Yesterday morning, my lungs were burning as they do everyday. And I would get a thick peanut butter like feeling. The nebulizer would help me cough it up and clear my lungs. Well my nebulizer stopped working. We tried all the plugs and even took it to the kitchen to test it. Nothing. So then it was time for my Prayer Team Training Zoom call. Pastor Karen asked how I was doing. At first I was about to give my pat answer, “I’m okay, thanks!” But I stopped myself and shared that my lungs were burning and my nebulizer broke. She immediately started praying for me, instructing me to breathe in the Holy Spirit. I did, and by the second breath, the burning stopped. Other members then prayed, and all the peanut butter got coughed up! That usually doesn’t happen without the albuterol. So I was feeling better, and as the day passed, my lungs felt better than ever. I didn’t once feel like I needed the nebulizer. I use it three to four times a day. I was diagnosed with COPD a few years ago. It’s from a combination of smoking for a few years many moons ago, and from breathing in the acrid 9/11 smoke that smoldered for three months. Plus chest wall restrictions from FOP doesn’t help, either. So I had shared it on the Encounter Prayer Network and Ronnel said he had a Word for my healing. I thanked him, and added that even if God doesn’t heal my FOP, that I don’t suffer and am happy pointing folks to the Trinity via my circumstances and countenance. Then it occurred to me that my acceptance and indifference might be a lack of faith. I reached out to pastor Karen, and she said she understood but that was stemming from an old mindset born of disappointment and discouragement from years of no miracles. She confirmed a prophetic word spoken over me from ten years ago that all healing doesn’t always come all at once, but over time. I was told I’d be healed in increments. And when I thought about it, I’ve been freed from severe chronic pain and opiates, my knee stopped locking up when Daniel Moore prayed over me and God told me, “My banner over you is Love.” And now my lungs. Not to mention when I was about seven and my then church family laid hands on me and the several FOP tumors on my back dissolved before their eyes according to the account told to me by my big sister, Esther. So pastor Karen told me to have a face to face with God, and ask him what the more looks like. That’s when He said, “You think you shine for me now?? Wait until you’re healed and walking! I’m positioning you for a miracle, and you will host revival when it manifests!” He later told me I’m hosting revival NOW by sharing my testimony, and we all do when we share God’s goodness and faithfulness! That’s the long and short of it. Oh, and she advised me to guard my heart against nay sayers who don’t have the same measure of faith, lest I get discouraged. I told her I’m strong like bull!!

I release this same healing over you in this moment! Amen.

“But those who wait for Yahweh’s grace
will experience divinestrength.^[a]
They will rise up on soaring wings and fly like eagles,
run their race without growing weary,
and walk through lifewithout giving up.” Isaiah 40:31

Ephesians 5:29
29 Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.

Exodus 23:1
1 “Do not spread false reports. Do not help a guilty person by being a malicious witness.

James 4:11
11 Brothers and sisters, do not slander one another. Anyone who speaks against a brother or sister or judges them speaks against the law and judges it. When you judge the law, you are not keeping it, but sitting in judgment on it.

Proverbs 18:2

The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.

Slander is defined as, “the action or crime of making a false spoken statement damaging to a person’s reputation.” God is urging us to not gossip about each other. Even when we are right about the other person’s transgressions. We are essentially breaking the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill” when we speak anything negative against another. We need to be careful how we speak. Words are so powerful, God uses them to speak the world into existence. In Matthew 18:15, it says, “If another believer sins against you, go privately and point out the offense. If the other person listens and confesses it, you have won that person back.
If we don’t have this opportunity for whatever reason, it is up to us to take it to the Father, and see what He has to say. And we must forgive as God forgives us.
In Proverbs 19:11, we see, “Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his glory to overlook an offense.”
And in Ecclesiastes we hear, “Do not take to heart all the things that people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. Your heart knows that many times you yourself have cursed others,” in chapter 7:21-22.

Mission- Are you easily offended? Do you run to vent to someone or do you forgive immediately by taking it to God and not letting it take root in your heart? Think about the last time you were offended. Are you still offended, or can you give the offense to Jesus and heal you’re heart?

While soaking in God’s presence one day, He showed me a mountain of burden being lifted off our world, I’ve been praying daily for the manifest presence of God to fill the hearts of everyone. One day while saying this prayer silently to myself while my caregiver was caring for me. She let out a huge sigh the moment I prayed for His presence to fill people’s hearts! He shows up!

