For those of you with septic tanks...
As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director
to hold a graveside service for a homeless man, with no
family or friends, who had died while traveling through
the area. 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 I did not stop for
directions. I finally arrived an hour late.
I saw the crew, 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 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. I felt I had done my duty for the homeless
man and that the crew would leave with a renewed sense
of purpose and dedication, in spite of my tardiness.
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 this before and I've
been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box.