Don't Read This Title. Ha, you lose!

There are many things that run through my mind late at night. This particular night, insomnia finds me atop my loft bed, pen and paper in hand, wondering about life and what's to come. I've been told that I have the world before me. This sounded pretty enough when it was spoken, but now I'm beginning to realize the gravity of the statement. A year ago, if anyone had asked me my plans for life those plans would have been shallow enough to put me in rank with the majority of teenage girls. I wouldn't have had to think or worry too much. Now, however, my task seems more challenging. What changed? Simple. One prank Christmas gift.

My older brother always puts off buying Christmas gifts until the last minute. By the time he decided to ask me what I wanted, I was sick of trying to drum up a wishlist, especially a practical one; so I did what I always do when I don't feel like dealing with social protocol--I gave a smart aleck answer. I looked him in the eyes and said, as smoothly as I would manage, "All I want for Christmas is world peace." He smirked like I expected him to, no doubt proud that his little sister was sharp tongued like himself. He aske me again, this time expecting a serious answer. I gave him the same answer. After several minutes of this, he finally marched off to his room with an annoyed expression on his face. I skipped happily to my own room, reveling in my triumph. When I heard him complaining of the incident to my mom, I figured he had gone to her to find out exactly what was on my real Christmas list. I thought I had won. I was wrong.

Christmas Day came in a swirl of wrapping paper, bows, fun-sized candy, and anticipation. After raiding my stocking, I decided to see what my brother had decided to buy me. I picked up the gift with an arrogant grin and ripped it open with every bit as much enthusiasm as a greedy toddler. What I found inside was not at all what I expected. Inside the silver and green wrappings was a rather large book with a picture of our planet on the front. It was simply titled Earth. The grin twitched off my face as I thumbed throught the volume. The pages were covered with different images of Earth taken from outerspace. The pictures were stunning, but I was too confused to notice. I looked up at my brother, a silent question painted clearly on my face. What he said to me, I will never forget: Here's your world. Go make your peace.

The sound of his words vibrated deep inside my ears, penetrating my brain. Here's your world. Go make your peace. It wasn't a suggestion or an implication of my potential. It was an order. He had meant it as a joke, I knew. It was supposed to be a way of slapping that arrogant look off my young face, but somehow it was more. For once in my life, someone had not only told me I had the power to change the world, but also given me a charge to do so. His words were different from those of adults who merely told me the world was at my fingertips. He didn't say I could do what I wanted with my potential. He wasn't ambiguous. He stated the truth, the world is before me, and told me to take action. Suddenly, I realized that I had never really been serious about making a change in the world. Sure, I wanted world peace. I knew it was one of those impossible goals that must, nevertheless, be worked towards unless we want our world to fall apart, but I had never considered my role in this way before. I never imagined that I would ever play a real role on the global scale.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world," Mahatma Gandhi once said. Why had I never listened to him? Finally, I realized that talking about peace and change does absolutely no good. It only makes us feel better about ourselves. The world has no room for selfishness. My future now seems daunting. I should be scared that I won't be able to change lives, but the confidence and simplicity with which my brother stated his order told me that that would not be an issue. Instead, I worry that I won't be able to do enough. I remind myself often that, "slow and steady wins the race," and then I laugh out loud. Here I sit, among bubble-gum pink bed sheets and fuzzy pillows, worrying about how to change the world. It seems silly that someone so young should weigh so heavily on such things, but I've been given an order. Here's your world. Go make your peace.