The Warrior in Me

How could I have ever known this man who would teach me his love for me was as big and boundless as the sky, would forever have shown me also, how to fight.

How to stand, when others sit.  How to exceed what is expected, needed or requested.  His own example was right before me, for so many years, and yet I let them nearly slip away.  It’s funny how the mind is, though, storing bits and pieces of memories; shards, it seems, that cut their way through to the surface of our recall, as if to allow us a way through otherwise ‘stuck’ situations.

Strategic, tactical preparing, attention to detail, cleanliness to the level of pristine, even how to iron, fold, and “make a bed like they do in the military,” he’d say; my dad took the time to show me, teach me, pour in-to me.  Perception, endurance, persistent determination, he took the time to show me how and why; how to defend others.  How to work with what is in my hands; how to make something out of nothing.  I learned the art of the wait; stealth and patience are power twins, and without them one cannot learn endurance or the strength and joy that come from their reward.

My veteran father, a warrior whose purple heart was received for his wounds in action, and near death in the war in Viet Nam, continues to march for fallen soldiers and prisoners of war, today.  With shrapnel and bullet fragments lodged in his head causing numbness on his face, and an ear and an eye that won’t work right anymore, he marches on through Texas, for those who cannot march anymore.  His strength through the horrors of losing a child, a son 9 days old, to the poison of Agent Orange, is what kept our family together those first years back.  It was as if he never took off his uniform.  It was as if he didn’t know how.  Times where a simple road trip, meant near ‘military-like’ planning and implementing, right down to the packing of the toilet paper… everything was thought out; planned with careful precision and no room for mistakes.

When my sister and I thought to sneak out, one hot summer night, little did we realize the back yard was booby trapped with empty bucket pails, and he was sprawled out in his cammies in the dark part of the back yard.  Not until half my body was over the fence, did he stealthily come up from behind and secure us in one flip of the wrist… that’s my daddy!  Yep, and without a sound!  Could he know, here decades later, I would use the very same tactics to catch my own?

I watched and listened, pressed in to hear his heart; every sound and syllable as those war stories spilled from his lips.  One could hear the sounds of war; the cries of the injured and dying when he shared how his own wounds came to be, near Long Binh.  “Take Cover,” one screamed, as the explosion changed everything, forever.  The feelings of helpless shock and righteous indignation sweep over me even now, when I take myself to that place, in him.  A wounded place, yet still not whole.  A place where not many are allowed near… but my daddy knows there is healing in my hands.  The healing touch of a daughter who knows how to touch heaven and the hem of His garment; and so, he lets me in.

His story of how his preacher-father, my grandfather, was interceding for him as he lay in a hospital in Japan; near dead, and dying more than once.  He saw how the battle of good and not-so-good petitioned for him, to yield to an early, premature death.  I learned how to fight death through prayer, because of my daddy!  I learned how to win.

Years later, when standing at doors of death for myself and others, I would remember his stand.  I would recall his words and the look on his face; I would remember what swept over me, as I listened to his words on defeating Defeat; it fully supplied me, loaded me and positioned me to not take ‘no’ for an answer, when God had already said ‘yes’.  It was the thrust I needed, when all hope was gone; his words.  The words of my father, who not knowing was fully equipping me for life as a minister of Prophetic Spiritual Warfare in the battle for souls.

My father, a warrior, could not have realized the foundation he was laying in my life, would cause me to succeed in realms beyond the physical senses.  Whose own father, could not have fully foreseen the power of invisible prayer to change the visible world; seeds.  How far down the roots go, when the soil is just right;

“death? It’s just a shadow in a valley… you’ll come through!” he said…

I am my father’s child!

In honor of my father, Antonio L. Santos
U.S. Army, Retired

Sandra Cerda
Sandra Cerda

Sandra Cerda is an Ordained Minister, through the laying on of hands by the late John Osteen, Lakewood Church, in Houston, Tx.  She has overcome multiple Sexual Assaults as a child, teen and young adult, severe Drug and Alcohol Addiction, murderous Domestic Violence, black magic Witchcraft, Major Depression, Suicide and more, surviving a medical death sentence which gave her only months to live… 28 years ago!

Sandra Cerda is an Ordained Minister, through the laying on of hands by the late John Osteen, Lakewood Church, in Houston, Tx.  She has overcome multiple Sexual Assaults as a child, teen and young adult, severe Drug and Alcohol Addiction, murderous Domestic Violence, black magic Witchcraft, Major Depression, Suicide and more, surviving a medical death sentence which gave her only months to live… 28 years ago!

With infection covering nearly 100% of her body, she often found herself stuck to sheets and pillowcases. After 30 months and 10 doctors, she found herself sitting
at the back of a church that believed in Miracles! She was a practicing black-magic witch and suicidal-drug addict, when God heard her prayer! She is completely healed and whole today, moving in the Five-Fold Ministry Gifts with a very strong Prophetic Gift, gifted in Deliverance. The miracle, healing power of God, through Prophetic Spiritual Warfare, works through her life, touching and liberating people everywhere she ministers.  Former Spokes/Fashion and Commercial Print Model, Published Author, Sandra Cerda’s story has been broadcast over the years, through Daystar, TBN, 700 Club and Heart to Heart interviewers Joni Lamb, Spiritual Mother Dodie Osteen and Sheila Walsh with special reference highlighted in Mrs. Walsh’s book, Life is Tough but God is Faithful (available at amazon.com).

For more on Sandra Cerda, read her Story at www.cerdaministries.org   Contact Sandra Cerda for ministry
and experience this Prophetic/Warfare, Yoke-Destroying Anointing.
CONTACT Sandra Cerda TOLL FREE: 1-866-939-2309

 © 2017 Sandra Cerda.  All Rights Reserved.


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Written by Eduardo Quintana

I am an author and a speaker. I am the creator and CEO of Manly Training, an organization designed to bring Men to Christ and to Honor and Empower biblical Manliness.

2 comments

  1. It is encouraging to my heart to hear the expression of appreciation for a father and his efforts to lead his kids to triumphant paths.Fathers can make a difference in the lives of their children. Thanks for sharing your story, Sandra.

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  2. Rick, I appreciate your Comment; men like this go the extra mile without ever truly realizing it, I think… it’s just in them! I’m so glad he put it in me! Have a wonderful Father’s Day weekend! ~ Sandra

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