It happened to a minister (i)

A story sent to me.

A bloke sent me this story. I cannot vouch for its truthfulness, but its a good yarn.

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. 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 apologised 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 preached, like I'd never preached before: from Genesis to Revelation. 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 20 years!"

The man who sent that to me was a plumbing inspector. I think he knew that as a plumber turned parson I would enjoy it.

A true funeral story of mine.

I led a funeral on a rainy day. We had done the Church ceremony and now gathered around the open grave. There was a mound of clay around the hole, the sides were covered with artificial grass. At the head of the grave was an uncovered slope of clay. With the coffin lowered part way into the grave, I stood on the clay to lead the final brief reading and prayer, with the funeral director standing beside me holding an umbrella covering both of us. As I launched in to the final prayer, inviting everyone to "bow in prayer" I realised to my horror that I was slipping on the wet clay down the slope toward the hole. I kept my head and kept on calmly praying, while backpedalling with small hopefully not too obvious steps, in as dignified manner as I could. It was then that I heard a snort beside me and a stifled grunt. Glancing sideways, I saw the poor funeral director with gloved hand over his mouth. He had seen my predicament and was struggling to control his mirth! It nearly set me off giggling. I said a sombre "Amen", and with relief, took a big step backward off the clay.