It's a brand new year.

Yesterday, on my drive home from school,

I picked a cd at random to listen to

(since I have a real fear of overplaying

"The Lizzie McGuire Movie" soundtrack

and coming to hate it).

It was the soundtrack

to a New Year's Eve program

that we watched at church in 2009,

featuring teenagers talking about their lives

and how they were trying to be good

and how they were trying to be Christian.

And there were songs

with lyrics like,

It's a brand new year

and my heart has been opened.

It's a brand new chance

to show where I'm standing.

And I don't want to miss this chance

for a brand new life!

Admittedly,

it's incredibly cheesy.

But when I was 17,

it captured my mind and heart.

I was going (hopefully) to BYU

in a few months.

I was going on a great adventure.

I wanted to be

more than what I was.

I wanted to become

this person

with goals and dreams

who lived up to them--

who made of her life

something rich

and meaningful

and useful

and beautiful.

A picture of me at that time.

Last night,

as I was listening to those songs,

they sent that burning right into my heart.

And it made me cry.

Because of how nice it felt

to feel the light of those dreams

like I was seventeen again.

Because of

how good my life has been,

and how much joy

life has given me

that I never imagined.

Because of all the times

that I didn't make my life

beautiful

and useful

and meaningful

when I could have.

And mostly,

mostly for the me

that felt those idealistic dreams

who is now long dead.

It's sad to have lost her

to someone

who sees that life is unfair,

that people are inconsistent,

that problems never get solved,

who feels grated by people who think

that faith is easy

and questions always have answers.

But it's okay to have lost her

to someone

whose heart is moved

to love others,

who looks for beauty

in the cracks between ugliness,

who wants to let other people

make choices,

and wants to have faith

that burns longest,

not brightest.

Even though that girl dead,

it's still natural somehow

to feel her in my heart,

because she is me.

But it is bittersweet,

as,

it turns out,

all of life is.

All Duh Little Things