Why Can't I Stop Thinking About Whitney Houston?

I can’t stop thinking about Whitney Houston. I believe that in my thinking about her God is communicating something to me.  I have always been interested in some of her songs, namely, ‘I want to Dance with Somebody,’ ‘I Will Always Love You’ and most recently, ‘I Look to You’. Every good thing comes from God. Therefore, I believe that all our beautiful talents and gifts undoubtedly come from the Father. It’s up to us to use them to His glory. If God gave you the talent of singing, you should use it to praise and glorify Him, and this doesn't mean singing ONLY gospel music but it does mean making sure that the beautiful creations that you do create with your music are building and do not dishonor God in anyway (Refer to Candy Shop by 50 Cent to see a great example of dishonoring God- that was the first one that came into my head).

There was a period in time when the topic of the illuminate was hot among teens in high school and someone told me that Michael Jackson was one of these offenders and that someone had seen him in hell and thus we should all steer clear of the late King of Pop’s music. I thought about this for a while and I decided that where Michael Jackson, or anyone else for that matter, had gone to spend eternity was really none of my business and also, I remembered that every good talent originates from God, and no one can deny that what that man had was raw talent, so I decided that I would help celebrate what God had given him by allowing myself to enjoy his music just as long as the content did not dishonor God. I love his music and I cannot name many musicians that exceed his level of sheer genius and talent. But, I digress…

When I look at and hear the music of the late Whitney Houston all I can think of is how beautiful this woman was and what a great legacy she has left, no matter how unfortunate the circumstances around her death were. I used to have a dog who would bark at selective people and we didn't think much of it until I saw that the people my dog used to bark at ended up stealing from us or doing something bad. I think my dog would have loved Whitney. Now, I will not pretend to have known her well but it saddens me that she died so young (I consider anything below 95 too young to die) with so much beauty left in her that would have contributed to beautifying the earth. What I also ask myself is should I judge her because she died of a drug overdose? What is God’s take on that? I have more questions than I have answers, but what I do know is that no one goes to hell for having a weakness or sinning if they know that Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. I just thank God for her life, and the lives of beautiful people and for the work that He does through them.

I’m not certain why Whitney has been so much on my mind lately but if I am to hazard a guess it would be that God is telling me not be judgmental like the rest of the world for we are all terribly imperfect. I feel that He is also reminding me to pray for strength to overcome the temptations of the world no matter what stage in life I am in but especially if ever I should be in the public eye. I pray that I create only beautiful things in my lifetime and leave a God-honoring legacy and that one day someone will look at my life and say, “that woman is beautiful, inside and out”, but also that even if no one ever does, that I am satisfied in who I am in Christ. It would be a great joy of mine if I could sing praises to God alongside Whitney in heaven.

I hope the lyrics of Whitney Houston’s song ‘I Look to You’ bless you as much as they have me. 

"I Look To You"

As I lay me down,
Heaven hear me now.
I'm lost without a cause
After giving it my all.

Winter storms have come
And darkened my sun.
After all that I've been through
Who on earth can I turn to?

I look to you.
I look to you.
After all my strength is gone,
In you I can be strong
I look to you.
I look to you.
And when melodies are gone,
In you I hear a song.
I look to you.

About to lose my breathe,
There's no more fighting left,
Sinking to rise no more,
Searching for that open door.

And every road that I've taken
Lead to my regret.
And I don't know if I'm going to make it.
Nothing to do but lift my head

I look to you.
I look to you.
After all my strength is gone,
In you I can be strong
I look to you.
I look to you.
And when melodies are gone,
In you I hear a song.
I look to you.

My levees are broken
My walls have come
Tumbling down on me

The rain is falling.
Defeat is calling.
I need you to set me free.

Take me far away from the battle.
I need you.
Shine on me.

I look to you.
I look to you.
After all my strength is gone,
In you I can be strong
I look to you.
I look to you.
And when melodies are gone,
In you I hear a song.
I look to you.

