As a young bagpiper,
I was asked by a funeral director
to play at a graveside service for a homeless man,
with no family or friends.
The funeral was to be held at a cemetery
way back in the country,
and this man
would be the first to be laid to rest there.
As I was not familiar with
the backwoods area,
I became lost
and being a typical man
did not stop for directions.
I finally arrived an hour late.
I saw the backhoe and the crew,
who were eating lunch,
but the hearse was nowhere in sight.
I apologized to the workers
for my tardiness,
and stepped to the side of
the open grave,
where I saw the vault lid already in place.
I assured the workers
I would not hold them up for long,
but this was the proper thing to do.
The workers gathered around,
still eating their lunch.
I played out my heart and soul.
As I played,
the workers began to weep.
I played, and I played, like I'd never played before.
From "My Home, My Home" and "The Lord Is My Shepherd"
to "The Flowers of the Forest " ....
I finally closed the lengthy session with
"Amazing Grace"
and then walked to my car.
I opened the door
and as I was taking off my coat,
I overheard one of the workers saying to another,
"Jeezuz, Mary' n Joseph,
I never heard nor seen nothin' like that before,
and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
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