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AskingAlexandriaLove Anyone wanna snap chat?  username:   kendraadawn


    Today (June 26,2013) the US Supreme Court decided to declare the Defense of Marriage Act unconstitutional. It broke my heart hearing this. These 9 non-elected judges just gave God the finger and said, "We know better than You. We are doing this because we feel Your definition is nothing but discrimination." They have brought God's judgement upon ALL who live in this nation.

   DOMA has been around since the Garden of Eden when God created Adam and Eve. One man and one woman. Though we have free will, God's laws still stand. He says homosexuality is a sin, it doesn't matter what we think, His laws still stand. If he says it's a sin back in the Bible days, what makes us think He's changed His mind now? 

   Of course, the Court says this was done in the name of "equality". They have no idea of what they have done. God is above ALL courts and governments of this world. And nothing they can say or do will change that. They could stand  before Him and talk until they're blue in the face and God will tell them they had fallen for a lie.

    This decision will put us on a slope to where the door is open that people will sue for the right to marry their animals or close family members. That's next. I can't hate these lost people. But I will stand by what God says about this matter, but I can love them and treat them like everyone else. St. Francis once said, "preach always, if necessary, use words." We need to show the love of Jesus to the best of our ability to the homosexual community at the same time not condone their sin. 






   First of all to be clear, I believe what the Bible says about the deception of homosexuality (I cannot call it a "lifestyle").  I live with my brother and he is one but I love him just the same. We have friends like that. They know I'm straight and still welcome them just the same. I believe marriage is between one man and one woman. 

    I went to my first "Pride" festival today. Interesting, but I felt my heart drop at what this world has come to. I didn't feel hate, but a great sadness for these people who most likely don't know this is a counterfeit of Satan. At one point I wanted to cry for them. My heart dropped as I walked around and spoke to people, protesters also. 

    I prayed in my spirit for this group that seeds would be planted in those who listened to the preachers. They definitely were NOT the Westboro Baptist types. I refuse to call Westboro Baptist a church. They yelled some because it is loud at times. These preachers were brave (you would have to be to do this), something I could never do unless God called me. Online is better suited for me.

    These unfortunate souls are either misinformed or have no idea of the Gospel. I could feel the demonic spirits covering the area. God loves them and wants all to turn from their sin and come to Him. At times, I whispered prayers under my breath for doors to be opened and spirits be convicted.  

     But my heart really broke with all the children there. They're being lied to and don't even know it. I really don't know if I want to go there again.

   I await the day God comes back and sin is removed for good. The Father knows what's best for us. But He gave us free will and He waits for His wayward children to come back to Him. 

    We can pray for God to show Himself to these people and open their eyes. That's the least we can do. Also show them through our words and actions love like Jesus commands us to do. "Preach always, if necessary use words" - St. Francis of Assisi

   God bless, Wonder


    At 21, I met up with two friends who attended elementary school with. One of them was now a self-proclaimed witch at this point. I told them what my stepfather had done to me. The male friend (he had burn scars from a childhood accident) said to me that if he had known this was happening to me, he would have killed him. The female friend who claimed to be a witch offered to cast a "death spell" on my stepfather. I asked her to drive him insane hoping he would kill himself. I took a picture of him and my mom when they married and gave my friend the part with just him. I tore it in two. 

    I didn't care about what God thought. I was angry and still lashing out to a degree. I wanted him to suffer like he made me. Well, two years later in summer of 1999, he died. He had stopped drinking after getting one too many DUIs cold turkey and started having seizures from that. Despite taking medication, he had one on occasion. On this night, he had one and it was too much.

   The funeral was held a few days later and I didn't even go. Why should I? This was a man who raped his children and stepchildren. Also, if I did go, I would most likely had made a fool of myself. All I did was allow my name be in the obituary as his stepdaughter. 

   Not long after my mom and myself moved out of Durham but not far. I was diagnosed with Asperger's and a right hemisphere learning disability. I was 23 and I thank God for that doctor. When he told me what I had, deep in my spirit I knew I had my answers in this area. 

    Well to put the rest in a nutshell, me and my mom moved around, to Salisbury, then to Lynchburg, Virginia. Then back to Durham for a few months staying in a shelter. Last year, she ended up in the hospital and I ended back up in Salisbury with my brother. For the last year, God had been dealing with me about forgiving my stepfather. And I've expressed interest in doing so. 

    I'm not in therapy or on any psych meds now. I'm attending community college. After my education is finished, unless God has other plans in mind, I would like to return to Durham so as to spend more time with my mom and be in a place of my own. I'm struggling to recover and find my place in this world as God wants me to be.

