Ode To A Grandchild

Where do babies come from?
A magical, mystical place.
Wherever it is, they're a job for their parents,
But a joy to the human race.
Doctors say they are zygotes and such,
The joining of an egg and a sperm.
Some people think they come from tequila.
After drinking it and eating the worm.
But I think they come from the throneroom of God.
From a special place somewhere in Heaven.
HE sends them down to show us His love.
As well as the grace HE has given.
For God loves the children HE freely gives,
Like a blessing that is poured out like rain.
And I pity the fool who wastes or destroys,
Or causes a child to have pain.

My wife and I will experience soon,
The joy that a grandchild brings.
We, with the other grandparents, I'm sure,
Will give our grandchild many things.
Not only just things, but some of ourselves.
To help them as they go along.
Knowing we won't always be there for them.
But hoping they'll always be strong.
Men or women of faith, and character too.
Who cling to the truths they are taught.
Who stand against the wiles of the world,
And all of its various onslaughts.

And so my grandchild I'm writing to you,
Remember me when I'm with you no more.
Knowing we are proud of the gift we were given,
As you progress, grow wise and soar.