As a young bagpiper, I was asked by a funeral director to play at 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 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 & The Lord is my Shepherd to Flowers of the Forest .
I closed the lengthy session with Amazing Grace 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,
"Sweet Jeezuz, Mary'n Joseph, I never seen nothin' like that before - and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
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