The beginning of my college career was a rather hard one. As I packed my car for the adventures that lie ahead, I was expectant of what the future would hold. I dreamed of late nights and long weekends; of great relationships, and of academic success. I dreamt of the ability to balance my social life and school life with the grace afforded to me in high school. I dreamt of the perfect college experience; of a purely joyful four years. However, as I arrived at school, moved into my dorm, and began my life as a college student, I learned quickly that my dreams were vastly different from the reality that lies ahead.

As I spent the first couple of weeks in my dorm, I began to realize the pressing reality of loneliness and the daunting distance of the 16-hour drive between me and my childhood home. I experienced the realities of isolation and the struggles of solitude amidst a sea of people. I longed for a relationship, but sat in the depression of a life of loneliness. It's not that I didn't want friends; that's actually the only thing I wanted. But the weight and busyness of school loaded my shoulders with a weight that I could barely lift. I was bombarded by the demands of academics, finances, and personal health so much so that my social life suffered.

The reality that I struggled with was the expectation of community to form around me. I assumed that relationships would be easy, as they had been in high school, and that friends would show up at my door, never to leave. I was oblivious to the idea that I had an effort in the friendships I expected.

And this reality sunk me, as I think it does for many freshmen students, for quite a while.

I was sad, I was angry, and I was disappointed that I did not have an abundance of friends constantly at my door waiting to spend time with me. And so, almost in spite, I chose to live my life of solitude.

I still tried to have friends, but not very hard. I went to campus clubs, had conversations, and went to events in and around town. I was seen and I was heard, but I was not known. I was bitter and sad, and my angry depression grew a sense of self-righteousness in my mind that I was not even aware was there until years later. I had the mindset that if people wanted to be my friend, then they should put in the effort. Not me.

And as you're reading this, I imagine you are seeing the absurdity in my thoughts surrounding the unrealistic expectation I had placed on those around me.

How can anyone ever be my friend if I never put in the effort to be theirs? I know, it's a wild thought. But I bet you've had it too.

I bet you have sat in a hole of self-pitied expectation of a community that is not there. Especially if you're a college freshman or recent grad.

You have probably wondered why your phone is not blowing up with texts and calls from eager friends longing for your company, or why those people you met just the other day on campus haven't emailed or face booked, or snap chatted you yet. You have probably wondered why no one has reached out. And I bet it has stirred up a sense of sadness, or anger, or disappointment.

Because come on, you were there, you were present, you were excited and attractive and funny, and you made sure that you talked to someone long enough to make sure they remembered you. So why hasn't anyone reached out?

And this is a thought I struggled with a lot in my first year of college. Why is no one pursuing me?

Throughout my years in college I have come to understand what I believe a true community is, and how, so often, as college students, we long for it and pursue it in all the wrong ways.

We all long for community, especially in the unknown and unexpected of college. That is for sure. We long for someone to laugh with, and adventure with, and someone to cry with and face the struggles of life with. We long for friends to study with and adventure with, and for those friends who know us inside and out. We long for a friend who shows up at our door in the middle of the night to comfort us and console us and make us feel as though everything is alright when the weight of life is too much. We long for those friends who know our passions and desires and longings, and do everything they can to make those a reality for us. We long for life-long friends, and friends who make us feel like the world. For friends who fill the role of family when our family is so far away.

Each of us long for someone, anyone to lean on and cry on and to carry us when the weight of life, school, finances and personal well-being are too much to manage.

But let me ask you a question: How often do you long to be that, for someone else?

So often our pursuit of community is entirely selfish. We look for someone to fill our needs without thought of returning the favor. We look for support in our times of weakness only to move on without looking back. We search for people to come around us and support us and carry us, without ever making ourselves known. And this is our downfall in the pursuit of community.

A community is something to be marveled at; a group of friends ready to face the battles of life together. But so often it is less than expected.

So often we are left with what feels like shallow friends and empty support. We feel alone amidst a campus or city or town full of people, and we sit in our self-pity because it feels justified; we expect everyone else to come to us.

A good friend once told me something about children and families and the mindset of becoming a parent that I think is very applicable to this situation.

We were talking about kids and the idea of having kids and how neither of us could ever imagine that day (neither of us are married, so it was a far-off thought). I talked to him and I told him that I could not see myself having kids for quite a while; years down the road...maybe. I told him that the thought of taking care of a child seemed too burdensome to me to handle anytime soon and that I could not imagine the responsibilities that come with a child. After a while of silence my friend spoke up in response, and what he said shocked me. He looked me in the eye and said, "You know, I think we'll both be truly ready to have kids when our thoughts become more centered on the worry of us messing up their lives, than them messing up ours."

And this is so applicable to the thought of community.

A community is designed to carry you when you need to be carried; to be your strength when you have none. A community is designed to support you and celebrate you; to make you feel welcome, and to make you feel worthy. A community is designed to make life a little bit easier and overall better, even in the rough parts. It is your life-source and your sustenance; your comfort and your stronghold.

But what you must know before you can experience community, is that you are exactly what you desire in a community, for someone else. You are the support you desire from your community for someone else in that community.

Because a community is a body. One person makes up this part, one person makes up that part. And the idea of the body is that no one part can simply consume, and no one part can only give. Together the parts of the body complement one another and accent one another. They work together to make each other whole. Each piece functioning for the good of the body. And no body is complete without all of its parts.

As a recent college grad, the biggest piece of advice I can give to you college freshmen for the journey that is the next four years, is invest in community. Give of your time, your money and your support to those you love. Chase hard, pursue hard, and love well those you long to be in community with.

Discover which part of the body you are, and learn your strengths. But don't hold them to yourself. Because there is a body out there that is missing a vital part to its ability to thrive in the sea of society. And that part is you.