of the worst moments of their lives. As a former firefighter and community response advocate, I responded to deaths, assaults, domestic violence incidents, and mental health crises. I have supported survivors of abuse, grieving families, and people struggling with suicidal ideation. My advocacy work has included suicide prevention, crisis intervention, peer recovery, de-escalation, and community response. Today, I also work as a court liaison, helping people with serious behavioral health needs navigate an overwhelming system. These roles taught me that helping is not always dramatic. Sometimes it means controlling a dangerous scene or providing emergency care. Other times it means sitting beside someone who has lost a loved one, listening to a survivor who is afraid to go home, or reminding a suicidal person that the next hour is survivable. The common requirement is presence: staying calm, paying attention, and refusing to treat a human being like a problem to be managed. I am now pursuing EMT certification because I want to combine my crisis-response experience with stronger medical knowledge and practical lifesaving skills. I want to become the responder who recognizes both the physical emergency and the person inside it. My past has given me empathy, but empathy alone is not enough. I am committed to gaining the training, judgment, and discipline required to serve safely and competently. I understand that this scholarship was created for students in Mississippi, while I live and study in Colorado. I do not dismiss that requirement. I am applying because the calling this scholarship honors does not stop at a state line. Bridgette Rochelle Horn’s legacy of courage, service, and devotion to community reflects the life I am working to build. Whether someone is in Mississippi or Colorado, grief still hurts, trauma still isolates, and a compassionate responder can still change a life. I respectfully ask to be considered because of the service I have given and my responsibility to continue it. I cannot change the losses that brought me to this path, but I can decide what I do with them. I have chosen to turn pain into service, experience into advocacy, and survival into a promise to show up for others when they need someone most.

Loss has been a defining part of my life. I lost my father in 2001, my mother in 2009, and my brother suddenly in 2018. Each loss came at a different stage of my life, but all of them shaped how I see the world, how I connect with people, and the work I have chosen to pursue. If I could start a business with my brother, it would not be a traditional business focused on profit—it would be a community-based crisis response and recovery support organization. It would combine mental health support, peer recovery, and real-time crisis intervention, especially in rural communities like mine in Craig, Colorado. The reason is simple: I have seen firsthand how people fall through the cracks. After losing my family members, especially my brother, I came to understand how isolating grief can be. There is no clear roadmap, no immediate support system that meets people in the moment when everything changes. That gap is even more evident in the work I do today. As a Community Response Advocate and Peer Recovery Coach, I have responded to suicide scenes, mental health crises, and situations where families are left trying to process the unthinkable in real time. If my brother and I could build something together, it would be designed to meet people in those exact moments. It would focus on immediate, human-centered response—trained individuals who can show up alongside emergency services to provide emotional support, guidance, and connection to resources. It would also include ongoing recovery support through peer coaching and community-based programs, helping people rebuild after crisis rather than leaving them to navigate it alone. This vision is not hypothetical for me—it directly connects to the path I am already on. I am pursuing EMT training with the goal of becoming a co-responder, integrating medical care with behavioral health support. I want to help build a system that responds to people with both skill and compassion, especially in underserved rural areas. Losing my parents and my brother taught me that life can change in an instant. It also taught me that what matters most is how we show up for each other in those moments. If I could build something with my brother, it would be something that ensures no one has to face those moments alone.

Recovery, to me, is not a finish line—it is a daily decision. It is choosing consistency, honesty, and accountability, even when it would be easier not to. I am in long-term recovery from opiate addiction, with nine years of sobriety. That journey has shaped how I approach my life and my work. It taught me how to build structure, find purpose, and replace short-term escape with something sustainable. Through my work as a Peer Recovery Coach and Community Response Advocate, I have supported individuals in crisis, including mental health emergencies, suicide scenes, and domestic violence situations. I have seen how difficult it is for people to take the first step, and how easily they fall through the cracks when support is not consistent. Recovery is not just about removing substances—it is about building connection. As a volunteer CrossFit coach with The Phoenix Sober Community, I help individuals in recovery develop accountability, confidence, and community. Showing up consistently, for myself and others, is at the core of what recovery means. I am pursuing EMT training to expand my ability to support people in crisis, especially in my rural community of Craig, Colorado. My goal is to become a co-responder, integrating medical and behavioral health support. Recovery is not just about staying sober—it is about building a life that makes staying sober worth it. And it is something I choose every day.