   That's my story in a nutshell. I hope that maybe someone reads this and gains the courage to tell their story or report injustice happening to another. God Bless, Wonder777




The Lord has blessed the ministry and gave me favor with a beautiful lady, named Barbara Beach.  Through her, the Lord has given me the opportunity to become a radio talk show host.

Last week I was a guest on Barbara’s show, the Radio Active Broadcasting Network, and I had the wonderful opportunity to talk about my life, the ministry, and the new door the Lord has opened to share His word with those in need.

It is my hope that as you listen to the show you will be inspired to write, email, or call in with any concerns you may have, and that I will be able to help bring some resolution to your situation.  I also pray that as you listen the words you hear will cause you to desire a closer relationship with the Lord. 

I am so excited about what the Lord has done, and I pray that you will be too!


Minister Shearon Hurst offers a compassionate voice to people looking for hope, inspiration, and affirmation on her new broadcast "Still Small Voice".  Author of three inspirational books, which can be found on her website at  Shearon also sends daily inspirational messages to thousands around the world.

Please listen to the show.  Barbara Beach introduces Shearon and her new show the “Still Small Voice”.

***I will update you with the air dates, time frame, etc., as soon as I have the information***
And here’s the show….


    My best human friend God ever gave me shares my first and last initials. She grew up abused by her oldest brother. She also worked with special ed students. I know now it was a God destined meeting. I always told her the truth about my past that I could remember at the time. We could pass for sisters, we even have a German ancestry. But other than we being Sisters in Christ, as far as we know of, we are not related. 

     In late Oct. 1989, Social Services asked me if I wanted to go back to my family and I decided to return to my mom. Since my time in the group home ultimately I got to visit my mom. I had been able to see my sisters, but not my brother up to that point. Now at 37, I question if I made the right choice. I came back to my mother and within a week, my stepfather rapes me twice before I told him to stop. And he does. Then the mind games begin, his foul mouth running, not caring who was present. He may have started to make a move on my little sisters after they came back home shortly before Christmas. 

     I just started to remember what he did to me by this point. I entered high school and the bullying had decreased greatly from the other kids, but what was going on at home was harder to cope with. More flashbacks were coming and it was getting to be too much for me. Especially when the monster was living under the same roof. It started with me walking out of the room whenever he came in. Since he didn't have my body, the mind games began. Asking me if I had any boyfriends and all while knowing I didn't. Though I went out on one date with a 20 year old but nothing happened out of that when I was 16. 

    It was October of 1993 when it all came out. Me and my mom got into it and she ended up going to the emergency room for a stitch in her face. I was 17 and a half when this happened. Left alone I called my aforementioned friend and she was shocked. Later she would tell me she knew something was wrong but wasn't sure. To this day I feel guilt for not saying anything earlier. Maybe if I had spoken up earlier, I could have spared my baby sisters this pain. There was a series of events that made my mom get me committed to a psych ward (again at Duke but a different unit) for a week and a half.

     I had sworn that if I ever found out my stepfather did this to any of my siblings, I would have killed him myself. At least castrate him. And I tried at least twice.

    I graduated from high school and did some vocational rehab. My mother never called the police, just threw him out of the house for a year or two. He lived in a boarding house and came back when the seizures were too much. He had actually come to my bedside and rubbed my leg. I know because I woke up and caught him doing it. 

   Part 5 next week



    In January of 1988,  SS shipped me off to a group home in Charlotte, NC. It was where troubled kids were taken in (some wards of the state and others who had things like behavior problems). This was my real first experience with "regular" kids. In 3rd grade, the authorities tried to place me in with the normal kids, but within the hour, the teacher's assistant had to be called to take me back. 

    My experience there wasn't bad. Therapy and not being cooped in most of the day was better. My foster mom came whenever she could to visit. Just days after my 12th birthday, the roommate I had dared me to kiss a boy and I did. My first kiss and it made me feel like everyone else for a brief second. We were a couple for a while until I left in August of that year. Also, after over a year apart, I got to see my mom again. She was amazed at how much I had grown, but became mad because of my hair being short.

     Well, I come back home to Durham and my foster mom. She tells me I'm being placed in regular classes from now on at school. "Mainstreaming" they called it.

    Seventh grade was the most difficult school year of my life so far. Ill prepared and not really prepped to be around the regular kids. At least twice a week I was in the office for fighting. I was lashing out and despite my attitude, the teachers saw something in me. Especially my language arts teacher, who I couldn't stand. By the end of the year, I had respect for him and the last time I saw him I was visiting to root for a friend at a football game there in 9th grade. In my senior year, I learned he contracted HIV and returned to his hometown on the coast and died there. 

     I had started dealing with my problems in therapy at this point. My main problem then and even now are about me putting up walls between myself and others. Sometimes now I seem to picture myself waking up in my room when I was with my foster mom and it's late at night. She's standing at the door like I had a nightmare or something. I don't know if it's a memory or something I reconstructed.

