The last time I was a senior with a somewhat uncertain future, tears determined my biggest decision.

From the time I received early acceptance to Hillsdale College in January 2011 until I received the coveted big envelope from Notre Dame in late March, I was mostly certain that I would be a Hillsdale Charger.  When I opened the acceptance letter from Notre Dame, the tears started, and it was not long before my deposit was in the mail.

It has only been in the past few semesters that I have entertained thoughts about how differently my collegiate experience would have unfolded with Hillsdale—a fantastic school—as the setting.  Becoming so involved with the Rover and thinking almost constantly about the direction in which Our Lady’s University is heading has led me to ask “what if?” more than I care to admit.  With graduation on the horizon, however, I can say with certainty that my acceptance letter tears were the first sign that this was my home.

This school year has been at once the most draining and the most exhilarating.  I have undertaken my most rewarding academic pursuits, forged some of my strongest relationships, and fallen more deeply in love with the faith.  All the while, the university has consistently disappointed me with choices about matters of both great and little consequence; before the semester even started, Campus Crossroads and the new print system were already trying my patience.

Losing hope for Notre Dame with each irresponsible administrative decision becomes an easy inclination.  Some of it is certainly warranted—in the public sphere, Our Lady’s University continues rapidly to lose credibility as a Catholic institution.  Such decisions as extending marriage benefits to same-sex couples, complying with the HHS mandate in spite of the university’s lawsuit, and the question of theology in the core curriculum review are but a few of this year’s myriad reasons to doubt Notre Dame’s commitment to Catholicity.

Long-time Rover readers will surely have older additions to the growing list of the university’s self-destructive choices, among them, closing the Fund to Protect Human Life, the Vagina Monologues, and inviting President Obama in 2009 to speak at commencement and receive an honorary degree.

With every major press release from the ND PR machine, conditions seem a little dimmer.

Yet scattered about campus are incredible points of light that not even the most distressing of decisions can eclipse.

As followers of Christ, we are called to a life of hope.  Never has this been more apparent than in my time here.  Every time Notre Dame’s future looks bleak beyond redemption, something happens that reassures me that this place is worth fighting to preserve.  From atop the Dome, Our Lady reflects more sunlight than any amount of construction barricades or red tape can obscure.

We can throw around statistics about the number of Masses celebrated weekly, the number of books in the library, or the number of students attending the March for Life in an attempt to try and capture what Notre Dame does best.  Although earnest and undoubtedly important efforts, I am reminded of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry when he writes in The Little Prince, “[F]igures are a matter of indifference.”

Consider instead some of the university’s hidden gems, many of which are newsworthy, but receive nowhere near the attention they deserve.  Rare Books and Special Collections recently launched a major digital project honoring Russian Catholic martyrs.  Notre Dame is the world’s epicenter for Dante Studies, and has attracted countless incredible scholars and students to study the Italian poet.  Student clubs like SCOP, Right to Life, and the Identity Project of Notre Dame work tirelessly to support the development of students as faithful men and women, and the betterment of the community.

Of course, the brightest points of light on our campus are those who radiate the light of Christ.  My senior classes have been nothing short of soul-nourishing.  I have learned as much about how to be a good and faithful person as I have about the texts listed on the syllabus.  In the classroom, professors have imparted such wisdom as, “What you touch every day should remind you of God,” “If we let it, everything can speak to us,” and, “When contemplative life starts, it is very hard to turn back.”

Spending time with professors and peers who are so in-tune with the universe (and even those who are not) has provided innumerable moments of grace.  I have spent countless hours in conversation on Library Quad, in Starbucks, in dorm chapels, and in office hours, talking about everything and nothing, always under the guidance of the Spirit, and always walking away with a greater sense of how Christ works in and through people.

I cherish these moments as high points in both my Notre Dame experience and in my faith journey more broadly.

There is so much more good happening on these hallowed grounds than we will ever know.  The problem is that these beacons of light—often scattered and contained in the walls of classroom and office buildings—do not pack the sensational punch of a news story about a controversy.  This is not to suggest that we should ignore or downplay any events or decisions undermining Notre Dame’s Catholic mission; on the contrary, we ought to give them due attention and demand accountability from involved parties.

In an episode of Doctor Who, the Eleventh Doctor says, “The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things.  The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”

Instead of allowing the darkness to consume us, we ought to give more attention and praise to that which Notre Dame does well.  What is worth preserving and building upon at Our Lady’s University is not so easily captured in words or statistics, but the orthodox undercurrent on campus bears powerful witness in ways both great and small.

John Green writes in his novel Looking for Alaska, “We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken.”  As long as there are people here who care about the Catholic mission and identity that make this place so special, Notre Dame is not beyond redemption.

Attending Our Lady’s University has been one of the greatest gifts of my life, and I will never be able to thank my parents enough for my education.  I have witnessed amazing things during my time as a student, and grown in ways I did not even think possible.

My tenure as Editor-in-Chief began with thanks, and now it ends with thanks.

Without our tireless board of directors, faculty advisors, and editorial staff—especially Tim Bradley and Alexandra DeSanctis—this year would not have been possible.  I trust the Rover will continue to grow and flourish under Bradley’s leadership in the coming school year.

I am also indebted to the many incredible professors whose friendship and guidance has been invaluable to my formation as a student and a Catholic: Kathleen Cummings; Patrick Deneen; Laura Hollis; Semion Lyandres; Father Bill Miscamble, CSC; Christian Moevs; Vittorio Montemaggi; David O’Connor; and David Solomon.

Finally, dear Rover readers, thank you for all of the support and prayers over the past year.

I look towards Notre Dame’s future with hesitation, but also sincere hope for better and more conscientious decisions from her leadership than we have seen this year and in the past.  It will continue to be an uphill battle, but the fight for Notre Dame’s soul is not yet lost.  There is much to recover, but also much to celebrate.  We must remember what drew us in and what keeps us here, and continue to build upon it.

As we look outward towards the lights in Notre Dame’s darkness, let us also grow in our capacity to reflect and radiate that same light of Christ.

Lilia Draime is a senior history major with minors in constitutional studies and philosophy, religion, and literature.  She’s a Midwest shooting star who finds traces of miracles everywhere.  Contact her at ldraime@nd.edu.