I've been staring at my computer screen for a lot of minutes. I lost track, actually.
A deep sense of contentment has settled over me.
I can't sleep because I don't want it to go away.
Feeling peace is a miraculous and wonderful experience.
I've seen miracles this week. Miracles in my own life. I've had a new taste of what it feels like to be in a good and growing relationship. I've seen exciting progress in the potential creation of a localization program at BYU. I have felt the love of my family and loved them back. I've met some remarkable people—some formerly online acquaintances, some formerly unknown to me. All have shown kindness and enriched my life. I've successfully solved some tricky problems at work. I got to know my neighbor a little better. I experienced the joy of thoughtful gift giving. I put away my clean laundry (a true miracle).
So much wonder. So much good.
And one miracle supersedes them all.
The miracle of the Holy Ghost.
I've been recognizing God's voice in my life more. I've been finding courage to listen to it. To act.
Life goes up, and it comes down. Yes, troubles come and go. Challenges rise and fade. As I reflect in the quiet darkness, I realize there's always been someone with me. On the peaks of euphoria and in the crevasses of despair. I cannot deny that God lives. He carefully and lovingly watches as I stumble through this life, separated from him presence.
I hope He knows I love him.
I hope He knows how thankful I am to still be alive.
To have this body that works despite the more-than-occasional Reese's Peanut Butter Egg. To smell the odors wafting from my roommate's smoker. To see golden red sun rays ricochet off pristine mountain white. To feel grass.
In comparison, sleep seems superfluous. And yet it is a pleasure. Refreshing, renewing, necessary. Tomorrow I will be tired.