A Kentucky Funeral

Fay Voshell
American Thinker

Glenn Roland Voshell was buried on a hill on his Kentucky farm last week.

“We can still do that here in Kentucky,” his wife Gayle said.

And so my brother was laid to rest on the land he loved.

His Amish neighbors volunteered horses and wagons to carry him to his final destination.  The horses chuffed and snorted as they plodded up the hill with their cargo of grandchildren, who momentarily had forgotten the reason for their ride up the hill.  As all little ones do, they seized the moment, laughing with pure joy over an unexpected hayride.

We adults trudged in silence behind the wagon loaded with Glenn’s body as a kindly sun warmed our shoulders, a soft breeze blew across our faces, and the vaulted blue sky looked down.  The jingling of harness hardware and the soft thud of the horses’ hooves were the only sounds.  A hawk wheeled overhead…

…I reflected on how miraculous this gathering was.  Here was community — family, neighbors, and church folk all bonded by love and Christian faith.

Here, gathered at my brother’s funeral, was an America fast vanishing, often overlooked and sometimes openly despised.  Here were works of the hands, works of the plow, and works of faith. Simple things.  Profound things.  Things of the heart.  Things my brother loved.

Here, too, I thought, was the heart of our country.  If it were to stop beating forever, the land would perish.

God, I prayed, don’t let the heart stop beating.

Read the entire essay at American Thinker.

H/T American Power

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