This year, I was invited to serve as a lamp escort at Westminster Abbey for the Florence Nightingale Commemoration Service — I am not quite sure I have the right words for it.
It isn’t just “honour.”
It is something quieter, and deeper.
I feel profoundly grateful — for the opportunity nursing has given me to see more clearly. To see injustice. To see gaps in care. To see where people are not reached, not heard, not served as they should be.
Nursing has given me a focus.
It has given me purpose.
And, unexpectedly, it has given me courage.
Not loud courage.
Not performative courage.
But the kind that allows you to stand, quietly, and hold your post.
I am not the loudest voice in the room.
And I have learned that it is not measured by volume.
You can be steady.
You can be consistent.
You can be clear.
And sometimes, that is what changes things.
The Nursing has helped me understand this more fully. It has given me space to think, to reflect, and to make decisions with intention. It has strengthened my resolve to act — not perfectly, but purposefully.
To step forward.
To not wait to be asked.
To do what needs to be done.
Along the way, I have been supported by people who have helped me think better, listen more carefully, and stay grounded in what matters. A quiet board of support — colleagues, mentors, and coaches — who challenge and steady me when the work feels complex.
Because it is complex.
There are always small stones in the road.
The frustrations.
The systems that don’t quite work.
The moments that distract and delay.
But I have learned not to stop there.
To lift my head.
To refocus.
To keep the light where it matters.
Like the blackbird, still singing.
Not because the path is clear, but because the voice matters.
I have come to understand that leadership is not about standing above others, but alongside them — steady, calm, and willing to make difficult decisions when they are needed.
Nursing, at its best, is exactly this.
It is clarity.
It is compassion.
It is courage, grounded in evidence and expressed through action.
Change does not come from standing back. It comes from stepping forward — with purpose, with data, and with relentless attention to what matters.
I am proud to be a nurse.
Not for recognition, but for what it allows me to do.
To advocate.
To challenge.
To build.
To improve.
To make things better, even when it is uncomfortable.
And so I will keep going.
Holding my post.
Stepping forward.
Refusing to leave impact to chance.

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