I go back to dusting. You know, as if I didn’t just go to war. Why strive to be She-Hulk or Wonder Woman? We can fight to be warrior helpmates with a dust rag in one hand and the Sword in the other, shielding our husbands and children from the enemy’s attacks.

The Spirit had given me spiritual eyes to see in that moment. I reach out my hand, place it on her, and begin to pray. I didn’t have any magical words. I stumble through it, rambling a bit here and there, but trusting that the Lord is hearing my prayer. I pray for healing. I reiterate what the Spirit had just spoken to me. I rebuke any evil spirit of sickness in the name of Jesus to leave. I declare that she’s a daughter of the King, washed in His blood, and none of his enemies can touch her. I finish with praising Him for who He is and what He will do…