A funeral director recently asked me to play for a homeless man’s graveside service. He had no family or acquaintances, therefore the funeral was to be held in a pauper’s graveyard in the countryside. I got lost in the wilderness since I was unfamiliar with it. I arrived an hour late and discovered that the funeral director had left and the hearse was nowhere to be seen. There were only the diggers and crew remaining, and they were eating lunch.

I felt horrible 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 wasn’t sure what else to do, so I started playing. Workers set down their sandwiches and began to congregate around. I poured out my heart and soul for this man who had no family or friends. I played as if I had never played before for this homeless man.

As I played ‘Amazing Grace,’ the workers began to cry. They grieved, so did I, and we all cried together. When I finished, I packed my guitar and headed for my car. Though my head hung down, 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.” I still seem to be lost.