Easter 2008
Bobby Foster: The Adoption of a Gravedigger

The two men finished their spade work. The sun was nearing the horizon and a chill was beginning to be felt. It was April 19, the last day of winter. After finishing, two men stood at the edge of the hole and looked in. One was in his late fifties with a weather beaten look and a wiry build. The other was younger, in his twenties, taller and heavier. “Well BF, that does it,” rasped the older man. He reached into his mouth with the thumb and middle finger of his left hand, pulled out a wad of chewing tobacco and threw it in the hole. That was a ritual every time a grave was finished at the Union Cemetery.

“Do you want to ride the backhoe to the shed?” “Naw, I think I’ll walk back.” As the older man walked to the machine, the younger tarried at the grave. “Are you o.k. son?” the older man asked looking over his shoulder. “I hate these types,” the young man responded. “I’ve dug hundreds of graves and the ones for kids do seem harder,” the old man said sympathetically. “When I took over this job from Oren when he retired, he told me, ‘Newt, this is not just a job, it’s a trust. You will bury a lot of folks and this will be their last stop on earth. Their families will be hurting. Do the job right, the dead and their families are depending on you.’ But you know Bobby, it does take its toll on you. Especially when its folks you know and the younguns. But, old Oren was right, we have to do the job right, that’s our contribution. Luckily we don’t have to explain why it has to be done.”

“I just don’t get it. The kid was only 11. What sense is it for an 11 year old to die?” The older worker lifted his green John Deere hat off his head and ran his caloused hand through a chock of grey hair, but had no response. Both stood staring into the empty grave. “Who is the parson officiating?” “Pastor VanDeever of the Presby Church in town. He has always impressed me as good man.” The young man thought out loud, “Maybe I should ask him why the boy had to die.” “Meebe you should.” Newt again walked to the backhoe, fired it up and drove off the hill to the equipment shed.

Bobby Foster lifted the two spades, one on each shoulder, and began walking after the backhoe. He thought about when he was 11. He was a Junior Olympic wrestling champion. Wrestling was his passion, nothing else was even close. In high school he earned two Pennsylvania Regional Wresting Championships but never finished higher than 8th at the two state tournaments in which he wrestled. The size, confusion and pressure of the event overwhelmed him. He did earn a partial wrestling scholarship to Pitt Johnstown, but only made it through one semester. Again, it was a situation in which he could not be comfortable.

He reached the shed, cleaned the spades and hung them on the wall. He had been working at the Union Cemetery for almost 5 years. He looked over at Newton Alston, superintendent at Union for 23 years and wondered if he would be here that long. Newt was wiping down and replacing tools used earlier in the day to repair on of the chain mowers. With Spring tomorrow, the busy season would soon begin. “Can I help, Newt?”

“Nope, I’ll be done in a minute. Tomorrow we got to order grass seed and some new saplings. The Association wants a better catch of grass across from the parking lot and a row of trees planted. We’ll want to do that before the cutting and trimming gets into full swing.” “What time tomorrow?” Bobby asked. “Funerals at 10:30, so they should be here by 11:15, so we need to be here to set up at 9:00. See you then.” “See you at 9:00, Newt.”

Bobby picked up his lunch cooler and headed out the door. “You alright boy?” “Yep”, Bobby responded, “see you tomorrow.” He walked to the back of the building, entered his Silverado pickup and headed out Cemetery Road for home. It is only a 15 minute drive to the small 5 room ranch house he rents from Mrs. Schindley. She was in an assisted living facility. This little house was the dream house of the Schindleys, but Henry developed Alzheimer’s within a year of building the house. He is now in a home for Alzheimer’s patients. Actually, that whole deal is another thing he can’t understand.
A nice little old retired couple and in a couple of months their whole world is turned upside down and wrecked.

Bobby Foster pulled up to his mail box. Nothing but bills and flyers from WalMart and Penneys. He went in the side door, removed his Red Wing work boots and peeled off his dirty Woolrich and Carhartt work clothes. After popping open a Budweiser, he jumped into the shower for a long, warm drenching. Try as he could to think of other things, he kept coming back to Ricky Myers, the 11 year he would lower into the grave tomorrow.

About twenty minutes later, he checked his answering machine and saw the light blinking. He retrieved one message from his sister Marie. She was trying to be calm, but he knew better. His mother was back in the hospital…not serious…but he needed to come and see her as soon as possible. Laverne Foster had been battling sever diabetes for the past four years. The docs were having trouble regulating it and she already had the toes on her left foot amputated. She seemed to be subject to infections. He pulled on clean clothes and headed to Memorial Hospital.

At the hospital he rode the elevator to the 4th floor. As the doors opened, Bessie Lerner, one of his mother’s church friends was waiting to go down. “Bobby, honey” she seemed to shout. “Your mom will be so glad to see you.” “Hello, Mrs. Lerner. How is she doing.” “She is in a lot of pain in her bad leg. Dr. Meechem says it doesn’t look good for that leg. But, you know your mom…she is always smiling and loving others. You are blessed to have a mom like yours.” Bobby and Bessie Lerner parted company and he looked for and found Room 415.