    At the start of 7th grade, I started to really attend church with my foster mom. She still attends it to this day. I met up with a woman who seemed familiar to me. I began to open up and we pieced together where we met before. It was on that psych ward at Duke almost a year earlier! 

    Part 4 (Coming soon, I'll try to post at least once a week)


    I believe that to know me, I have give you a glimpse of where I came from. Good, bad and ugly. Maybe these first few entries will give you an understanding of who I am and I hope I can do this to the best of my ability.

     To continue, around age 5, my mother met the man who would be our stepfather (my older brother and sister and myself). He moved in after leaving his first wife and six grown kids.  They had one daughter and Mom was almost due with the youngest girl when they got married.

     Also at that time, he began to molest and eventually rape me. He was an alcoholic and that's part of the reason I don't drink or sleep around.  Sometimes I could still smell the beer like I was there during flashbacks. I was the perfect target being quiet and keeping to myself and all that went along with my autism.

    It went on until I was one month shy of turning 11 in 1987. Someone I knew reported our family to Social Services on suspicion of abuse. I went to stay with this person and her husband until Easter Sunday the next month when I told them I didn't want to stay with them anymore.  Within the week, I met my foster mother. It was 3 weeks before my 11th birthday and the picture stays with me to this day. Short, Michael W. Smith perm (If you see the pictures of him around that time you know what I mean), round-framed glasses. And a personality that was so sweet, my blood sugar goes up.That's the best way to describe her. The perm is now long gone and the glasses are up to date but the personality is still there.

    After going to lunch for 2 weeks, I moved in with her. I was her first foster kid and boy was I handful. Well, it was a mix of hormones and lashing out from the abuse.  I could still remember the trailer we lived in. Every detail is burned into my memory. I thank God for her and the person who called SS on us. No bitterness towards her. 

     The therapy began there. Then that summer I went into a summer day camp with "regular kids". I really began lashing out then. In July it was decided the best thing for me was to be placed in a psych ward at Duke Hospital. It wasn't too bad, though being inside most of the day was difficult. In October, the woman who would become my best friend came into my life. 

    I had health issues, both physical and mental. So I was under drugs to treat both sides of that. Anyway, back to my soon to be sister in Christ.

    I had gotten saved at around 7-9, right around that time frame. I just remember going forward at the altar call and getting baptized the next Sunday. Well, in October  0f 1987, I was sitting in the doorway of the room I shared when I saw sneakers before me. Looking up, there was a husky woman wearing blue jeans and a red shirt with dark shoulder length hair. Mine was lopped off into a short cut I hated.

    She was there to see someone, her therapist as I recall. We talked a little and hit it off. Then she had to go, that was the only time I saw her while I was on there. 

    I found Christian music on the local CCM radio station the next month. A brand new world opened for me there. They let us have a small battery powered radio with no problem. My foster mom was the closest person to family I had who was allowed to come up to visit. I began to trust her by this point. She worked at Duke and she came up after work.  

    I began to deal with some of my issues stemming from the abuse. I would later find out that my stepfather was suspected of molesting me, but they couldn't do anything about that. Being on that ward at Duke affected me in a way I couldn't explain. 

      Next week, Part 3- The group home and life with my foster mom. Are you hooked? Come back to read more. And yes, despite me not giving many details, this is ALL true. Maybe someone reading this may be moved to do the right thing, whether it's about telling about abuse, in their own life or save another. See you next time! Love Wonder777!



 Hello everyone. I would like to just say God Bless you for reading this and under my handle, I would like to try my hand at this blog thing. So bear with me here. 

    I was born in Durham, North Carolina in 1976. At age 2 I was diagnosed with autism because my speech was delayed and my mother took me to doctors where the diagnosis came from. But I finally talked at 3. I used to joke that until I was 3, I just didn't have anything important to say.

    I have an older brother, older sister, and two younger sisters. We were all raised by a single mother. I never knew my biological father and know only a few details about him.  Though I have an interest in tracking down family from that side. 

    Not a lot I really remember before the age of 5. The first real memory I have was fracturing my wrist back then. Even after that, memories of my childhood are hard to come across. Sometimes I have something to trigger my memory. A story or object can help. Some memories I have reconstructed by the accounts of others.

 I hope this piques your interest! And I pray you will come back for more and future blogs may help you in the trials of your life! God Bless. Wonder777.

craigdressler The Christian thriller entitled Heart of Terror was recently released.  The Midwest Book Review said of the book: "Heart of Terror is an exciting twist of thriller and faith, very much recommended reading."  The novel is available as an ebook as well as in hard copy from and from the Barnes and Noble website. 

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