digging

There was a light knock on the door.

Miriam and I had slept in our teardrop trailer, but I got up earlier than her and had gone into our daughters house to check email and news.

It was church day and everyone was getting a bit extra sleep. That was OK.

When I answered the door I was greeted by a handsome Navajo native american. Daughter's land is on a reservation, but not Navajo.

“Is Cliff up?” Cliff is my son-in-law, and no, he wasn't up.

“I had to put an old horse down last night and I need borrow Cliff's backhoe to dig a grave.”

I woke Cliff. It was raining and was not going to be a pleasant day to do what had to be done.

The trailer for the backhoe was there at the house, but the backhoe itself had been leant to another native friend. Cliff put on his work clothes, skipped church, and spent the day helping a man in distress.

We take church day pretty seriously. We avoid any extra work. We try to make it a day to stop and think and relax a bit, but it also a day to help others.

Christians, for the most part are not very useful to the rest of the world, sometimes we get in people's way (not to mention getting into their face).

Cliff has made good strong friendships of many of his native neighbors. I am impressed.