In all those things we have to do
That don’t feel like a calling at all…
We are called.
In the mundane and regular and repetitive,
In the work-a-day, every-day, Groundhog Day things,
Again and again,
Nothing spectacular or newsworthy,
Nothing that will get us in the headlines,
And yet in God’s currency these things are gold.
Keeping going, caring, lifting others up,
Taking another step in the right direction,
All of us in the business of saving lives,
With a smile, a kind word, a sacrificial action.
No work unseen, no seeds lost, as we soldier on,
The daily, nightly call of small trudgery, keeping on
In that slow moving race of life.
We are called, to that which does not feel like a calling,
The gold dust of patience, and precious metal of kindness,
The courage of keeping on with Life’s meandering way.

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