In anticipation of a new life and being a grandma.
And to our kids-who, so often, live too far away to suit grandmas and grandpas. I ran this by Barb, my editor of 37 years. She made some formatting changes & said to add a picture, both of which I have done. The next 45 days will be momentous. We can?t wait, grandma Karlynn.
We plant our feet and try to stand,
sometimes on rock, but sometimes sand is what we find,
beneath our feet, between our toes.
The rock is stable, safe & true.
But sand can move-it swirls and flows.
Sand can polish, sand can hide-
the smallest crack lets sand inside.
Would you like sand, or is it rock that fits your mood-
we stand on both-we smile, we brood.
There is a secret to the sand.
It?s true it blows across the land,
but it returns, and you will find it nestles in the rock from which it came.
Sand and rock-these are our lives.
Sand and rock and we survive.
So what is grandma, sand or rock?
Grandma says, ?I have been sand, I have been rock.
Where rock is needed there will be none so sure as me.
The little one may nestle in my clefts,
and she, her mom and dad will have whatever I possess that they may need?.
There will be time to swirl and flow.
Time for me, and time for them.
But they will always have a rock,
their mom and grandma, strong and true.
?There is a secret to the sand.
It?s true it blows across the land,
but it returns, and you will find it nestles in the rock from which it came?.
And to our kids-who, so often, live too far away to suit grandmas and grandpas. I ran this by Barb, my editor of 37 years. She made some formatting changes & said to add a picture, both of which I have done. The next 45 days will be momentous. We can?t wait, grandma Karlynn.
We plant our feet and try to stand,
sometimes on rock, but sometimes sand is what we find,
beneath our feet, between our toes.
The rock is stable, safe & true.
But sand can move-it swirls and flows.
Sand can polish, sand can hide-
the smallest crack lets sand inside.
Would you like sand, or is it rock that fits your mood-
we stand on both-we smile, we brood.
There is a secret to the sand.
It?s true it blows across the land,
but it returns, and you will find it nestles in the rock from which it came.
Sand and rock-these are our lives.
Sand and rock and we survive.
So what is grandma, sand or rock?
Grandma says, ?I have been sand, I have been rock.
Where rock is needed there will be none so sure as me.
The little one may nestle in my clefts,
and she, her mom and dad will have whatever I possess that they may need?.
There will be time to swirl and flow.
Time for me, and time for them.
But they will always have a rock,
their mom and grandma, strong and true.
?There is a secret to the sand.
It?s true it blows across the land,
but it returns, and you will find it nestles in the rock from which it came?.
