Faith Takes Root
Faith has always been part of my story, but it wasn’t until my cancer diagnosis that faith became a tangible and transformative force.
I grew up in La Habra Heights, California, where family life revolved around the church. We attended Our Lady of Guadalupe most Sundays, and priests were frequent dinner guests. My mother modeled a steady faith that grounded our family. My father, rooted in Latino traditions, expected hard work and obedience. My brother and I spent countless afternoons tending to our animals and the avocado grove on our property.
I lived up to my parents’ high expectations, excelling in school and sports. Yet as I pursued independence through high school and later veterinary school, I began to drift from my faith. The late-night jam sessions with my punk rock band and the party scene pulled me away from the disciplined faith of my childhood.
Although I never stopped believing in Jesus, my relationship with Him became more perfunctory than real. I was focused on worldly success — and by the world’s standards, I had achieved it. But despite my wealth and professional respect, something was missing.
It wasn’t until my father’s declining health and his eventual passing in 2004 that I began to rediscover the foundation of faith planted in me as a child. Sitting beside him in his final days, I felt the undeniable presence of God. It was a reminder that our lives are part of a greater story and that even in loss, He is near.
Looking back now, I realize those early seeds of faith and that season of grief were preparing me for the greatest battle of my life — one that would bring me to my knees and ultimately, back to God.
“Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.”
— Proverbs 22:6
