It feels wrong to put this here - the impersonality of the internet means it can never hope for even the slightest chance of properly conveying things like this. But I want to put it down here anyways. Just because I feel like I need to.

For those of you who may not know, a man from my home church, Mr. Norman Knibbe, died suddenly and unexpectedly at work yesterday. He was the father of Hester, Marcella, Eric, Suzanne, Elena, and Rhiannon Knibbe, all of whom attended or are still attending HMDCS and TDCH, so I knew many of them quite well. He was also my Uncle Marvin's brother and my cousin Alex, Brent, and Dylan's uncle. When I found out what happened Tuesday night, I was left completely astounded. I had no idea what to say or think. I still don't.

Even though this tragedy is still a few degrees away from me, this is the first time I've really been hit by the mortality of human life. Mr. Knibbe was only 57, just a few years older then my Dad, and he didn't smoke like my Dad does to the best of my knowledge. By all accounts he was a healthy man with nothing to worry about. The fact that God decided to call him home so suddenly and without apparent cause is something that I'm really struggling to understand right now. If it can happen to him, it can happen to anyone - I'm just coming to realize that.

I knew Mr. Knibbe for many years, and although I never really talked to him that much I always thought he was one of the friendliest and nicest people I had ever met. My prayers are with Mrs. Knibbe and their kids right now, as what they are dealing with is something I can't even begin to imagine, as well as with my Uncle Marvin and my cousins and the rest of the Knibbe family. And I know that this is all a part of God's master plan, even though most of us probably can't see where it fits in right now.

28 Days Later...

One thing that I definitely miss about Guelph: I never had my sense of smell violated by the other passengers of the public transit system.

I was sitting on the TTC bus on my way home from class when this small, round guy sits down right next to me. At first his odour wasn't incredibly offensive, just unexpected. But as the trip dragged on it got worse and worse.

I don't really know the words to best describe it, as it seemed to continually change into new terrible scents. At first it reminded me strongly of a McDonalds play place with the many plastic tubes and poor ventilation of thousands of sweaty overweight kids. Then I thought I could smell a trace of gasoline or burning rubber as well. The worst part? The guy who owned the terrible fragrance was a fidgetty bus-rider. So everytime the smell would air out in the bus he would move around and release fresh scents from whatever terrible places they came from his body.

In the end, I would say that was one of the worst things I have ever had to endure. And I've cleaned up unventilated animal pens full of all manner of crap. It goes without saying that I put a few subways cars between me and the chunky guy in the purple sweater and sweatpants...

And if I ever see him trying to sit next to me, I'll get off at the next stop and wait for another bus.