Allow me to advise you...

Perhaps you're new to dorm advising. Let me recount some of my first impressions and beyond.

I recall sitting in the office during my first few dorm shifts, thinking about how useless I felt. I could not stem the tide of in and out. I could not tell where each person was at all times, let alone assure myself they were making good choices at all.

I eventually found comfort in comparing myself to a father reading the paper in the den. He may be quiet and seem superfluous. But without him home, all hell might (and very likely will) break loose.

So, as you are new to the position, be sure to bring a crossword, or a book of poetry. But choose short poetry, preferably, for you are developing your filter. You are understanding which noises matter, and which do not: the difference between a death squeal, and a stinkbug squeal (remarkably similar); the difference between a peaceful silence, and a sullen silence; the difference between a pool cue pounding the floor, and a human head hitting the floor.

On the long shifts of the weekend, you just maintain your position, if you can do nothing else. Perhaps the trash needs to be taken out, or the office dusted, or the windows cleaned, or the fridge organized. Yes, perhaps. But there are times when those possibilities will seem out of the question, and as an alternative, you will find yourself sitting mute at the desk, mechanically playing Words with Friends (and maybe even losing...), occasionally adding another sticky note to the desk. Go ahead, leave those items til Monday. You'll do it by mid-week if it's still bothering you. Of course you will, for there will in fact be times when you are thoroughly rested, showered, fed, and exercised: the students will appear to be more what they are to Jesus. They are not merely trials sent from the enemy to irk and bewilder. You will then feel that treating them as precious children in your care is the truly logical option.

Loving the students will feel different all day long, depending on the status of your mind and body. You will continually reset your expectations, until finally the digital clock reads 10:00, and you cut the internet. Perhaps then, love will look its hardest: their curfew is not your curfew. Keep going. Force yourself to check the cleaning, listen about the mean teacher, sympathize with how girls/boys are such confusing creatures, take their side, and then depart in as much peace as you can find, there at the bottom of the barrel. It'll be enough. Of course it will, for you'll go back to your room, ignoring the dishes and the grading, and you'll hit the Shawn McDonald station on Pandora, and pray that God would keep each one of those young people.

Keep them, Oh God.