To Do List:

Cure AIDS. 8000 people per day die of AIDS. That means that in 1 month, more people die from AIDS than died in the southeastern tsunami. I can barely function when I consider what that really means. What if I had AIDS? What if I had a disease that no one wants to talk about, let alone be around? What if I was sitting in a hospital bed for months and friends got bored of visiting me and family lost hope in me and I was afraid to touch my fragile sweet tender endlessly beautiful daughter and my 5-year plans turned into fighting just for tomorrow and I stopped loving everything worth loving strictly as a defense and I finally killed God and Goodness and Life and Light and Hope and Hope and Hope? What if hope was the hollow echo of a child's musings? What if I were Eight Thousand People today, April 26, 2006? And Eight Thousand People tomorrow, April 27, 2006? What if I were Twenty-Four Thousand People not looking forward to this weekend? What if the leaves on this tree of life kept falling and falling and falling until winter was the only thing left?

rock-a-bye, baby, in the treetop,
when the wind blows the cradle will rock,
when the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
and down will come everyleaf everyone everything...cradle and all.

Hi

Some General Authority once told a story of how he was called to be a GA. He was called into the President's office and the Prophet asked him 3 simple questions. While this story would be better if I could remember all 3 questions, I can only recall one. That one question was, "Do you keep a daily journal?"

What? Can a journal really be that important? I'm not naive enough to believe that a daily log of life is all that it takes to be an Apostle. I'm sure the Prophet knew enough about this soon-to-be GA that a thorough interview was not necessary. But still, that story has stuck with me for years.

Someone (do you like how vague I am in my memory?) once said that writing is the ultimate medium for humans to communicate. It allows us to speak in the privacy of our own minds, and yet still share our thoughts with others. It is completely nonconfrontational, and yet a well-written anything can get right up in your face.

There are many people who write because of the privacy and intimacy inherent in a pen and paper or a laptop kept under passcode. Sometimes people write just to see what they are thinking. But I think everyone--down to the most awkward and introverted schlep--wants to be heard. Or better put, wants to be read. Or maybe not. But speaking for myself, if I did not want anyone to know what I think, I wouldn't take the time or the risk to make of record of my mindings. I write so that I know what I'm thinking, and so that you might know too.