I cried a lot, but faced the pain like a warrior. I did not run the sadness, I lived! And I learned the value with the pain of being happy. I did not hold in my heart the bad water of remembrance.
There they were always present in everyday life, as the laughter of kids running around the yard. These praying hands holding knitting needles only changed position when holding the crochet hook.
Not being a leader of any kind, I have written a bit about what land means to me as a normal journal entry, rather than as a special 'my story' submission.