Many months ago, I walked into an empty dorm room. My heart sank at the white, white walls, the mystery-stained cork board, and the drawers filled to the brim with air. It was hollow, sad, and so very uninviting.

But we built it up. I swept up that small room with all that was "Alanna;" Polaroid pictures hanging by twine, star lights and newspaper notes that greeted me as I walked in, and a little ukulele resting gently in the corner. My roommate, Hannah, dressed her walls with sweet Disney memoirs, kind notes from friends, and paintings created with such delicacy and grace. We found an emptiness and made it whole again, made it home again.

We, Hannah and I, and a whole host of friends, created life. We created ideas, laughter, and joy in the small spaces of a cozy little campus. As King Midas, everything we touched became golden; became special, dizzy, happy, life.

But that's just it. On the last day of my freshman year of college, a friend asked me, "So, what was your favorite memory from this year?" And all my small mind could muster was a blurry watercolor of memories. Varying shades of late night Wawa runs, rainy day coffeehouses, and 2 AM giggles all blended together into one mighty memory. While the past year was a soft brew of every emotion under the sun, it was oh so hard to pick out one day from the other; the river simply ran into the sea.

And at the end, with all the force taken into creating such a room, such a home, such a memory, we stripped it down. I softly took down those newspapered notes, those soft lights, until it became barren again. Now, it could have been just anyone's old, wall-stained room, in Kea 116.

So, how do we go about picking memory from memory? How do we live with a day-to-day might that is able to call out each day by name, to remember, to learn, and to grow from each one?

Dear friends, this is impossible in and of itself, but as spoken of in a past article, we must break what is habitual. We, as the beloved Dr. Cote (a former headmaster of my high school) once lovingly told our class, "Do not have a busy life, have a full life." Work, and work hard. Never cease expanding your mind and its beautiful capacities, but allow time for others. Allow time for coffee shop chats, for 2 AM laughter, and for open, helping hands.

And, take pictures. No, no, put away that phone. Stop burrowing your mind in silly, trivial apps that create a false sense of community, of identity. Get out there, and live. Take one picture a day. That's all you need, truly. Take one picture of something that truly captivates your heart, and your attention. Enjoy everything, from the brilliant and bright concerts, to the dreary days tucked away inside.

Along with this, journal. I know it is so incredibly hard to find time even for yourself when the days are demanding and ever-moving. But even a half an hour before bed, to reflect and remember the day's aches and laughter is a treasure. You do not need to write much, but with each day comes a valuable lesson, and an opportunity to gain a new and fresh perspective. Find something to be grateful for, recall the little moments that made you smile unknowingly, or the times that tugged at your heart. Do not allow these little slivers of wisdom and joy to flee.

Above all, look to what God is telling you. Do not allow the Holy Spirit's voice to become a dull mutter from within. Allow His guidance to enrapture your heart. I know this is hard; I struggle, I do struggle with it, every day. But fight the good fight. We live not for the things of this earth, remember; we live for eternity.

These are the things that I wish I could have done differently. I wish I had called my mother more, I wish I had thanked my professors more, and I wished I had stepped out of my comfort zone more. I wish I had trusted God more, listened to Him above all things. Because now is the time, where all of everything, I feel, is in the palm of my hand, at the cusp of greatness (but you know, this is just wishful thinking from a little human in college).

Seize each day unlike the rest. Give it a name, a voice; give it recognition. Give it to the Father. Wake up each day, living with might, knowing that your heart beats for beautiful purpose.