Remembering Whitney Houston: My Humble Tribute

Well, apparently the Grammys are on (or were) and I can’t even find the channel. Ask me if I care. Music is a beautiful thing but if it doesn’t give glory to God, well, I can’t say that it interests me much. However, that is not to say that there is not the occasional non-Christian song that catches my fancy, but for the most part, if it ain’t Christian, I ain’t interested.

Speaking of the Grammys, and music in general, I can’t help but think of Whitney Houston. Now her music might not fall in my traditional musical forte, but I couldn’t help but notice she was born in Newark, the city I’ve been compelled by the Lord to reside in for nearly ten years now.

Interesting to note, the other night Waiting to Exhale came on and I thought it too risqué to maintain the channel thereof, it being a movie I can’t say I ever watched fully. Never watched fully perhaps because I’m white, but more probably because my parents would have discouraged such a sexually permissive (a judgement….

Oops, forgot about my neighbor’s cat I let out on the roof a couple hours ago. Not my fault he’s so sneaky. (Don’t you love my denial of responsibility?)

Anyway, like I was saying, the movie just seemed to me to be too “sexually charged,” for lack of a better phrase. Maybe I made my judgement too hasty, being Whitney lost her life the next night….

Wow, just lost another sentence (see 12th paragraph of my Online Public Journal) due to accidental deleting, and since I’m creatively writing, I don’t feel it integrally creative to try to rewrite the sentence or so….

So, perhaps I could share a few of my thoughts over the day on Whitney.

My first thought would have to be understood in the context that I drive the church van for our church on Sundays. With that understood, it must also be understood that I work very closely with the youth, and the teenagers in particular which this first observation is related to.

While driving the church van picking up one of the youth about a year ago, they (opting for the singular use of the word to hide gender) came into the van singing Whitney’s I Look to You:

I have to confess now I’m shedding a tear as I write and that song is playing the background. They say that men are not to cry, but there are times that we allow ourselves to do so. And most times we won’t admit or confess it, it’s just not in our nature to broadcast the such. After all, we are men. Funny, just as I was writing “after all,” Whitney was singing it in her song. Wow!

Truth is, I have been avoiding the thought of her death, because indeed it made me want to cry (like it was contagious) seeing others were grieving over her passing.

I really can’t do this. Death is such a funny thing, making a grown man cry. Wow!

Well, I want to finish writing this post.

Pastor Sam (one of my pastors, if you didn’t know) said a prayer for the Huston family after his sermon today, which didn’t surprise me but kind of did (in a good way).

Lastly while driving folks home from church, someone pointed out the church where they thought Whitney grew up in (something I have not been able to confirm just yet…).

So really it was just those three things that I wanted to share about Whitney: Her comeback song that youth sang while stepping up into the church van those many months ago, my pastor’s prayer, and the church where she might have grown up in.

That being said, I might even say my own prayer for the Huston family:

Lord watch over that family in this time of need, and may there be seeds of salvation that come forth from this death, as in John 12:24. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen and amen.