Like every red-blooded American college student, I resumed my yard duties upon arriving home for the summer. After three months of cutting grass, washing fences and chopping down trees, I couldn’t be more thankful to make the end-of-summer pilgrimage to Searcy. The Front Lawn is my favorite lawn because Bruce McLarty doesn’t wake me up on Saturday mornings saying, “This grass isn’t going to cut itself.”
I distinctly remember the first time I went to Disneyland when I was 6 years old and the feeling of disbelief that a place that magical could even exist.
It’s so unabashedly cheesy, but I experience that same feeling when I come back to Harding after an extended break. You get to see hundreds of your closest friends again — on your hall, in your club, in your classes, after chapel — Harding is full of people who love each other. The whole first week feels like one big family reunion. As someone who went to another college for two years before coming to Harding, I can attest that other schools are not like this.
Before I transferred, I had made my mind up that I was not going to fall in love with Harding. I’d been a little turned off by the over-enthusiasm I was exposed to while visiting, and I didn’t want to convey the same crazed behavior. “It’s just a school, how great could it possibly be?” I remember saying to myself. Just a few weeks after arriving, I was forced to eat my words because I quickly realized my friends hadn’t drank the Kool-Aid: they were simply right.
I have a large picnic blanket that can seat approximately 10 people, and one of my favorite things to do on a sunny afternoon is bring it and all my homework to the Front Lawn and invite my friends and their friends to sit with me as I see them walk by. Without fail, the blanket is full all day long. This is hardly a testament to how many friends I have — popularity is not my spiritual gift by any means — but rather a testament to the friendly environment Harding fosters in everyone’s life.
I’ve heard and harbored my fair share of complaints about Harding — most related to curfew and the caf — but petty disagreements with the institution seem to matter even less when you’re surrounded by all of your friends.
I complained excessively about mowing the lawn this summer: “I can’t do that, I’m an indoor boy,” I would explain to my dad every weekend. Of course, I didn’t actually mind doing it. Griping is just in my nature.
Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do in order to preserve something else you really care about. I had to work in the yard, but I got to spend a summer with my family before I graduate in May. I can’t wear shorts to class, but I still get to be here and worship God with thousands of people every morning.
The title of this was originally “From Home to Harding,” and it was going to be about the transition from summer to the school year. Harding is home, though. If you’re a freshman, transfer student or new faculty member: welcome to the family.