I Should Have Loved Him Better

This one is especially dedicated to people in challenging circumstances, remember to be grateful and make the most of what you have, because, the little you have could be gone in the blink of an eye.

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I had been angry for as long as I could remember, even though I would never readily admit it. The subtle hotness of my wrath would subside when I was occupied with other things- school, friends, and the books I so willingly allowed myself to be absorbed into because compared to my life, the stories they told were perfect, full of victorious adventure and happy endings.

 “Let me spend some time with him”, I had told myself, “just sit in the same room and quietly bond.”

Feeling positive, I took my books into the dining room and sat opposite him at the long dining room table. He was fast asleep, his glasses askew on his face and a newspaper from several years ago open in his slack hands. To this day I wonder if he actually read those yellowed newspapers that he treasured so much or if he only pretended to read them. If indeed he did pass his eyes over the words in perfect order, did the words seep into his mind and make sense, or were they just words to him, unrelated and telling a story he could no longer understand? I didn't wake him; I sat opposite him and did my work quietly, hoping that our souls would bond in some sort of way. I would sit there and be pleasant and that would be my good deed for the day, proof that I was a good, strong person.

I day dream often, either I think back on events already passed or I create my own events- mostly wishes of what I want to happen. That day I thought back to a conversation I had had with my mentor.

“I try to love him,” I had said to her, “I just need to learn to love him for whom he is now.”

Today I curse myself for having taken so long to learn to love him, for taking so long to love the man he had become. I got up and went to my bedroom to get some stationary to do my homework and when I returned to the dining room table he was awake and staring at me with a concerned look in his eyes. Our eyes locked for a split second before I turned away irrationally irritated by the awkwardness of it all.

“Do you have a running tummy?” he had asked me.

My reply was dripping with irritation, or was it the anger that was starting to heat up? “Why?” I asked, perhaps a little too roughly.

“You keep getting up and walking to and fro so I thought you must be ill.”

The anger heated me up fast, and caused my blood to boil. I often asked myself who I was angry at. Sometimes it was at him, for not being alright, for not fulfilling what I thought to be his fatherly duties and taking care of me, advising me where to apply to university, what to study, for not being that cool dad that I was keen to show off to my friends, for being sick for as long as I could remember. But that is just it- he was sick and by no means was it his fault. He had not chosen to have Alzheimer’s and to forget simple everyday things or have thoughts and communication skills more child-like than those of an adult. It would make no sense for me to be angry at him, even though he was the recipient of my foul moods and sullen silences. Therefore, I was angry at God, for one simple reason- He let this happen. I am still angry today, but the heat of anger often melts into floods of sadness. Who am I angry at today? Maybe I am angry at myself for not loving him better whilst I still could.

I did learn thought, gradually, to love him better. My love was never perfect though, and never will be the mirror image of 1^st Corinthians chapter 13. I was fond of him; I would not leave the room when he walked in, even later when he was pushed in on his wheel chair, crippled by the cancer. Things about him that used to make me angry didn't upset me so much anymore; my mother had taught me not to think too deeply and to learn to laugh things off. I remember taking advantage of his feebleness and giving him a hug- something culture would hardly permit if he was well and able. He had smiled as I put my arm around him and he patted my shoulder ever so slightly. Warmth has risen up inside of me.

I did not get to actively love him for a long enough time to mask the guilt and regret I carry around with me now. By that time I was hardly at home and soon I had to go off to university. I did not get to actively love him for the remaining two months of his life.

We often take for granted the situations that we are in. Indeed they are more negative than positive and so we dwell on the anger, the pain and sorrow of it all. That is our human nature. I wish I had been good to him, I wish I could have done something for him, I wish, I wish, I wish. He himself once told me that if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. What a funny saying, one I still do not fully comprehend. I appeal to you reader, do not waste the precious time that you have with anyone in your life. Mend broken relationships yes, and let go of the ones God tells you to. Above all- learn to love, and may that love be as close to the love God describes in 1^st Corinthians chapter 13 as humanly possible. I love you dad.

Mum and Dad holding hands in the hospital