Before being brought back to life, the woman is dead for 27 minutes. Her message is amazing.

This story of Tina and Madie Johnson is truly inspiring, both for the miraculous events Tina experienced and for the deep, lasting faith it instilled in those around her. Surviving a heart attack and being revived after 27 minutes is already remarkable, but Tina’s message of “It’s real,” as she pointed to heaven, has resonated with people worldwide. For her niece Madie, this simple, powerful message was profound enough to become a permanent reminder—a tattoo she proudly wears as a tribute to her aunt’s faith and resilience.

Faith stories like Tina’s often strike a chord because they touch on universal themes of hope, resilience, and belief in something beyond ourselves. Such experiences can reinforce faith for believers and inspire hope, even for those who may struggle with doubt. Tina’s journey and her message remind us that faith and courage are potent sources of inner strength, particularly in the face of life-altering challenges.

Through sharing Tina’s story, Madie has helped spread a message of love, resilience, and hope, demonstrating how even in the face of death, Tina’s belief carried her—and her family—forward. In difficult times, stories like these serve as beacons, offering comfort, strength, and a reminder of the profound impact faith can have on our lives.

I Incurred a $500 Fine When My Neighbor Falsely Accused My Son of Her Toddler’s Hallway Scribbles — I Couldn’t Let It Go

Caitlin often found herself informally supervising her neighbor Stacy’s young son, Nate, providing him some stability while his mom sought time for herself. However, when Nate decorated the hallway walls with doodles during Caitlin’s absence, she was unjustly slapped with a $500 fine. Determined to set things right, Caitlin devised a plan for retribution.

Stacy had become accustomed to letting her young son, Nate, roam the hallway as a play area.

“It’s safe, Caitlin,” she’d assure me. “Plus, it’s their version of outdoor play.”

She would then retreat behind her door, leaving Nate to his devices, often while she entertained guests.

“I just need some downtime,” she confessed to me once in the laundry room. “I’m a grown woman with needs, you know. Being a single mom, you must get it.”

I understood her need for personal space, but I could never imagine letting my own son, Jackson, wander the hallways alone. Despite our general familiarity with the neighbors, the corridors didn’t feel completely secure.

Jackson, slightly older than Nate, seemed concerned about the younger boy, who often loitered alone, clutching his tattered teddy bear.

“Mom,” Jackson would say during his playtime, “maybe we should invite him over.”

Grateful for my son’s compassion, I agreed. It was better to keep both children within sight, ensuring their safety.

Thus, we began having Nate over for snacks, toys, and movies—a simple arrangement that brought him noticeable joy.

“He mentioned he likes playing with others,” Jackson noted one day. “I don’t think his mom spends much time with him.”

And interestingly, Stacy hardly acknowledged this setup. Once she realized Nate was safe with us, she seemed to extend her leisure time even more.

Eventually, it became routine for Nate to knock on our door whenever his mother let him out.

“Hello,” he’d say, teddy in hand. “I’m here to play.”

However, one day, we were away at my parents’ house for my mom’s birthday.

“I hope Nate will be okay,” Jackson expressed concern as we drove.

“Oh, honey,” I responded. “His mom is there. She’s responsible for his safety too.”

Upon our return, we were greeted by hallway walls covered in childish drawings—a colorful chaos of stick figures and squiggles.

“Nate must have had fun,” I remarked, searching for my keys.

“Isn’t he going to be in trouble?” Jackson asked, eyeing the artwork

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