Hanging By A Prayer

July 13, 2025

When I lived on my own with my friend and mentor Jim, he worked nights and I was home with our border collie, Joni. She always slept at the foot of my twin-size bed, and my green stereo played Light FM softly through the night — it was the kind of station that filled a lonely room with peace. Mellow worship songs, light pop ballads, and encouraging words floated in the background like a second presence.

This was back in the mid-2000s, during a time when my eldest brother Kou and his firstborn son—my nephew Tommy, who’s only three years younger than me—were going through some really tough times. Jim and I talked and prayed about the possibility of bringing Tommy to live with us from California. But we didn’t take the idea lightly. We knew more than anything that Tommy wasn’t just going through a tough phase. He was in a spiritual battle for his life.

One night, I had a dream.
My sister and I were being chased by a demon. We were terrified, hiding in my dad’s old '90s Chevy. I was curled up on the floor of the front passenger seat in a fetal position, shaking. My sister was hiding in the backseat, trying to stay quiet.

But when the demon approached the car and saw her, she died instantly. Her hand hung limp over the seat. It was terrifying.

I was frozen—until something cut through the fear.

From the radio, I heard Fernando Ortega’s voice:
"Sing to Jesus, Lord of our shame. Lord of our sinful hearts. He is the Great Redeemer. Sing to Jesus..."

That song entered my dream like light cutting through darkness.

The demon heard it too—and ran. He literally scurried away. But before he left, I saw his face: twisted, deformed, ugly, with little horns and he was wearing a black trench coat. I’ll never forget it.

When I woke up, the song was still playing and I immediately got to my knees and worshiped God.

God, Creator of the Universe, of the Heavens and Earth, the Sea and everything in it.
The Almighty One who was and is and is to come.
The Alpha and Omega. The Beginning and the End.
Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.
The Prince of Peace.
The King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Forever and ever. Amen.

I knew then: this dream wasn’t a warning to scare me. It was a wake-up call to pray. To war in the Spirit. To open my eyes to how real, how near, and how powerful both the enemy and our God are.

I used to spend a lot of time writing out prayers—for my family, my friends, my community. I would track them and update them. Writing made my prayers intentional.

I say prayers. But not always with the depth or focus they deserve. Not always with urgency. Not always on my knees… or in my notebook.

And I know life is full—we’re all juggling a hundred things. But seriously, what is life if we’re not covering others—and being covered ourselves—in prayer?

So many things are out of our control. But the one thing we’re always commanded and equipped to do is pray. And not just casually. Fervently. Intentionally.

I’m guilty of missing people in my prayers. Guilty of offering hurried words instead of interceding with faith. Guilty of being distracted.

But I want that to change.

My prayer now is simple:
That the Holy Spirit would stir me daily to lift up my husband, my family, my friends, my clients, my community.

Because who knows who might be hanging on by a single prayer?

And maybe that prayer needs to be yours.
Maybe it needs to be mine.

So I’ll ask you, especially if you’re a fellow believer:
Will you commit with me to be more intentional in your prayer life?
To make time?
To write them down?
To intercede when it’s inconvenient?
To believe, again, in the supernatural power of prayer?

Because someone, right now, might be in the fight of their life — and they need you to stand in the gap.

Let’s not let them hang by a thread.
Let’s cover them in prayer.