Today marked the end of a tragedy, the final passing of one
of Gods true gifts to humanity. A voice
that was born and nurtured in the choir of a church in New Jersey, a spirit
that touched all that heard her voice or saw her smile. Whitney may have stopped breathing a few
short days ago, but she was killed years earlier by one of the great lies of
our time. Like Eve, tempted by satan,
Whitney was stolen from humanity by a lie, and her joy in life was replaced by
that lie. I disagree with the statement regarding why flags fly at
half-mast. It should not be reserved
only for those in military or in government.
Whitney touched the lives of millions of people worldwide as an example
on both ends of the continuum, good and bad.
She had an ability to touch the human soul, through her voice we were
able to imagine the heights to which the human spirit could climb and through
her addiction we saw how fragile the human condition truly is. Whitney will be greatly missed but in our
lifetime one of Gods brightest lights shown itself so briefly. In her both God and Satan made themselves
visible.
About Me
- aRBee
- United States
- Why Marbles My 1st blog attempt Was an answer to a promise I made to my eldest son when I handed him a jar full of marbles. The marbles were from a collection saved by my mother over the years of my childhood, and I must admit that if left to me I would have already lost all of my marbles. My son asked if I could jot down some of the ways these marbles were used I told him I would write down as much as I could remember and send it to him later. I am the supreme procrastinator of all time which resulted in him sending me a reminder at which time he promised not to lose my marbles and I reassured him that I would get busy and tell him and his children how the beautiful round bits of glass and minerals were used for amusement and competition. My Response2 blog arose out of frustration with the attitudes and lack of respect for our country, our traditional ethics, and educational system. Rons Lyrics and Poetry started just because my scribbles needed a place to rest.
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