COUNTRY CEMETERY

As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a
grave-side 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 was 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 poured out my heart and soul. As I preached the workers began to say "Amen,"
"Praise the Lord," and "Glory"! I preached, and I preached,
like I'd never preached before: from Genesis all the way to Revelations.
I closed the lengthy service with a prayer and walked to my car.
As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of
the workers saying to another, "I ain't never seen anything like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."