Somehow I am in my last semester and I’ve been bombarded with the questions of “how does it feel,” “what are your plans” “where are you going to live?” Let’s just say that though I do recite my well-rehearsed answers, it is difficult to face these facts without getting sentimental and sappy.
Harding was a home to me long before my first day of freshman year. My family has many ties to the university; my grandparents served as dorm parents, my parents met at Chorus camp and my dad works here. If you see a guy with glasses sitting at the sound booth during chapel or arranging your music for Spring Sing, give him a smile and a pat on the back.
Needless to say, my life is pretty absorbed in this establishment, and it is suddenly occurring to me that it may not be my home for much longer. Though I do plan to stay for graduate school, the entire environment of Harding will change for me. The process has already begun as I walk from class to class and barely recognize anyone. It’s a strange feeling and yet an exciting one, knowing that all these fellow students behind me are soon to experience the greatness that Harding holds.
I now walk across the front lawn and reminisce on past jousts, Uplift inflatable games, formal photos, back to school bashes and lighting ceremonies. Each building holds a different story for me and memories that I laugh and cry about, simultaneously. It’s surreal to have come this far in what seems like such little time, but it is both freeing and frightening.
I watch my underclassmen friends slave over their studies, and I appreciate how hard I worked during my past few semesters, and I would love to have an ounce of that motivation during this one. I am thankful to have the hard classes behind me, but now the serious, senior requirements remain unfinished and overwhelming.
The greatest blessing I can contribute to Harding through all of the long hours of homework and the countless cups of joe at Midnight Oil is the discovery of a truth that I’ve been reminded of my entire life. My sweet dad is a man of few words, but a few that he consistently shared were, “Know who you are and whose you are.” I used to brush the phrase aside, give him a kiss on the cheek and head out the door. As my years at Harding have increased, this saying has become concrete evidence of my life.
Harding has provided me with an abundance of opportunities that have brought me to know myself and know my greater purpose in life. The past four years have presented me with humility, maturity, honesty and integrity in my actions, speech and endeavors. My worldview has been broadened and my eyes have been opened to who holds me and my future.
Harding has shaped the heart of Hannah and for that I am forever grateful.