As he crossed the threshold, his mother looked at him, smiled and said, “Bobby, honey, how are you? It is so good to see you. You aren’t working too hard are you? Are you taking care of your self? Do you….” He interrupted her, “Mom, I’m fine, what about you?” “Come and give me a hug son”, as she sat up further in her hospital bed. He complied and gave her a hug and she kissed his unshaved cheek. “It’s good to see you,” she repeated. “Now, mom, why are you back here?” Bobby emphatically inquired. “Oh, honey, I’m having some discomfort and Dr. Meechem wanted me to be here so they could monitor what’s going on. It’s not a big deal, though. Have you met Dr. Meechem, he’s a nice man. I taught him and his sister a church camp.”

“Mom, it is a big deal if you are in here! Mrs. Lerner said you are having a lot of pain in your leg.” “Oh, Bessie worries so much about everything. I think I’ll be fine.” Before Bobby could ask anything else, three people popped in the door. “Rev.Skillman, Peggy and Becky, so nice of you to come. You know my Bobby don’t you?” After introductions, an exchange of niceties and a brief explanation of Laverne Foster’s medical issues, the next 30 minutes were spent discussing the church and the problems of other parishioners. Bobby thought to himself, that is just like mom, concerned with others more that herself. He patiently listened.

When Pastor Skillman, his wife and Becky Larson took their leave, he asked Bobby. “Are you still working at the Union Cemetery?” “Sure am.” “I grew up with Newt Alston. He came from a tough background. Dad in and out of jail; his mom died when he was 15.” “I didn’t know that.” “And, to top it off, his first wife deserted him when he was in the Army. But, he still seems to have it together. Thanks be to God for His grace.” Bobby said nothing more but thought, how about grace for Ricky Myers, his mom and the Schindleys.

“Haven’t seen you in church lately.” “No, I don’t get there very often with my schedule and other things.” “You know you are always welcome. It would please you mother greatly if you came with your dad, mom, Marie and her kids.” Again, Bobby was silent. What could he say except he didn’t see much reason for church. And, it didn’t seem to make much difference for those that went anyway. No use starting an argument in mom’s hospital room. “It was nice to see you again, Bobby,” the pastor said as he shook his hand and walked away.

It was 8:55 and a nurse came around to say visiting hours were over in 5 minutes. “I have such nice friends, Bobby.” “Yeah, mom they seem very nice. How is dad taking this?” “Well, he insisted I come in here. I really didn’t want to, but you know dad, he is very protective of me. So, he brought me in about noon when I couldn’t put weight on my leg.” “How long had it been like that, mom?” “A couple days, honey. I thought it would get better. But, now I am here so they can find out the problem.” The lights flashed and over the intercom a nurse’s voice boomed, “Visiting hours are over.”

“Mom, I am going to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow evening.” “You take care of yourself and be careful, Bobby. I love you.” “I love you too, mom.” He hugged her again and she again kissed his bristly cheek. “Are you growing a beard again, honey?” “No, I just didn’t shave today. You never liked my beard.” She smiled, “It’s not that I didn’t like your beard, it hide your dimples.” Bobby smiled and said goodbye.

On his way home, he decided to stop at the Old Cabin Inn. He pulled into an almost empty parking lot. Good, he thought, I don’t want to talk to anyone. He took a stool at the bar. “Bobby,” Jack Hudson the week day bar tender said, “How are you?” “Good, Jack. Give me a Yeungling Lager.” “Glass?” “No, just the bottle.” As he lifted the bottle to his lips, the door sprung open and a penetrating voice exclaimed, “It’s Digger O’Dell.” Bobby knew exactly who it was, Reggie Neumann. Bobby turned on his stool and saw Neumann and his sidekick Stu Phillips. They were high school classmates and not his favorite people.

One plopped down on each side of Bobby. “Jack, bring us two Black Jacks on the rocks.” Neumann turned to Bobby, “How’s the cemetery business? People dying to get in?” He burst into laughter, as did Phillips. Bobby wondered why he stopped. “Me and Stu are still working for Minter Construction. Great job. We are off all winter and go back to work next week.” “Yeah,” Phillips added, “We went to the Super Bowl and took the Clymer twins to St. Croix for a month. Beats dealing with this winter weather, eh Bobby?”

Jack asked, ”Who has the new ride?” “That’s my 2003 ‘Vette. Tomorrow being the first day of spring, I Got it off the blocks and put on the tires for cruising until next winter,” explained Neumann. “Still have your Ram pickup?” “Yeah, that and the PT Cruiser. Never can have too many wheels I say,” said Neumann chuckling. “I’ve got a Prowler ordered,” chimed in Phillips chimed in, “should be in by April 15. Cherry red with black leather buckets.” Even amid the bragging the Jack Daniels was gone. “Two more, Jack. How ‘bout we buy you a beer Digger?” Bobby responded, “No thanks, I have to work tomorrow.” “Too bad,” Neumann said without meaning it.

“See you Jack”, