Life is one charming rouse for us lucky few.

On Thursday afternoon Bond and I spontaneously had a picnic of banana pancakes and coffee in the courtyard of Olds. Every time a jet went by, cutting a trail across the perfect blue skies, we both started laughing. The beauty of it surprised us. That afternoon it was the same. I watched the ripples of water on the pond and started laughing. Yesterday morning I stepped outside, looked left at the sun rising over the IM fields and started laughing. Everything is glinting and sparkling and glowing and in motion. Even the planet that we're standing on is spinning, twirling in a lilting way through the universe. Even right this moment, on the floor in my messy wreck of a room drinking lukewarm coffee with cold feet looking out at white skies with Shannon and Wesley both sleeping on the beds. (side note: I don't know why, but people frequently show up at my door and ask if they can take naps in my room, and considering how strangely uncomfortable and self-conscious human beings are about falling asleep in the presence of others, I'm hoping that this trend is a good indication of my character. Or perhaps just a quirk. But in truth, odd as it sounds: I have always wanted to be the welcoming kind of person around whom people feel safe falling asleep.) Just think about the complexities and harmonies of human voices! Just the thought makes me laugh in surprise. This weekend I heard the testimonies and asked for the stories of a lot of girls on campus that I don't get to talk to on a regular basis. I wondered how many other stories, how many other souls I have overlooked. It reminds me of that Willa Cather quote: "Sometimes a neighbor whom we have disliked a lifetime for his arrogance and conceit lets fall a single commonplace remark that shows us another side, another man, really; a man uncertain, and puzzled, and in the dark like ourselves." The world is covered in people in a hundred different shades of pride and self-expression and ambition and conviction. More Willa Cather: "The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own." My floor is covered in paper and magazine clippings and pictures in a hundred different shades of color. I'm exhausted and haven't showered, yet life never ceases to be beautiful. Things are slipping into and out of place in perfect chaotic order, and every moment of this day has been written into it for all of infinity. Psalm 77 has been on my heart all weekend: "You are the God who works wonders." I heard frogs this week, and flew kites, and made art, and wrote papers, and scribbled in margins, and walked barefoot, and ran through mud, and watched stars come out one by one, and peeled oranges. God worked these things into existence and inwrote beauty and wonder in them. Therefore I never want to take for granted the way you laugh in surprise, the way your hands move, the way the sun feels on my face the second it comes out from behind a cloud. I never want to take for granted color and words and the underlying love and admiration that I can see in your face when you look at me sleepily. I never want to take for granted the relief in your voice when you say hello to me. I never want to take for granted the self-forgetting passion that rises in the voices of my professors when they start ranting on the importance of a single sentence. Grace has taught me to laugh in surprise. I hope to heaven that I don't miss another second of this life. "My hair smells of the wind and I move about this earth with a healthy disbelief." God works wonders.