First Michael, Now Whitney…

 I’m driving my four year old Sarah and eight year old Lydia to school a few days ago and this is what I hear from the back of the car:

Sarah: “I’m so happy I’m not dead, because I love going to school soooooo much!”

Lydia: “Well, you know you’re gonna die soon.”

Me: “Lydia! Don’t say ‘soon!’”

Lydia: “Well, okay, maybe not soon. But mom, we’re all gonna die someday.” Two days later, I’m sharing this story with a friend, and my four year old adds a new detail. “Mom. My friends at school didn’t believe me when I told them they’re gonna die.”

“What did your teacher say?” I’m wondering why I haven’t gotten a phone call yet.

“Oh. She didn’t hear me tell them.” Whew! Sort of.

When I think of the music that filled my ears for more than two decades, Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston placed right at the top of my Billboard Charts for many a week.

Three years ago, we were biking as a family when my third daughter took a tumultuous fall, and hubby wasn’t sure if she had broken one of her fingers in addition to all the scrapes and cuts she acquired. She forgot to brake on a steep downhill and lost her balance. Hubby held her for awhile, and when the wails turned to quieter sobs, he transferred Lydia to my arms and raced his bike home to get the car. When he returned, he told us the news he had heard on the car radio.

Michael Jackson had died.

Two nights ago, we watched a really great movie with the girls and some good friends visiting from out of town. Adam Kendrix’s “Courageous.” From start to finish, the stories of these four men, the acting, the dialogue and the message together made for a stellar package. I sat next to my oldest and we shared the Kleenex box. Yup. Prepare to cry for sure.

When the credits began to roll, hubby’s best friend opened up his iPad, suspecting that he recognized one of the actors. Sure enough, the guy was on his friend’s Facebook page. Small world.

Then he announced a somber, “Oh. Whitney Houston died.”

I’m sure it was all over the Internet in a matter of seconds. Sigh. Another amazing artist’s life is over. Cut short and gone in an instant.

Reminds me over and over again that fame, fortune, and expensive medications perhaps can prolong the end, but no one will escape the inevitable. In the sobering words of my eight year old, we are all gonna die someday.

These words should make each of us think. What do I want to be remembered for? What do I want to accomplish before I take my last breath? What do I want to contribute before my turn is up? What do I believe about life after death?

My daily motivation is fueled by music. I have a theme song for every season of my life. Sometimes the song stays with me for weeks on end. Sometimes, just a day or two. My latest theme song that I cling to each morning when I’m looking for my “go gettem tiger” shout of “Go Gettem Tiger!” is a song by Mandisa. It’s called, “Waiting for Tomorrow.”

Because, let’s face it, there are no guarantees that any of us gets another tomorrow. Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston fans know this. But we forget quickly too.

Mandisa sums it up so well:

“Can’t spend my whole life wasting
All the grace I know I’ve been given
‘Cause you’ve made for so much more than
Sitting on the side lines
I don’t wanna look back and wonder
If good enough could’ve been better
Everyday’s a day to start over
So, why am I waiting for tomorrow?”


So. Why are you waiting for tomorrow?

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