He also showed me that we are like the fragrance in the alabaster jar that Mary broke over Jesus’ feet. This fragrance stayed with Him during His death, burial and resurrection. We are that fragrance, He said. And it occurred to me that there’s an element to perfume that is likened to the chemicals in feces. It’s called a, “low note.”

“According to HMDB (Human Metabolome Database), which is like IMDB for chemicals, indole “occurs naturally in human feces and has an intense fecal smell. At very low concentrations, however, it has a flowery smell, and is a constituent of many flower scents (such as orange blossoms) and perfumes.” … Indole!Nov 13, 2018

So even with all of our sin, God still makes something beautiful. We are His perfect creations. Made in His image, to release our fragrance to the world so people can know He is Love, because we are love.

But if we freely admit our sins when his light uncovers them, he will be faithful to forgive us every time. God is just to forgive us our sins because of Christ, and he will continue to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

1 John 1:9 TPT

We all screw up, right? That juicy bit of gossip or a white lie that we don’t consider that it grieves the heart of God. We get a check in our spirit that we’re heading down the wrong path. That nudge serves as an opportunity to repent and turn our hearts back towards Love. He’s there with open arms, waiting to embrace us and tell us it’s all going to be okay. Our tent increases as we seek to serve Him with pure hearts and accept His forgiveness. Where do your thoughts go when you sin? Do you beat yourself up and get nervous that God will punish you for it? Or do you recognize that that’s not who you are and turn away? Can you accept God’s forgiveness? Is it easy to forgive yourself? Why or why not?

1 Corinthians 13

[ Love, the Motivation of Our Lives ] If I were to speak with eloquence in earth’s many languages, and in the heavenly tongues of angels, yet I didn’t express myself with love, my words would be reduced to the hollow sound of nothing more than a clanging cymbal. And if I were to have the gift of prophecy with a profound understanding of God’s hidden secrets, and if I possessed unending supernatural knowledge, and if I had the greatest gift of faith that could move mountains, but have never learned to love, then I am nothing. And if I were to be so generous as to give away everything I owned to feed the poor, and to offer my body to be burned as a martyr, without the pure motive of love, I would gain nothing of value. …

For a while for me, I felt unworthy of love. I actually apologized to someone for loving them too much. Wanting them to know my love is pure and without selfish motives. I truly just want the best in those moments interacting with that person. With anyone. It’s not romantic love or lust in any way. It’s my sincere heart to live in the river of joy overflowing.

But it wasn’t always like this. I felt unworthy of love for the longest time, misunderstanding love for pity. I never want anyone to pity me. Once I let God love on me, and was vulnerable enough to admit to myself and Him that I needed Him, I was able to start receiving His reckless love. I never want to be a burden but an inspiration and an encourager, so I love each person with my heart on full blast all the time. I know God’s intimate Love and want to share it with everyone! I’m adopted, no longer an orphan. It’s freeing to realize i never was orphaned or abandoned. Agape love is defined as, “the highest form of love, charity. The love of God for man and of man for God. I aim for agape in all my interactions. Even with people from call centers. I tell them God loves them beyond all telling, and that Christ died for their sins at the end of the call. Is it easy for you to love? Do you feel worthy of God’s love? Why or why not? Do you have agape love in your life?

My leader, Shannon challenged our group to do a “Shabbat.” Shabbat means to stop and rest, and open our hearts to God. As I was praying yesterday, I asked God what He thought of me. So many amazing adjectives came back to me, things I never even believed about myself until that moment. It was instant confidence. I didn’t know I had these holes in my heart until he filled and healed them. I thanked him for His kind words and then we had a conversation! He was hilarious! There was an easy familiarity that felt like I’ve known Him my whole life. And I have. Just not like this! This was a whole other level of intimacy. I asked Him why we never spoke like this before. He said that I closed the door. Whoa. But the first inklings of guilt and shame were whisked away and forgotten. He gently turned my face back to his and loved me even more. My heart swells as I write. His love is everything. So THIS is what people mean when they say they have a relationship with Jesus! I finally get it! It’s always felt one way. Like speaking into the void, hoping and trusting I’m being heard. He was so gentle with me yet also held me accountable. I told Him I’ve missed Him, and He said He’s always been right here in His word. He lovingly said, “I’ve missed you, too.” Holding me accountable for not diving in. Memes with memory verses on Facebook does not allow for that intimate connection that happens when you read God’s word in depth. I was instantly convicted but not condemned. I was honest with myself enough to admit I’ve been distracted. Sermons and worship and book studies are good, but there’s nothing like His Word directly from the source. But we have access without striving. Delving deeper into His Word will draw me closer. I just learned that Words of Affirmation are my love language. How cool is it that He’s available to talk to whenever I want?!

