nehnyzwavaelle

Truth out of stock.

2008-12-09T16:48:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago I was searching for a christmas card for my grandma at the grocery store. The stand which looked a kilometre long, was on one side red coloured. There were hundreds and hundreds of christmas cards displayed.

There were cards for children, from children, funny ones, cheesy ones with pets, ones for aunts and uncles, sons and daugthters, for loved ones, for neighbours, ones for sick people, ones with sounds, glittery ones, shiny ones, very very many cards.

As my eyes scanned the different cards I started to come to the sad realization that none of the cards had any association with the birth of Jesus. I became slightly worried, and looked around me to see if any one else was noticing this. But they didnt, people kept buying their cat food and paper towel without a care in the world.

On sunday I got to tell children from downtown Hamilton about the birth of Jesus. First they assured me they had already heard this story before. Another boy told me he had seen this story in a cartoon on tv. After the story was done we briefly talked about thinking about Jesus with Christmas. One boy told me 75 percent of his heart is for Jesus, and [only] 25 percent for the presents.

When I asked the kids if there were any prayer requests a boy put his finger up and said "Yesh can you pray for Jesus, that he may have a nice birthday?"

Yes, yes we can pray that. And we will celebrate, the thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.

Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world - stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death - and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love? Then you can keep Christmas. - Henry Van Dyke

no shirt no service.

2008-09-15T20:27:00.000-07:00

The aged couple is now the woman alone. The bench no longer carries two but one. Steve the Polish man from the last post is nowhere to be seen. Sometimes she still sits outside. I'm not certain whether he is ill inside or dead.

She would bring him ice cream. I thought that was nice. She cared for him. He was there for her. Conversations seemed scarce, but all he needed was her with him. And all she needed was his wrinkled hand beside hers. They just sat and watched the world go by.

This makes me feel foolish. Thinking of the times they saw me run to my vehicle, dropping my keys, late for something very important once again, awkwardly waving at them, coffee spilling in my other hand. And they loved, while I was saving the world one meeting at a time.

My greatest friend died two years ago. After his casket was put in the dirt, our feet carried us to other places while our hearts threw out the anchors persistent to never move again. A young man came to me telling me the friendship he had seen was unique and a story like in a movie or a book. I thought that was a beautiful thing to tell me. Time passed and God chucked the anchor back on board splitting the rotting wood of my heart. He heals it. His Love hang on wood dying because he wanted my heart and wants yours.

____________________________________________________________________

Words are a prison when I try to tell you the beauty of my other greatest friend.

the sun in the evening

2008-06-05T09:29:00.000-07:00

Little busy bees we are. But for now everything is an adventure. Soon we will have picnics in the park and bring the yellow thermos. The city has smells and colours and flavours just like all its people [the people are the city]. He made his people different, if I had not met you I would have forgotten that. You are beautiful and I will love you. And you, you will love me as well.

Don't think I don't see you. Fragile women in the alley. Longing for crack and nothing else. I would like to sit with you and whisper the words of Him.

I am sorry, I am so sorry. I'm frightened for you, for me and for it being too late.

The aged couple sits on the porch all day. You make me smile, and believe in something like love. We wave, we share the street. You came to speak to me. But I could not understand your language. I must admit it sounded lovely. After twelve attempts of pronouncing my name, we settled for Miche. You are Steve and my name should've been that easy.

p.s. if you come across someone who pretends to be a mieke like me, it could possibly be because a friend knocked over a basket with my bank statements down the fire escape.

2008-05-07T09:34:00.000-07:00

I work with a really friendly man. He is around sixty years old I think. We don't talk often. For some reasons he doesn't want to talk to people much. He'll tell you about the weather or how crappy the leafs are, but there it stops. Recently I have found something to talk to him about: his cat. Be aware that if you pick a subject to talk to someone about for a long time, you might not want to pick cats.

2008-04-30T09:50:00.000-07:00

what are you doing still sitting there?

Gas is down 0.03 cents.

quik run. fill up your jerrycan.

