As I'm sitting here, staring at a computer screen on the internet (that would've been restricted just a few short months ago for me) my phone lays beside me. The contemporary world's necessity that I was denied access to except on Sundays not very long ago. Nostalgia – that bittersweet affection of my heart and mind – lulls me to a place where I didn't have what's considered important to our technology-crazed generation; I traded that for a moment of peace in a screaming world. I didn't simply have friends; I had a family of 39 other oddball students. We didn't merely have a classroom; we had the world. We didn't learn much about the laws of physics or the glories of the Roman Empire. We learned more than most about the laws of living and loving and the glories of God's Kingdom on Earth.

I could tell you that it was rough to have to be at breakfast by 7:30 to eliminate the risk of a fine, but I could much sooner explain what it means to wake-up at any hour knowing that I'm blessed. I could convince you that it was even worse to wake-up at 5 to make breakfast for 20 people, but that experience would hardly be worth it if I couldn't tell you that love for others turned out to be my motivational alarm clock. Maybe you'd even want to listen to me say that Resident Leaders and other Staff members assessing my God-given gifts and my fleshly weak points was hardly fair. The better part of me would argue that I could hardly find another love so true like this; to encourage my potential, to offer counsel for my shortcomings, and to love me all the while. Those people dedicated their year to us. They lost sleep over us, lost time for us, saw us at our very worst and never lost patience with us, and loved us so very well because they loved Jesus first and foremost. I could only hope to be so meek, gracious, and kind someday.

Was it ever difficult? Absolutely. Was it ever heartbreaking? My heart broke 39 times to be exact. But when it got hard or when we hurt so much, we had this hope: We, as brothers and sisters in Christ, have a good, good, Father who would never forsake us, who traded His own life for ours, and who whispers our name, who we truly are, in a society that exclaims who it thinks we should be but are not. The wonder is this: we heard Him. We found our identity, such a rare phenomenon nowadays. This is why we let go of technology, of dating, of rigorous and stressful education for a year. So we could listen, see, and understand what it means to let go of what's perfectly good in favor of what's eternally best. We traded friendships on a screen for the inexpressible beauty of looking into the eyes of that friend. We traded potentially cheap romances for our sweet love who is everlasting. We traded classes teaching us how to pass tests for classes of worldwide experiences teaching us how to live. To surrender ourselves to something so much bigger. To dive head first into a dance with the One who lives in Forever.

Many, those who cannot imagine living outside of our carefully controlled culture, might say we signed our year away when we agreed to this on paper. Maybe we did. Yet I figure most people willingly GIVE their lives away. Regret doesn't require your signature; only your very last moments on earth. I'd sign that covenant over again and hope I'd keep it a little better this time.

I'm now a little closer to the present than I was before and now realize that I've been staring at this screen for far too long. I need to look into someone's eyes, ditch the emoticons for a true smile, and tune myself in to the here and now with everything I have before it's gone. So I'll close my computer and turn off my phone even though my eyes and mind are protesting. I do this because I know that nothing is better than best.