This changes everything! I can’t wait to intentionally “Pray always” in this new to me way, and continue this freedom, Grace, and Love that has been there all along. But God clearly said we have a lifetime in eternity to get to know one another. This is Love.

Love,

Tisa

When I was in kindergarten, we had a counter across the kitchen in our first home. Much like a bar, but short and with benches pulled up for us to eat different meals. This was the daily routine. We gathered around our big wooden dinner table for Sunday dinners and holidays. The bar was my favorite! It was at that lunch counter where my mom would serve me ham sandwiches after school everyday. I loved them.

I loved them so much, that when I was diagnosed with FOP, I created an imaginary friend who lived in Ham Sandwich City. Her name was Tina. Tina could do everything I couldn’t. Tina took ballet and had tickle fights and could still do headstands. It was through her, God comforted me. I could play dolls with her for hours or just have a conversation about how I really felt about the new world in which I lived.

My mom and dad forbid me from reading any literature on FOP. Outside of telling me to be careful, they kept the details to themselves. I never wanted to disappoint them, so I obeyed. It wasn’t until my twenties that a friend of my mom’s sent me the disease’s website. My worlds collided. I was a fish out of water. I had no idea how to navigate these new waters. But what the blessing was, was that I met others with the condition. God comforted me and my burden was removed and lifted when I met Jeannie Peeper, founder of the IFOPA. I met my real life Tina, too! She also has FOP and became my close friend. She taught me how to navigate my newfound information and made me feel comfortable knowing she went through what I went through. I was then elected to the Board of Directors of the International FOP Association. I was also editor of their monthly newsletter.

I believe God will heal me completely one day. He died on the cross for our sins and diseases. I think insulating me from the horrific truth of FOP was a good parenting call, because I grew up believing God can and will heal me. He has so far healed my knee that used to lock up, softened my arms, and I am sitting closer to ninety degrees recently. Believing that God is manifesting my healing. And soon!

Love,

Tisa

I grew up mainly going to Catholic Church, but my mom would also take us where the Holy Spirit was manifesting. She had her finger on the pulse. There was a lively preacher who would say, “I claim a duplicator!” In one name it claim it church. We mostly attended Holy Family Catholic Church where my dad’s booming voice would be heard in their yearly haunted house. At St Timothy’s Episcopal where the Gerard’s were holy and had a loving community. And at St. Viator’s, where we attended the elementary and middle school. I made many lifelong friends at all three churches over the years.

The Catholic Church first entered our lives when my grandma was a little girl. She broke her arm playing and had to go to the hospital for a time. The doctor would carry her on his shoulders around the ward. She felt like a celebrity! Her parents were Presbyterian. It was a Catholic hospital that she went to. When they cleared all of her hospital debts, that got my great grandparent’s attention. They were quick converts. Over the years, my grandma developed a relationship with both Jesus and her priests. It was when my grandpa died that she relied on her priest friends a lot more in the running of her household. My grandpa handled all of the family’s bills and finances, and my grandma had no clue. She attended mass daily and even counted the collection plate on Monday mornings. I most remember my grandma’s reading her bible daily, with lots of highlighting and bookmarks in it. Her kindness when she let me move to Manhattan to live with her and my sister was so great.

I didn’t find out until later that she was throwing away flyers from a new church plant called, “Mosaic” in lower Manhattan held in a public school. I had been searching Manhattan for a pool that I could swim in. At the time, I had gotten bursitis in my hips and walking was becoming more difficult. I needed water. As I was walking along Chambers Street towards the new pool, I was handed a flyer for Mosaic Church. I immediately got excited! The missionaries were my age and super nice. I went the next day, which was Sunday. The worship was a little band, kind of like a Christian rock band. Worship was amazing. Then a young thirty something preacher got up and started talking about God’s love and I was all about it. Yes, it was a departure from me being the cantor at St. James, which was also my mom’s church growing up. I was fifty plus years younger than anyone else. At Mosaic, there were tons of people my age! I got plugged into a small group and a bible study and I was on my way!

