01/25/2026
I wanted to share the poem that led to The GRIT & IRON Network
A seed is planted by fate or hand,
That seed is nurtured by God and by man.
When hence a tree has then grown forth,
One comes along who sees its worth.
So as a block of wood is how we started,
When from our trunks we once had parted,
To serve our country regardless of name,
Thus nothing could e’er be the same.
Nails were driven to bind us together,
Creating a barrier the storms to weather,
Protecting the sheep that rest within,
Our burden to bear — yet joy within.
Wolves came knocking; we kept them at bay,
So that within our safety the sheep might lay.
Strong winds came and loosened the nails,
But our bond remained through night’s wails.
When tattered and torn, the nails no longer hold,
It’s time to be replaced by boards less old.
The scars, the holes, the burns remain,
And that’s why I’ll never be the same.
But I still have value, if not a prize,
Even if only through my own eyes.
My burns don’t make me ugly,
And I don’t care about your opinion.
They have strengthened my grain
From outside, deep within.
My scars are reminders — a price I gladly bear;
As a badge of honor, my scars I proudly wear.
My holes don’t make me weak,
Because I do not leave them empty.
I’ve chosen strength. I do not need your pity.
I am a warrior, and I freely chose to fight,
So the ones I love could sleep in peace each night.
A broken board should ne’er be rendered useless,
But prized and cherished for its endless uses.
-S. McCauley
