Thursday, September 29, 2016


Written By Angeline M Duran Santiago
Dedicated with Love to Mom, Socorro Maria 


 I see her sitting on the sofa by the window, looking out into the beautiful front yard. She's turned it into a garden that welcomes visitors and makes passersby smile. I see her staring out into the open street and if you look hard enough, you'll see it's still pretty dark outside, morning has not even begun. 

But, she is awake. She has raced against the sun and she has won. With her worn Bible on her lap, she keeps her eyes forward and someone sitting next to her would think she's waiting for the sunrise, but if you come a little closer you will not see, but hear what I hear. "Good morning, Lord." she whispers. "It's another day for you and me. Here I am, Lord. I love you, heavenly Father and I need you so much this day."

 On and on she goes, talking to her unseen Heavenly Father as if he was her best friend. She seems far away in thought but she has not lost her senses, she is lost in prayer, an intimate conversation with the Lover of her soul, God Almighty. Slowly, tears stream down her cheeks and if you come a little closer you will hear her whisper each name of each of her children, her grandchildren, her loved ones, every one she has ever promised to pray for and those that the Spirit of the Lord impresses upon her heart to wage war for. 

She goes on her knees and she cries out to the Lord, reminding Him to rise up and take His place to defend His children, His anointed ones, His chosen ones. 

She cries out for healing, speaking out God's promises she has highlighted and marked in her old Bible. She looks for scripture verses she can read aloud and reminds the Lord, "I trust in You, My Lord, You are faithful!"

 Although her knees don't have the same strength they used to, and her waist is usually aching, she pushes herself upward and takes the stand of an ancient warrior, one who has defiantly stood in her ground in times of warfare, spiritual warfare that has risen from the depths of darkness against her life and those she holds deep in her heart.

She is a prayer warrior. She is a woman of faith. You may know her. She may remind you of your grandmother, your mom, or you grandfather. She may remind you of someone in your past that prayed with you and guided you through hard times. I know her as my mom, my personal praying partner who rises with the light of the moon still shining upon her rooftop to release blessings upon her children as they go on their way to work and get ready for school. She rises to sing praises to the Lord, hoping her song and her praise is one of the first to fill his throne room before the sun rises to dance before the Lord.


 Lord, protect and surround with your mighty power every ancient warrior that fearlessly rises to pray when we don't pray, when we can't pray and when we forget to pray. Anoint, strengthen and heal every prayer warrior who places others before the altar and rarely if ever, says, "Lord, remember me." Father in heaven, visit every grandma and grandfather, every parent and every church mama who has adopted so many into her womb and rises to wage war against the powers of darkness that come forth to wreck havoc against God's elect.

Lord, thank you for my mom. Thank you for ancient warriors who are fearless. Thank you for what you are doing and will do in her life today and daily. Strengthen her body, her knees and her heart. Flood her home with your presence. 

Fill her life with your glory! Answer prayer and let her hear your voice. Rejoice with her and let her see your face. Shower her with your blessings and let your Spirit be ever so real in her life and in her home. 

I see her by the window, praying for me.  And if you come a little closer, you may just hear her as she prays for you, too. 


Thank you, Mom, our prayer warrior, for your never ending prayers released up to the Lord on our behalf. 
We love you so much. 
May God do even greater things in your life each day!



By Angeline M Duran Santiago  The storm rages on and the winds buffet the lands in violent twirls. Some say it is the season for hur...