I regularly received Holy communion in between singing the offertory and communion songs. Fr. C skipped over me one Sunday. He refused to give me communion. I was devastated. It sent me into a major depression. I just wanted to praise the Lord! I didn’t realize my attendance at a different denomination was a big deal. Well it was to my priest and my grandma. He was trying to excommunicate me in retrospect. I was volunteering as a greeter at the new church, and my grandma told me that if I had extra time, I should go back to teaching catechism to the kids at St. James. I sought counseling for my broken and confused heart, I was scared. Scared to speak scared to eat. I don’t know if it was my imagination but right before my first therapy session, my grandma made me stew with zero salt or flavorings. It was bland and tasteless. My grandma was an excellent cook with dinner ready like clockwork- on the table at 6:00pm sharp. So I knew I was in trouble. I think what broke my heart most was the denial of love from both of these people who I loved and admired. Were they that threatened over me attending a different church? I remember wanting to cuddle my grandma in her bed but feeling her walls up. If hell is the absence of love, then I was in it. Plus I was in constant pain. My hips would lock up while I was walking down the street and I’d have to stop and pretend I was a tourist looking up at buildings. This was during the time of flip phones with no internet so I tried my best to look busy. After the pill kicked in, I was able to walk again. So between my health issues and my broken heart, I ended up in the hospital.

In the mental ward hallway bathroom, there was a huge, sharp piece of metal sticking out of one of the bathroom stall doors. I reported it to the office staff right away and they were frankly surprised that I didn’t take the opportunity to open a vein. I knew I’d never do that, and after I reported it, a few staff members asked me why I was even on a psych hold, because I was obviously not suicidal. Just really sad. And I was also confused as to why where I worshipped was becoming more important than who I worshipped? I was released shortly after the hold was lifted with everyone, even my fellow patients wondering why i was in there. I’m usually never sad, so for my friends and family to see me so distraught was worrisome. I made friends and prayed over people in there, so maybe that’s why God let me go. Before I was discharged there was an older man sitting in a chair near the very loud door leading to the stairs. It was the only nearby exit except for the elevator down the hall. He looked at me but also through me. He asked me if I’d ever been hypnotized. In fact, I had listened to a self hypnotic tape over and over again when getting over the break up of my fiancé. He had began drinking heavily and said he loved everything about me except for my disease. My feeling was he should love all of me. Plus when he started getting behind the wheel drunk, that was too much. I couldn’t bear to lose him over a dumb choice. So this man was sitting in the only chair by the exit. When I answered yes, he said I needed to repent and apologize to God for seeking that treatment. I did immediately. And just then, a staff member called my name to leave and i tuned back around to thank him but he was gone. Evaporated. There was no way he went through the loud, creaky door, nor made it down the hall to the elevator in time. He was an angel. My grandma and my mom, who had flown out to see me also visited me daily in the hospital. They prayed with me and brought me Holy communion. I know God sent that angel to help me heal. I loved my grandma, and I also saw how devoted she was to the Catholic Church for all they did for her. I understand she was doing her best to try to instruct me on how she felt was best. And I’ll be forever grateful for her getting me safely through my twenties. I was a wild child in my teens but got serious about school and life after moving to New York. She had me elected President of the Ladies Auxiliary from the Fighting 69th regimen. Even when I’d be in pain, she’d shake me out of bed to go out to church or dinner or a club meeting. I learned not to be a moper from my grandma. I learned that daily bible reading is essential for inner freedom. I learned that a broken heart can derail you, but the love of God and of family is a healing balm. I have forgiven both my grandma and my priest, and am so grateful for the growth that came out of it. My confidence is much stronger when it comes to issues of faith. I know who my Father is, the Trinity that adores me and calls me His beloved. I have courage like never before in my decisions to worship and love God and people. I have been set free from the constraints of religious elitism. Jesus is for everyone. You are His beloved! He recently gave me this verse:

I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have called you, and you are mine. Jeremiah 31:3

I attend Encounter Church, Las Vegas which is a nondenominational church and where I experience the manifest presence of the Trinity with each visit. We speak in tongues together at each service. I love it. There is a strong unity of community here. We are a movement that loves one another and cheers each other on, praying for each other’s intentions on a regular basis. Plus their worship is so holy and anointed, my soul sings!

From the year of my religious freedom- https://youtu.be/5IlVfkY5q54

Love,

Tisa

Eugene J. Caruso was one of seven children, originally from the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, NY. They grew up in a Brownstone with relatives on each floor just like in the movie, Moonstruck. His parents then moved their family of nine to the Catskill Mountains in New York State.

