As a guitarist, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked
by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had
no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper’s cemetery in the
back country. As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost.
I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy
had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the
diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch.
I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late.
I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already
in place. I didn’t know what else to do, so I started to play.
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather
around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends.
I played like I’ve never played before for this homeless man.
And as I played ‘Amazing Grace,’ the workers began to
weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished I packed up my
guitar and started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was full.
As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the
workers say, “I never seen nothin’ like that before and I’ve been putting in
septic tanks for twenty years.”
Apparently, I’m still lost…
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