I was eight years old in 1968, when my father introduced our entire family to Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. He was a carpenter and my mother took care of three boys and four girls. We lived in a one bedroom apartment in Panama. 

My brother, Osvaldo, had been born with a tumor between his right ear and his brain. Every day he grew sicker and sicker. The doctors said Osvaldo's tumor was inoperable and he could not live much longer. 

My mother did the only thing that she could — she chanted almost day and night and shed many tears. My brothers and sisters chanted with her, but Osvaldo just got worse. He passed out frequently and sometimes did not even recognize us. 

He wanted to be like other children and go to school. One of my mother's friends, who was a teacher, accepted Osvaldo in her class. 

One day he passed out in her classroom. She drove him to the hospital but the doctors could not revive him. They pulled off all ten of his toenails, but there was no reaction. After pronouncing him dead they wrapped him for the morgue. My mother refused to let them take him away. She sat next to him and chanted "Nam-myoho-renge-kyo" in his ear. Suddenly, Osvaldo woke up and asked what was happening. His toenails started to bleed. The doctors were amazed. 

After this, no matter what, my parents never stopped chanting. My father made a butsudan, even though we could not receive the Gohonzon at that time. My mother took the water she offered to the Mystic Law and let Osvaldo drink all but a drop of it. She put the remaining drop in his right ear. 

Osvaldo wanted to put the drop in his own ear. She let him. In a few weeks, he told her that he had something in his ear. She thought he was teasing. Ten minutes later, he pulled something big but soft out of his ear. It looked like a meatball with tiny roots hanging from it. Doctors examined him, took x-rays, asked other doctors to look and him again and again but could not find any trace of the tumor. The doctors said that he removed his own tumor without pain, surgery or even a single drop of blood. 

Today my brother is 37 years old. He has five children of his own. My mother received the Gohonzon on Jan. 27, 1969. A year later she bought a new house. Our whole family continues to practice Nichiren Daishonin's Buddhism and fight with the SGI for kosen rufu. 

No matter what, I will never stop practicing. I will continue to chant "Nam-myoho-renge-kyo" until the last moment of my life. I will continue to work for kosen rufu every day. 

[This experience was given at a Washington DC Kosen Rufu Gongyo.]