My mom gathered us up into a circle in our living room. We each took turns reading passages from the Bible, we memorized scripture, and sang worship songs and hymns Von Trap style. She and my sister, Esther produced a performance at our local library’s auditorium. We sang and danced to a Larry Norman album.

Since I can remember, she got all ten of us plus an adopted daughter loaded into our fifteen passenger van for church with a few neighborhood kids tagging along. We read our Bibles for an hour daily. We weren’t allowed to listen to secular music, and were often told we were meant for Kingdom behavior not worldly behavior. We were God’s children and Caruso’s. That meant everything.

When I was diagnosed, Steve Wynn flew mom and I to Los Angeles in his little Cessna plane to go to UCLA because local doctors didn’t know what was wrong with me. The night before the trip, she gifted to me the most beautiful long satin nightgown with a matching robe. She also gave me blue and white dangling earrings. I always wanted dangling earrings!

It was also around this time that she asked me if I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart. I still remember the overpowering love I felt. I felt Him move into my heart and release joy over me. It was glorious. I am reminded of this abundance of Love every time we worship corporately as a church at Encounter Church in Las Vegas, NV. That intimacy and sureness. That tangible, thick presence of His furious love for me. For us.

My mom demonstrated that love when she let me help her cook healthy meals. She would be patient as I learned, encouraging me along the way even if it did take twice as long for a six year old to follow the recipe. As the years went by, I got better and better at cooking. We’d make fresh bread, homemade whipped cream for the holiday pies, and healthy meals for my dad and siblings. I was her mini me and I loved it!

She has the most beautiful singing voice. She can be heard singing worship or in her prayer language daily. Always standing under the waterfall of the Holy Spirit.

She’s really good at basketball! She hustles down the court and makes crazy shots sometimes. She’ll warm you up with a game of Horse, first!

She reads, sings in, and understands Hebrew. She discovered she’s Jewish after my grandmother passed away. The songs and prayers she grew up on she later learned was divided between her Jewish heritage and Catholic upbringing. She went to Israel for a month and had adventures touring Jesus’ territory.

She told me tales of New York City that settled into my heart at a young age. She told me of ballets and Broadway shows. She told me of Shakespeare and poetry and plays that were happening. I romanticized about going to New York my whole life. My dream came true when my sister, Esther called from my grandma’s apartment and said,

“Tisa? I’m bored! Move to New York with me!” I had just ended it with my fiancé and lost my job. Perfect. Fresh start. I packed up a few paintings and a few outfits and I was on my way! I mention the paintings because a few weeks after I moved in, my grandma hung those paintings in her living room. I felt like I was welcome and that I was home.

I enrolled at Pace University, a five minute walk from grandma’s apartment. My uncle Danny went there, so I wrote a nice letter saying how I wanted to keep the family tradition alive. I got in. At first, I thought they made a mistake because I partied in high school. I paid attention in class but never did homework and took the tests without studying. I was too worried about fitting in during high school, and hadn’t convinced myself I was worthy. Now I was rolling with some serious students and I had to step up my game. So I buckled down and even swallowed my pride and asked for help. Mom. She helped me outline my first few papers to get the hang of it. I was accepted into the Honors Program and made the Dean’s list a few times. I worked harder than ever before. She became a high school English teacher after raising ten kids and going for her bachelor’s and master’s degree back to back in her forties. I wanted to be her when I grew up!

I volunteered to write on my school paper and got the front page for my first article. My mom encouraged my writing all along. Whenever I’d tell her a mundane story about my life she’d perk up and say, “That should go in one of your books!” Always positive.

After my diagnosis, she forbade me from reading any of the literature the doctors sent home with us. She said it’s up to God to heal me, and she didn’t want any negativity in my head. She instructed me and my siblings to be careful around me, and not to rough house with me anymore. I doubt they missed it, as they had each other to torture! I did not miss being on the bottom of the pile getting tickled to death! I’m extremely ticklish and they knew it. Relief! My whole life, my mom has believed for my healing. She tells everyone we meet that God heals and I will be healed one day. At my lowest points, she’s always picked me up and encouraged me. She taught me to always see the positive in a situation. To see God working even through the hard parts. There is always something to be grateful for.

She welcomed homeless people into our home and fed and lived them. She’s always feeding and clothing the homeless. She has a heart for the broken.

I watch her now, pulling endless weeds in our backyard, organizing all the relics of my sibling’s childhood to one day be collected or to just sit, enshrined in the museum of our childhood home. She sings in two choirs and prays weekly with friends at a retirement home. She drives me everywhere and cares for my dogs by cooking them healthy, homemade food. We read the Bible out loud together and take communion almost daily. We sing a lot, and host a weekly book club that’s really a Bible Study. My mom’s faith, her tenderness for her grandkids, and her sense of humor are just a few of the reasons I love her so much. I felt it in my bones when we went from mother/daughter roles to friends. Best friends. I love you with my whole heart, mom!

Love,

Tisa