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  • Writer's pictureArtisha Bolding

So good, take this heart of mine into your hands. You give good love...

So good, take this heart of mine into your hands. You give good love.

-Whitney Houston

I don't know why I'm in the mood to emotionally cut myself like this. As I type this I'm having a great day and an even better week. Ministry is flowing, connection is happening, things are flowing. Then I realized that I haven't covered "The Voice" of our generation in the blog. Like not at all. I couldn't dare call myself covering Black Love songs and not talk about our dear angel. I have to be honest, this one hurts. The anniversary of Whitney Houston's death was just a few weeks ago and it still bothers me. Unfortunately I know what it's like to use the most unhealthy things to make yourself feel good or make you forget what you've been through. I know how it feels to want real rest or to just get away from it all.

This particular album, to any millenials reading this- yes I said album. This particular one strikes two emotional chords for me. When I was a little girl this was my mom's all-time favorite album. She would play it over and over again as she was prone to do with her favorites. And when she left Georgia and left me to go seek a better financial future she left this album. She told me to keep it for her and it felt so final. I didn't know if she would really be back or not. I knew she loved me so how could she leave me behind. And I knew she loved this album so how could she leave it with me. It cut so deeply. And when I would miss her so much that I could hardly take it, I would sit in the living room and listen to Whitney and cry. I can't remember which I used to listen to more, Saving All My Love For You or You Give Good Love, but they both captured me. I loved the rhythm of You Give Good Love and even at the tender age of of 7 I relished the idea of "never too much" love. Something about that was inextricably linked to my mom. She had so much going on, but I could never get too much love from her. When she wasn't around no one could fill that void. Gifts, sweets, crafts, money, cartoons, grandma, aunt, cousins, none of it made me feel full or whole.

Then somewhere along the way things became different. I didn't think about her as much, at least not pleasant thoughts, and I didn't desire to spend as much time with her. The seeds were sown and I was growing into becoming my own woman and though I wouldn't be able to articulate it for years to come, somewhere deep down I decided that I wouldn't let people make me feel that hurt again. I needed to pull it together. For me that meant being closed off. It was a tough lonely road even when lots of people were around. When the dust settled I had a lingering question, "Why did she leave me?"

I know now that it wasn't malicious or neglectful; she really was doing the best she could with what she had at the time. And so bitterness and resentment have to release their hold on my heart. I may be scarred but I'm no longer wounded. I'm healed and I'm whole. Because the only thing that beats a mother's love is the love of God. It is with that love and because of that love that I am thriving today. I'm not stuck in a dark corner questioning my self-worth anymore. I am worthy of love and I am fully loved by my Father in Heaven as well as some ridiculously dope people here on earth. I might be the luckiest chick in the world. This good love is all mine and it's all I need.


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