It gets hot sunny days with my niece on my lap. It gets cold autumn nights with Mark pressed beside. It gets Thursdays downtown Holland, boating days at Barlow, quads on the Ponderosa. It gets long walks amongst Pikes Place, trekking in Colorado, tea days in Indy. It gets movie nights at home, craziness in the classroom, community at church. It gets parties with friends and dancing galore. It gets Saturdays sunny, with USC scoring. It gets vacations in Spain and caring in Kenya. It gets morning at my table.
Nothing worth wearing stays packaged from the dry cleaners, or ironed crisp from Grandma. No life worth living stays pressed and crisp and lined and perfect.
A life worth living is wrinkled. It's full of the joy and and exasperation of every day living: It's full of squishy hugs from friends and curling up on couches. It's full of conversations that explode and hearts that implode. It's full of lingering and laughter, pensive and pursuing. It's full of spots and stains, jarring and jaded. It's full of release and rest, bliss and being. It's full of adventure and awe, compassion and character. It's full of all the moments motioned against the fabric that makes it... life.
Life is wrinkled. Wear it well.
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