“We’re originally from La Belle, Florida, and moved when Katrina hit. My dad was a contract worker, and we ended up in Kansas picking blueberries. When the season was over, his boss promised him another job in Alabama. But when we got there, there was nothing. No job. They lied to my dad.

My mom didn’t want to go back because our home had been destroyed. She said, ‘If God brought us here, we’re meant to be here.’

For a couple of months, we jumped from motel to motel. I remember the roaches and rats.

One day, my dad asked a Hispanic man if he knew where he could find work. My dad didn’t speak English then. The man told him to show up Monday. I remember us driving to Citronelle and waiting. He got the job. My dad has been there since 2007.

Growing up in Citronelle, it was a small town. I wanted to grow and knew there was more for me out there.

I was working at AutoZone when a coworker also in the Navy told me about boats and everything they did. It was put on my heart, and I joined the military in 2019. I was in boot camp in the middle of COVID. Everything was normal when I entered boot camp, then we started getting letters about everything going crazy in the world. We didn’t have phones and couldn’t call home. And all of these people were screaming in my face, but I realized it was for my own good to help toughen me up to serve and protect the United States. 

I went to Mayport, Florida, and boarded the USS Lassen, a destroyer. My first two years were out to sea, and I loved it. I was a retail specialist. I started out washing laundry, and in the end, I was ordering inventory for the ship store, laundry, and barber shop.

I noticed what felt like a bruise or knot on my left knee. I thought it was nothing. But the ball got bigger. Going upstairs, lifting things, and bending my knee hurt. Even lying in my rack on the ship, I could feel it.

Medical sent me to physical therapy, but the man there told me he couldn’t touch it because something was inside. Another doctor ran tests, including MRIs and CT scans. Then I went back out to sea for almost a month.

When I returned, I had missed calls from the doctor. She sat me down and told me I had sarcoma cancer.

I had just lost my grandpa to colon cancer. I was still grieving, and now I had cancer, too. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t.

Driving home, I wondered whether I should tell my mom. Her dad had just died. I didn’t want to put that on her. But I called. The second she answered, “Hola, hija,” I burst out crying. I cried so hard I couldn’t see the road. When I told her, she cried, too. She kept telling me, “It’s gonna be okay. You’re young. You’re gonna fight.”

I remember praying that I didn’t want to go through what my grandpa had gone through. I told my mom I wasn’t going to take anything. If it was my time, it was my time.

Eventually, my referral to MD Anderson in Jacksonville was approved. Around my fourth appointment, the doctor came out with my results and told me, “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I don’t see the cancer.”

He said I had an AVM, a tumor involving blood vessels, but it wasn’t cancerous.

Then he said, “I don’t know if you believe in miracles, but I do.”

I still had two procedures to block the vein feeding the tumor and freeze it. The tumor is still in my knee. They can’t remove it because of the risk of bleeding. I don’t think about it like I used to. It’s part of me now.

When my active-duty contract ended, I wanted to be near my family and got out. But the military was the best decision I made. When I was out on that boat, those people were all I had. We became brothers and sisters, and I loved our diversity. We’re still close.

I’m the first in my family to graduate high school and the first to serve in the military. I’ll be the first to graduate with a college degree. I’m also my dad’s first child to become a homeowner.

I want my little brother, nieces, and nephews to be able to say, ‘My sister/Aunt Sol did this. I can do it, too.’

My mom was 16 when she had me. She met my dad picking oranges in Florida. They married in Mexico and came back to pick oranges together. My grandpa was brave enough to cross the border and bring his children here. Because of him, I got to serve this country and live this life.

Grandpa was a happy, positive person–I saw him as a garden. The flowers in my tattoo are for him. The sunflower is me. He called me ‘Girasol,’ which means sunflower and is close to my name.

I gave my life to Christ in March. My friend Mia had invited me to church more than once. I finally went and felt the Holy Spirit come over me. I felt like I belonged and at peace. The pastor asked if I wanted to give my life to Jesus, and I went to the altar. Women laid their hands on me and prayed, and I couldn’t stop crying. I asked God to forgive, teach, and guide me. I didn’t want to live like the world anymore.

Recently, my pastor asked if I spoke fluent Spanish and if I’d be willing to travel to other countries to translate and spread the gospel. I’d been praying for God to show me what to do. That was my answer.

I’ve always translated for families in my community to help them. If I can translate a Bible verse from English to Spanish and somebody gets saved, that’s it. That’s the dream.”

Marisol