When I graduate from Covenant in May, I will remember many things about my last three years here. I will remember the sunrises and sunsets and how the leaves change to the most vibrant colors in the fall. I will remember walking to 8 a.m.s in the freezing cold and going to the Blink after night classes. I will remember good professors and hard classes and studying literature that has stretched my capacity for empathy. I will remember singing in the chapel, Great Hall coffee and all the fun campus events.
But above all, I will remember my friends. My memories here are marked not even by the biggest moments or the biggest decisions of college, but by the people who have talked and prayed with me for hours, who have spent mundane days laughing and rejoicing with me, and who have stayed up late into the night to share what is on our hearts.
This past year, I have found myself sentimental about the community I will be leaving behind. Now that I am a few weeks into my last semester, I dread the day I will have to say goodbye. It is so easy to take college for granted when you are in the thick of it, when things hurt, and when you are overwhelmed with work. But I find myself treasuring the little moments more—even simple things like getting coffee or studying with my best friends.
I can say confidently that God knew exactly what I needed when He led me to Covenant. He is the Giver of abundantly good and kind gifts, and He has blessed me with a precious community. My friends are not perfect by any means, but they have reflected the heart of God to me more times than I can count. They have both rejoiced and mourned with me and shown me unconditional love.
I am grateful for the gift of friendship for many reasons, but lately, I have been especially thankful for friends who mourn. This school year has been both beautiful and challenging. I have walked alongside friends through difficult things and vice versa. I have had my fair share of late night talks, sad hours and conversations where we question what God could possibly be doing. And there is room for grief. For lament. For doubt. For tears. Sometimes, all we can do is listen well and cry over what sin has broken.
I am thankful for friends who sit with me and stay with me and do not abandon me in the darkest moments. And I have come to realize that is what our Savior does too. I am in awe that we worship a God who condescends to us, who became love incarnate so that He might bear our humanity. We do not serve a distant Creator. Rather, Jesus’ heart is bent in empathy towards His children.
Grief and lament are biblical but so is hope. 1 Thessalonians 4 tells us that we do not grieve in vain. Rather, in the midst of grief, we are to encourage each other with the truth of the resurrection. And while my friends and I have wept together, we have also comforted each other with the ultimate comfort: Jesus is restoring what we weep over because He is making all things new. I am learning what a privilege it is to be surrounded by men and women who remind one another of such things.
These are the days and people we will remember. So, this semester, hold onto your friends a little bit tighter. College is marked by highs and lows and everything in between. Be present and be kind. Rejoice. Laugh. Mourn. Encourage. Make meaningful relationships. Reach out to that guy or girl on your hall, at your work, in your class, or on your sports team. Sit with friends old and new. Listen and love well. And point each other to Jesus.