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Subject: /Country Funeral

Discussion in 'The Lighter Side' started by lethal tupperwa, Mar 2, 2007.


  1. lethal tupperwa

    lethal tupperwa
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    Joined:
    Aug 20, 2002
    8,351
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    Location:
    Virginia
    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."
     
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