Cape Breton Funeral

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Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.
 
 
 
     Subject: : Cape Breton Funeral
 
 
 
      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 and
     Ecclesiastes 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,
 
                 'Lard Jeezuz b'y, I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting
                 in septic tanks for twenty years.'
                 
 
 
                 A lesson for men who hate to ask for directions