This weekend I learned that I lost the only record I kept of my time as Relief Society president: the calendar with the names of each sister I served every day. In my emotional fog after Daniel left on his mission, I attacked a stack of papers on my desk and tossed them in the recycling, not realizing my calendar must have been among these papers. This is a profound loss to me. I gave up writing in a journal during the years I have served, telling myself that this calendar was to be my record of my time as president. This calendar, God, and I are the only ones who know what I really did during these years, and I have a terrible memory. I have wept on the floor over this loss. Underlying this loss is the fear that what I have done just ascends as smoke and does not matter. But we all know that is nonsense, and in stronger moments than these I will feel better. Acts of love remain, and are never wasted.