For me, leadership has never been about a title—it has been about showing up consistently for people who need support, especially when there is no clear system in place to help them. My service work has largely been through my role as a Community Response Advocate with Open Heart Advocates/ACTSS, where I responded to domestic violence incidents, deaths, assaults, and mental health crises, including suicide scenes. In those moments, leadership meant stepping into uncertainty, helping stabilize chaotic environments, and providing non-clinical emotional support to individuals and families during some of the most difficult times of their lives. It also meant assisting with logistics and ensuring people were connected to the resources they needed once the immediate crisis passed. Beyond crisis response, I have supported an emotional support line, contributed to suicide prevention efforts, and worked directly with victims of crime and individuals and families experiencing homelessness. I have also volunteered as a CrossFit coach with The Phoenix Sober Community, helping individuals in recovery build strength, accountability, and connection through fitness. In that role, leadership looks different—it is about consistency, encouragement, and helping people rebuild confidence and community in a healthy environment. I have also served as a volunteer firefighter, where I learned the importance of teamwork, accountability, and disciplined response in high-stress situations. Combined with my current role as a Court Liaison and certified Peer Recovery Coach, my work has focused on bridging gaps between systems and helping individuals navigate challenges related to mental health, substance use, and the justice system. What connects all of this is a commitment to service that goes beyond obligation. This work is not required—it is something I choose because I have seen the impact it makes when someone shows up with empathy, reliability, and the ability to act. Leadership through service matters because systems alone are not enough. People need connection, trust, and guidance—especially in moments of crisis or recovery. I have seen how one person showing up consistently can change the direction of someone’s life. My goal moving forward is to expand that impact. I am pursuing EMT training to add medical capability to the service work I already do, with the goal of becoming a co-responder in my rural community of Craig, Colorado. There is currently no co-responder program in my area, and I want to help build one that integrates emergency response with behavioral health support. Paying it forward, to me, means using my experience to create better outcomes not just for individuals, but for the community as a whole. Service has shaped who I am, and leadership is how I choose to apply it.

I have spent a lot of my life surrounded by loss, trauma, and instability—both personally and professionally. Over time, that created a pattern I had to confront: I was always the one showing up for others, but not always taking the time to process or address the weight of what I was carrying myself. That pattern, combined with experiences of loss, including deaths by suicide and exposure to repeated trauma in my work, forced me to make a choice—either let it harden me or use it to become someone who could help others in a meaningful way. I chose the second. As a Community Response Advocate with Open Heart Advocates/ACTSS, I stepped directly into crisis situations—domestic violence incidents, deaths, assaults, and mental health emergencies, including suicide scenes. I provided non-clinical emotional support, helped stabilize chaotic environments, and supported families and individuals through some of the most difficult moments of their lives. I also worked on an emotional support line, contributed to suicide prevention efforts, and supported victims of crime and unhoused individuals. These experiences didn’t just expose me to struggle—they gave me a deep understanding of how people fall through the cracks. At the same time, I had to learn how to navigate my own. Carrying the weight of repeated trauma, managing mental health, and maintaining stability while continuing to show up for others has been an ongoing challenge. It required me to build discipline, self-awareness, and resilience in ways I didn’t fully understand at the beginning. Rising above that struggle hasn’t been a single moment—it’s been a continuous process of choosing growth, accountability, and purpose. That process is what drives my ambition today. I currently work as a Court Liaison in Northwest Colorado and am a certified Peer Recovery Coach and Colorado Peer and Family Specialist, helping individuals navigate the justice system, mental health challenges, and recovery. But I’ve seen firsthand that support alone is not always enough when someone is in immediate crisis—especially in rural communities like mine in Craig, Colorado, where resources are limited and response options are often inadequate. That is why I am pursuing EMT training. My goal is to become a co-responder—someone who can respond alongside emergency services to provide both medical and behavioral health support in real time. There is currently no co-responder program in my community. I want to help change that by building a model that brings more effective, compassionate care to people in crisis. The struggles I have faced have given me clarity. I understand what it means to be in the middle of chaos, to feel unsupported, and to fight to move forward anyway. That perspective is not something I see as a disadvantage—it is the foundation of the work I am committed to doing. This scholarship represents more than financial support. It is an opportunity to continue rising above my own challenges while building something that creates better outcomes for others. My goal is not just to succeed personally, but to ensure that the systems around me evolve to better serve the people who need them most.

I have built my life around showing up in moments most people avoid. As a Community Response Advocate with Open Heart Advocates/ACTSS, I responded to domestic violence incidents, deaths, assaults, and mental health crises, including suicide scenes. In those moments, I provided non-clinical emotional support, helped stabilize chaotic environments, and guided people toward their next step when everything felt uncertain. I have worked with victims of crime, supported unhoused individuals and families, and contributed to suicide prevention efforts in my community. That work didn’t just show me where the system works—it showed me exactly where it fails. My ambition is to close those gaps. In rural communities like Craig, Colorado, where I live, crisis response options are limited. Law enforcement is often the only available response, even for mental health emergencies. That is not because it is the best solution, but because there are no alternatives built into the system. I have seen firsthand how that impacts outcomes for individuals in crisis, and I am not willing to accept that as the standard. I am pursuing EMT training to expand my role in these moments, adding medical capability to the crisis response and peer support work I already do. My goal is not just to participate in the system, but to help reshape it. I intend to become a co-responder—someone who can respond alongside emergency services to provide both medical and behavioral health support in real time. There is currently no co-responder program in my community. That absence is exactly what drives my ambition. I want to help build and implement a model that brings more effective, compassionate, and appropriate care to people in crisis. With my background as a Community Response Advocate, my work as a Court Liaison and Peer Recovery Coach, and my experience as a volunteer firefighter, I bring a perspective that bridges multiple systems. I understand how people fall through the cracks—and I am committed to changing that. For me, making a positive impact is not abstract. It is direct, immediate, and measurable. It is reducing harm in the moment, improving outcomes over time, and building systems that better serve the people who rely on them. My ambition is not just to respond to crises, but to create a better way to respond. This scholarship would support my ability to complete EMT training and continue building toward that goal. More importantly, it would help me take a step toward creating meaningful, lasting change in a community that needs it.