Early morn on Sunday
Before gathering for church,
The decrepit old truck eases gently down the lane.
The schedule for today is a light one,
And allows for a trip to the graveyard:
It will be a short visit with his last remaining connection
With the preceding generation.

The sun begins to burn away the early morning fog
While the chill escapes the late Summer morn.
Two horse-drawn buggies carry Amish families
To church.
Broken as he is,
He serves them,
And he calls each of them his friends.
He welcomes them into the world,
And attends them when they pass away,
He is there at many of the critical points
That they encounter along the way.

He is a man of peace and healing,
Although it has not always been so.
Thirty-five years ago he lost his legs
In a jungle so very far away.
It seems to him like yesterday
And he carries his wounds with dignity,
If not with pride,
For his sacrifice was a gift
And indeed it has shaped his life.

The cemetery in Plain City is a small one,
And plain, as you might expect.
It safeguards the remains of yesteryear,
And preserves memories pure.
We can delude ourselves elsewhere,
But here, we must respect the truth,
For those before us deserve nothing less,
Afterall, what are delusions really worth?

"Dad, you know how much I miss you,"
He offers from his worn wheelchair.
"And I'm still lonely here without you,
And I long for the time that we shared."

He moves closer to the headstone,
And pulls crabgrass from its borders;
"Mrs. Johnson is doing well, and her rheumatism is under control.
And old Jake from down at the hardware store,
Asked me to tell you hello.
Jenny Brown is as fertile as her mother was,
And number five has just arrived.
And poor Harold, you know, that husband of hers,
Is now working away his life."

"You know, Dad, I'm proud to carry the family name,
It's an honor to be the doctor for this town,
But the one little thing that I sorely regret,
Is that there's none to follow me when I'm gone.
I've served them well,
Or at least I've tried to,
You know, Dad, it's a great little town,
But the most important thing has always been,
That somehow I would make you proud."

"Well, Dad, that's all that I've come to tell you,
And I'm sure that I'll see you next week,
I'll do my best to take care of these folks,
And I'll tell you all about it, when next we speak."

He muscled that old chair into the truck bed,
And then drug himself up to the cab.
He climbed right into that old driver's seat,
Buckled up, and thought of his Dad.

"You know, Son,
This life isn't easy,
I never told you that it would be so.
We simply live our lives as the Lord would have us do,
And we help out wherever we can.
We do our best to keep our hearts pure,
And our path should always be to the right,
And then, my son,
I promise that you will see,
That we'll be together again,
Just you and me."