2008-04-21T11:44:00.000-07:00

We went to Frank's house for supper on sunday. I offered to bring food instead of always eating his food. I became ambitious and made pancakes late saturday night. Not just pancakes but ones with cheese and apple and bananas. The kitchen was a mess, dough splatters covered me and the walls. I tested some on my dog. He lived, and kept me company the rest of the night in the smokey kitchen. Next was my little brother, he also survived. I figured it was safe to bring these cakes made in a pan.

So we ate at the friends house. Kraft dinner as appetizer. Frank's roommate wanted to eat some really badly. Luckily we had some left. After a few bites he commented on how he had never had fish pancakes. My heart was somewhat broken.

After this ridiculous statement we soon got distracted by matches. We had a nice warm fire at the supper table. Oh and none of the sticky candle stuck to the ceiling when we threw it, and it never fell on a roommate's plate. And he absolutely never ate it.

Eighteen sixty four.

2008-04-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

We received a package in the mail from the united states of america. Sent in an envelope marked first class with red ink. In the package I found a small brown book wrapped in wrinkley plastic. It is a little book on free gymnastic and dumb-bell exercises. It reads: "To those who have seen the wan cheeks, stooping shoulder, and sunken chest of the school-childeren of to-day, no argument, proving the necessity of physical culture, need be made." The fragile little brown book which was white once upon a time has that old familiar smell. I know this package was not meant for me. I have tried to find the sender, but have failed so far. So dear sir or madam who has lost their little book, I have found your treasure. I hope it wont upset you to know that I flipped trough the pages, rather carefully. And have smiled at the old drawings and innocent instructions for young ones to move limbs. Your little book from eighteen sixty four has made my rather boring day an extraordinary one.

2008-03-26T09:51:00.001-07:00

The girl likes walking the streets at night. Especially when every person seems to have vanished. But sometimes for a second she looks around her and wonders if God came and she missed it by accident. And now she is here alone in the rain with a dog. Maybe the music coming from her headphones was too loud, or perhaps she was too deep in thought. Most likely thinking about herself too much. She reminds herself she won't miss Gods return, she will be shaking in her chuck taylors. Her dog would bark without stopping. For now the dog seems to be just concerned about making snow yellow. And for a moment it looks likes she is shaking her head at the girl's silly dance moves and singing in an empty street.

words of much wisdom

2008-03-25T09:32:00.001-07:00

"Dan's guitar case looks so cozy and nice, I wish I could curl up and sleep in it" A.K.

"You know what mieke, grace is so big and it's just like.. grace is love and love is grace" F.R.

"It's not like nudists just walk around, the worst thing is they play volleyball" Anonymous

"Take that lumps!" M.Z.

"You are green, i am orange, she is blue. Doesnt matter, we all have pink hearts" K.S.&M.Z.

2008-03-12T09:40:00.000-07:00

When I was young my parents would take us to Switzerland to play in the mountains. The drive was quite long. Some of my favorite memories were gained. I never wanted to leave. But once we were on the road I longed to be home again. The language you couldn't understand and the food that tasted so different made you realize you were not there.

As we drove into our neighbourhood there was this feeling. Although you were somewhat sleeping, you felt you were close to home. There was a certain silence in the car. The car slowed down. And you just knew this was a different slowing down than stopping for a red light. It was so good to be almost home.

Some feelings you wish you could put in a jar and keep under your bed so you can open the lit and let it jump in your heart. I long to be home with God. And I wish I could have a constant feeling that we're slowing down, because we are.

2008-02-10T09:00:00.000-08:00

what is it about naps? they usually happen to me on accident, and when ever i wake up from one i have a scared feeling that i slept through the end of the world.

2008-01-18T20:37:00.000-08:00

People have never received lovely written letters with big fancy words to prepare for trials. They come when you least expect it. Trials are not a scraped knee or lost pet. They turn your world upside down. Trials are not a one day deal.

