Today I noticed beauty.

I noticed man-beauty—and Christ-beauty—and the beauty of people in general. The world becomes a different place when you see beauty in everything. I sound like I've been drinking dishwashing liquid, I know.

To explain: At Easter Church, I saw a boy with electric pink hair that shot out in all directions from his scalp, like an anime porcupine—like someone had stuck a statically electrified mop to his head. That's not an insult! It was the coolest thing. But I passed him silently, because I figured he wouldn't talk to me anyway, and also he might've been a girl. It's hard to tell sometimes.

On Monday, I arrived at school early and stood awkwardly in the hallway, waiting for my friend. I pretended to study my math binder in order to look cool. Why math? Because something about logarithmic functions makes a girl look hot from a distance.

After super-hot Jamie got tired of crossing her eyes trying to determine the value of x in relation to the values of ln and e, she happened to look up. And when I looked up, I saw him. The boy with the pink hair.

ZOMGOSH.

He was talking to another girl.

ZOMGUGH.

Do I talk to him? Do I let him talk to me? No, he's with that girl; he's not going to talk to me. That would be awkward. Should I talk to him? Ha. Should I stalk him? No, I've tried that before with other boys. It never works out right. But that last restraining order does expire soon…

I closed my binder and walked away.

Today in science my lab partner turned started talking to the girl behind us. I tried hard not to listen in, but they talked very loudly, almost as if they wanted me to hear, and it would've been rude of me to dishonor their efforts.

"Yeah, Cameron is pretty bad," said my lab partner, after ten minutes of mundane teenager-chat. "He dyed his hair pink."

Whoa. Rewind. Play. He dyed his hair pink. He dyed his hair pink. Was this the boy I'd been following? He had a name? A quick Facebook check later that afternoon revealed that yes, this was the same boy; when I typed his name into the search engine, the second picture was off his shocking pink wonderfulness. Score!

Today as I walked to the bus lot, I passed Cameron. The world slowed into a haze around him as I took him in: His face was pinched, thin and angular; his hair had crinkled into wild waves; his eyes were wide and shining; he wore loose jeans instead of Monday's tight ones; a rosy blush colored his skin; and his stomach stuck out.

It didn't stick out in a fat way. You've seen a baby, how their stomachs are round, without being jiggly or disgusting. It looked as if he hadn't grown out of the baby roundness, and suddenly, that perfect imperfection made him…beautiful.

Beauty. There was beauty in his difference, his imperfection. Suddenly my heart seemed to rise, and I saw the imperfections of those around him—and I thought the same thing. Beautiful! The world snapped out of the haze, and as I glided to the buses I remembered reading once that Jesus dwells within everyone; take the time to notice it in others.

So I did. I looked at the hundreds of teenagers I passed with wide eyes, seeing not just bagd of hormones, but beings that Christ created, Christ loved, and Christ lived in. Beauty! Suddenly beauty lit up in everyone, in everything, in difference, in imperfection. God crafted and loved the whole world. My heart drummed so hard Cameron must have heard it from the other side of the field!

If you look at everything as beautiful, how can you be pessimistic?

How can you not know the loving God behind it?

How can you not thank Him for everything and love everyone like He does?

There's Jesus in everyone, beauty in everything. We just have to notice.