As I reflect on my life, I lived through an actual tsunami. It was 1986, and my husband, who was in the Navy, had left the previous day for a six-month deployment to the Philippines. There had been an earthquake in the Aleutian Islands, which typically generates a tsunami headed toward the Hawaiian Islands. I was on the island of Oahu, where we lived. The sirens went off, and I was told that I needed to evacuate to higher ground. I had very little gas in my car, so my neighbor poured gas from his lawn mower supply into my car. The tsunami did hit Oahu, but it was measured at just a centimeter. Looking back, I see God’s grace.

Many of life’s moments can feel like a tidal wave hitting you. I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in January of 2025 during my two-year follow-up visit with my breast cancer surgeon. When he asked me how I was doing, I told him I was OK. He could tell my response wasn’t in my usual happy, upbeat voice, but I told him I was there for a follow-up and did not want to bother him. He pressed me to tell him what was wrong, so I told him I had a pain in my abdomen. We both thought it was probably my gall bladder, but after an ultrasound and a CT scan, it was determined to be ovarian cancer. Looking back at my surgeon’s persistence, I see God’s grace.

I had a grapefruit-sized tumor on one ovary and a smaller tumor on the other. I also had over a liter of fluid in my abdomen. I was diagnosed with stage 3C ovarian cancer on a Friday and had an appointment with a gynecologist/oncologist the following Tuesday. Looking back at how quickly I was able to be seen, I see God’s grace.

As all of this was unfolding, my husband, who had recently been hospitalized due to osteomyelitis, a bone infection, in the two vertebrae closest to his brain, was receiving his own specialized treatment, keeping him from his job as a commercial pilot. His recovery allowed him to accompany me not only the day of my surgery, but throughout my chemotherapy and recovery. Looking at the perfect timing, I see God’s grace.

In the days after my diagnosis, God’s gift of my family and friends provided much support. They brought meals, had Masses said for me, sent gifts to cheer me, visited me, and prayed for me. Looking back at the wonderful people surrounding me, I see God’s grace.

When I was diagnosed, I was reading a book gifted to me by a friend: Meditations on the Sacred Heart by Jesuit Father Joseph McDonnell. As I read, a quote from Thomas à Kempis touched my heart very deeply: “In the cross is salvation; in the cross is life; in the cross is protection from thine enemies; in the cross is infusion of heavenly sweetness; in the cross is strength of mind; in the cross is joy of spirit. . . There is no health of soul or hope of eternal life but in the cross.” After the quote, Father McDonnell added, “What reasons I have for rejoicing if God has laid the cross on me!” That line became the theme of my ovarian cancer journey. I wrote it on my stationery and on a message board in my kitchen. Every day, I remind myself of it. Looking back at the prompting of my friend to gift me that book, I see God’s grace.

God laid the cross on me, and I am to rejoice in that. I do rejoice knowing that God the Father and His Son love me so much that they want me to grow ever closer to them. According to Father McDonnell, “The cross must be the badge and mark of all true lovers of the Sacred Heart. … In the open wound of the Sacred Heart, we have an everlasting pledge of God’s unbounded love for us, a refuge in sorrow, a means of atoning for sin, a fountain of grace.” I never yearned for this cross, but I view it as a true gift. My hope is that the manner in which I carry this cross can be used as a prayer, given right back to Our Lord.

As I write this, I am not in remission, but I know that, just like in 1986, God’s grace is in this tsunami. I will strive to grow closer to Him, remembering what reasons I have for rejoicing if God has laid the cross on me.