Mom, people always told me that I was just like you. Even back in grade school. And I wanted so badly to be an individual that I didn’t realize what a compliment that was.

Only now, as I am finally leaving Creighton, am I beginning to understand.

I swore to myself that I wouldn’t go to Creighton. You teach here, dad went here for undergrad and law school, and I wanted to go off and have my own adventures.

Within days of moving to a different school my freshman year, I got homesick. After freshman year, I came back to Omaha and enrolled at Creighton. I started eating lunch with you during the week, meeting students and making friends through you. Everyone on campus knew that I was your daughter, and slowly but surely I wore it as a badge of honor.

“I am Barb Harris’ daughter,” I thought. “No one else on campus can say that.” Instead of feeling confined by the title, I now know that is what sets me apart.

Now I am leaving campus and I am starting to fully realize what a blessing it has been that I have been your daughter, student and friend these three years.

I guess I didn’t have that “typical” college experience you and dad were hoping for. I mean, not every student gets to nap on her mom’s couch in between classes or grab a coffee or get hounded about homework in between the nap and coffee. I am graduating in a few weeks a completely different person than when I was a freshman.

You taught me to always be open to the Spirit every day. You showed me that God’s grace shines through every little blessing throughout the day.

My years at Creighton are better because you have been the biggest part of them, and I have learned to be more myself by becoming so much like you.

I have been able to become a teacher in my own right. As editor of the paper, I can teach people what I know and love about journalism. Your passion for social work you passed down to me manifests itself in my passion for writing.

After I leave and start life in the “real world,” I will still keep your lessons with me.

I will take time to breathe, as you taught me in yoga. I will take time to calm my mind. I will try to really listen to people instead of just waiting for my time to talk. I will spend less time complaining and more time coming up with solutions. I will live in the moment, and I will try to live in awe of the world around me.

Every time I meet someone who knows you – and I have now come to the realization that you know everyone – I will introduce myself as Barb Harris’ daughter. And when they say I am exactly like you, as they inevitably always do, I will smile and think, “I hope so.”