If I don't elevate the small things,
He was born in darkness, obscurity,
It's my job to find God in all of it.
In the orange-vested flagger
protecting the road crew,
stamping her feet to stay warm.
In the bartender,
unfailingly cheerful and attentive
though it's shaping up to be a long night.
In the call center operator
who will never have a post go viral
or start a movement
or get 3 weeks paid vacation
or get rich or invent something
or get publicly recognized for anything,
but who's sure as hell going to be at work on time.
In the young father down the street,
sleepless, out in the cold,
hanging Christmas lights.
And to every outsider, inebriate, addict,
loner, lost cause, dropout, deadbeat,
immigrant, traveler, prophet, infant,
Go. Tell it on the mountain.
Our story is about to make the front page,
and God is one of us.