New life has begun for my new beautiful cousin. Her cry is the unmistaken evidence of life. Droppies still taste salty on my tongue. And the friends I have are the most amazing people walking around on this earth.

Trials are never taken alone. Never come without hope and the words you mumble are never unheard.

Blessed be Your name.

He came.

2007-12-19T09:24:00.000-08:00

And there is Light as the grooves of his face fill with salty tears, holding the picture of the woman he loved deeply for so long. His hand shaking. A sobbing sound.

The Light falls on the flag she is holding so tightly as if she could hug him. Lost in war. A medal. An empty choking feeling.

Light shines as the dark eyed girl opens the curtain. Her body weak and small. Ignored by the beasts of the night. She closes her eyes a tear escapes.

Light seeps through as the chemo races through her body killing what is bad and sometimes good. Her eyes heavy and dark. The worst is yet to come.

The Light beams as they carry his little white casket. As the sound of the cold hard soil coming down on the wood reaches their ears, they hold hands tightly. Numbness. It was not supossed to be.

Light comes from under his door. Another day he has failed. His hand pulls up his sleeve. The skin sensitive and scarred. He walks to the bathroom. The relieve is only short, the hurt so deep.

The Light is outside where she walks. Kids play. Her hart pounding, hands sweating. Will they leave her alone today? Her name gets called. Her heart heavy, she turns around. They laugh.

Light appears as his wife opens the door. Her eyes hopefull and curious. He shakes his head. Lay offs. His little girl wraps her arm around him. Guilt and despair.

He came the Light. Hope for a broken people. Jesus was born. Freeing us from misery and hurt, guilt and filthy sin. The contrast so big. The grace too great to understand.
Thank you God for sending us your son, so we may live in the Light.

2007-11-08T09:26:00.000-08:00

The other day I realised there is no reason to feel restricted. With this I mean that people hang on to their traditions and ways of doing things too much. I came to think about it when I was talking about art. There is a certain freedom when making art. Or at least there should be. It makes me feel good, I can't explain.

It's a piece of you. It migth make you feel a certain way. It may remind you of something. You picked the colors. Or maybe no colour at all.

I just wonder why people restrict themselves so much. Including me. Why do we all need the same houses. The same hobbies. The same curtains. The same wintercoat?

Bobbleheads

They dont think for themselves. They just nod.

I think the same things happen often when we follow God. Instead of following Him, you start following others around you. People often are intimidated and scared of faith because they think it will make them into a bobblehead. And I am scared of that too sometimes. But just imagine that God loves you the way you are.

Maybe you'll quit school. Maybe you pray different. Maybe you talk to Him all day. Maybe you dont want to get married young. Maybe you raise your hands when praising Him. Maybe you like baking cookies. Maybe you drive a purple car. Maybe you want to scream. Maybe you like paperclips. Maybe you wear pyamas with little bears. Maybe you like your hair green. Maybe you hate sports. Maybe you dont like praying in a circle. Maybe youre not good with kids. Maybe you like to sit at home on friday nights. Maybe you like dancing for God. Maybe you like cherry pie but not the cherries. Maybe you want to wear clown costumes on your wedding day. Maybe you sing to God in the rain. Maybe you dont always agree.

There is no limit on how great God is. There is no limit in how you praise him.

God is greater than traditions, God is bigger than life.

2007-07-05T21:22:00.000-07:00

fis

2007-06-26T09:57:00.000-07:00

scott got me a fish.

it's a samurai ninja fighting killer fish or something.

he's red. his name is fis.

what do you know.

2007-06-26T09:42:00.000-07:00

I use to try to remember to pray and live close to God when things are going alright.

But it's not about not forgetting to need God. Its about realizing that you need God all the time.

Every inch of me, every situation, all my thought and words and my actions need God.

I am in dire need of God all the time.

new

2007-05-25T09:30:00.000-07:00

its a new day. its a new blog. and im feeling good.

im planning on mainly posting pictures on here. so now and then some words.

please share with me your craziest thoughts. critisism. kind suggestions and stuff.