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I guess that before I speculated on what Terry's mom might have meant by leaving the journals, I'd want to know a lot more: were they obviously collected over a long period of time or did they seem roughly similar in age (that is, from the past few years)? were the pages, as one commentator asked, crisp and clean or care-worn and aged? what was her mother like? Terry said that her mother was "a very private person," a very telling statement. But did she feel like she knew her mother well or was she looking forward to this revelation into her mother's inner life? How did her mother relate to her career as a writer, speaker, visionary? for me, with my training, albeit novice, in mental health, the revelation was shocking, even disturbing. Three shelves is a lot of journals. And that they were all perfectly blank says something more than good intentions to write never fulfilled. I did think about invisible ink. But in the end, Terry is the one among us who knew her mother best, and her thoughts have run to the question of voice. What is it to have a voice? Which is louder: thousands of words or silence? Can a Mormon woman of her mother's generation ever possibly hope to speak her truth except with this one act of stunning silence? And what does one's interpretation of such an act (particularly Terry's in this case) say about one's voice? For isn't a reframe an exercise of voice? And hasn't that been what Terry has done so beautifully for years: to take the broken pieces and place them into shining whole by which we are all made whole. I'm very interested in where she goes with this.