He attended school up until the eighth grade. It was then he started working and giving his paychecks to his mother. They started the, “Caruso Villa” in upstate New York and he took odd jobs around town when not fixing up or working at the hotel.

Later in life he was an Arthur Murray dance instructor. When not teaching, he taught women how to waltz at various parties. He often waltzed in our kitchen with my mother. Some of my best memories!

He fought in the Korean War. When I’d ask him about it, he’d tell me he was on the clean up crew.

One of his jobs upstate was as maitre’ d and head bartender at the police camp. My mom says when she saw him, she knew he was the one, and told her grandma that night. They came to Las Vegas on their honeymoon and never moved back. Their priest asked them if they would accept any children God had for them and they said yes. Even adopting my sister, Suzy Q after her parents both passed away.

My dad was so funny! He’d read the morning paper and get ideas for jokes a la Johnny Carson. He was a bartender at the Stardust Hotel across from the Sports Book for 31 years. He had regular customers who would plan their vacations to spend time with him at his bar. One time, a famous comedian sat at his bar, then gave him and my mom comped seats to his show. My dad was tickled when the comedian used all of his jokes on stage.

He built us a forever home with his own hands. When the wood was delivered, it was supposed to rain. He and my mom prayed it wouldn’t rain on the wood. My sister Mary reminded me that it only rained on half of our street, and didn’t wet the wood! She said we danced in the rain, then jumped to the other side of the street where there wasn’t rain, dancing back and forth, rejoicing in the miracle! He and his siblings had sold Caruso Villa, and regretted not having a place to go back to over the years. So with his self taught knowledge, him and his friends built our 3800 square foot home. And he bought me another pool. He had bought the land from our neighbor, and a coworker gave him the blueprints. I helped him cut the wood for our pantry shelves. He was amazing.

He loved golf! He played weekly on his days off. There’s a plaque commemorating him at the Boulder City golf course where he was a Marshall.

When they moved to Las Vegas he worked as a bar back and a cab driver to make ends meet and support his growing family. Back then, casinos had a public announcement system to page guests. He told me he’d page himself after he applied for the bartender position. He’d hear, “Eugene Caruso to the front desk” or, “Eugene Caruso to the Lido deck” He said when he went in for his interview, they said, “Eugene Caruso? Sounds very familiar!” He was very smart!

He had a lovely singing voice. When we’d have nightly family prayer time, he’d sing so wonderfully. I’d rest my head on his big belly and listen to his stomach gurgle. My favorite thing to do. He used to sing, “There she is! Miss America!” To me often. He stopped singing when he got older. He lost his voice completely when the cancer came. He went from a large, tall man to a skinny ghost of himself. He told me not to visit from college, but to remember him as he was. Of course I didn’t listen. That was the first time my heart was truly broken. This man, who built me an in ground pool because doctors said it was the best therapy for me. This man who would always see the best in everything and everyone. His humor didn’t come with severe barbs that left you feeling less than. There was always a compliment sewn in. He left you feeling good about yourself. Always clean jokes. He didn’t tolerate anything torrid.

I remember him comforting me when I broke up with my fiancé. He gave me the biggest hug and spoke words of love and comfort. When I moved to New York shortly after, he noticed I sounded depressed. He knew from my voice. He was so good to me.

His faith was very strong. He was head usher at St. Viator’s Church for many years. He served faithfully at the 5:00 mass, and donated generously to their new building fund. His name is preserved on their book of donors that hangs in the vestibule. He always said he had to pray about things before making any decisions. And he always said he had to see a man about a horse when he didn’t want us in his business.

He bought me a car to share with my sister Rachel when I was seventeen. I loved that 1985 Buick! It was a sofa on wheels. He’d always tell us, “Remember that you’re a Caruso!” whenever we’d leave the house. Cancer took him home to Jesus on March 16, 1997. We visited him in the hospital, singing worship songs around his bed. The nurses said they’d never seen anything like it. When it got closer to the end, he was glowing and smiling and said, “Jesus! You’re so beautiful!” I sat at his feet giving him a foot massage like I’d do nightly after he was on his feet all day. My sisters would, too! He’d say, “Grab a foot!” At the end, he held my brother Paul’s hand and my brother said he felt a surge of electricity when he left the earth.

I couldn’t be prouder to have had such an amazing dad. This song forever reminds me of that moment before he died when he saw a vision of Jesus.

And we sang this song at his bedside-

Love,

Tisa

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