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 backcountry. 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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