Sophomore Year. Spring, 2026. I struggle through the thick blanket of snow covering the streets of Boston towards the dorms of Sattler College on Beacon Street. As the two familiar rowhouses come into view, each window on all five stories aglow with golden light and familiar figures moving about, I am suddenly transported back to freshman year, approaching a similar scene but from a very different perspective.

Hesitantly approaching these dorms almost two years ago, I never could have imagined the way my life was about to be forever shaped by these brick buildings and the inhabitants within. One of the first things that intrigued me about the Beacon Street Sattler dorms is their strategic position from a social, academic, and spiritual vantage point. I remember being surprised and intrigued as a history major to hear upperclassmen talk about the student benefits and academically enriching opportunities, all within a walk or short train ride from the dorms. Back Bay, Boston is likely one of the richest areas in American history. The route to school or the grocery store takes you past monuments and markers that free the imagination to wander through this birthplace of the Revolution as if the founding figures of American history were walking alongside.

With Harvard University and MIT in Cambridge just across the Charles River, a long walk, bike ride, or train ride offers a chance to take in free public lectures on any number of topics, tour the Harvard Art Museum, or watch (and maybe even join!) MIT’s sailing club practicing on the river. Not only does the Charles River create a border between the dorms and these universities, but it also has provided the setting for Sattler’s growing running culture to take in a full view of the city skyline as they run. In warm weather, it is a favorite spot for Bostonians to spread a blanket to study or have a picnic. 

As someone who grew up surrounded by the fields and gardens of country life, I still wonder at the way the area around the dorms continues to delight me with its urban greenspace. The Boston Public Garden and Boston Common hold many memories of spontaneous games of ultimate frisbee, soccer, spikeball, volleyball, and softball. Admittedly, the walk to class can take a bit longer for those who feel the irresistible need to capture morning light igniting bright fall leaves or illuminating pale spring blossoms. 

The many churches nearby have expanded and helped establish my own beliefs about the multifaceted nature of the body of Christ and what that looks like in a city context. The cafes have served as places to go for post-church service conversations and study sessions. The mission of God is very much alive in Boston and exploring what that means for the context of my friends’ lives and my own has led to experiences with friends and strangers alike that I thank God for. 

Despite the advantageous position of the dorms, by far the most impactful element of the dorms has not been anything connected to location, but rather to the community that dwells within. One of the most challenging things for me to adjust to when I came to Sattler was the discipleship-based community. Sharing a dorm room with 3-4 people with different cultural backgrounds, systems of organization, and personal habits tends to provide just the right mix of elements to reveal weaknesses and, hopefully, cultivate strengths. There is nothing like attempting to create daily routines that support the physical, mental, and emotional health of everyone involved to accelerate miscommunication and frustration. But there is also nothing quite like Bible journaling together at 6 am, dinnertime theological conversations, Sunday worship evenings, or late night deep conversations to accelerate discipleship and Christian community. Learning to do everyday life—the food prep, the exam cramming, the essay writing, the hundreds of pages of reading—with these people has created a sense of belonging that entirely contradicts my initial skepticism. 

My roommates and fellow inhabitants here at the dorms have wildly disrupted my perception of the world in the best way, and incidentally disrupted my perception of the dorm buildings that I now draw near on this snowy January evening. Instead of seeing old buildings with potential for rodent residents like I may have first seen the dorms as, I now climb the steps with a very human sense of home, wrestled out of shared moments of joy, sadness, and and ordinary Tuesdays all thrown together.