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When my first grandchild was born, I was working on the Andaman & Nicobar Islands, so received the news via a mobile phone call. It was several weeks before I met him, and wrote this meantime:

From Huntingdon itís not that far
to Andaman and Nicobar.
So why the tears and not the smiles?
Whatís in the distance? just air-miles!

At times like this I donít ask much,
but those I love,
to see and touch.

Itís not as though this is unique.
Children are born each day, each week.
Itís been like that since days of yore!
Itís all old hat; been done before!

I know:
thatís true:
but donít you see?
That boy is a new part of me!

It isnít just about genetics,
chromosomes, or what Ďbegetí is.
Of ancestry these are a part,
and more beside:
but not the heart.

Pedigreeís not just paternal,
it all points to the Eternal.
God in us,
Creatively,
working in perpetuity,
His Plan of continuity.

And Iím a part of that!
you see?
And what I am,
and what Iíve done,
what I have lost,
or may have won,
and what I leave when I pass on:
are these of value
things of worth
to leave behind to those on Earth?

This life is new;
he is unique,
so from hereon I needs must seek
renewal ;
recreated ;
true.

This much I owe;
this God can do.

When God on Earth with me is done,
calls ĎAccountí for what Iíve done, Iíll
to this defining moment come:

to Tony and to Lynne, a son.



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The following comments are for "... to Lynne, a son"
by Sercombe





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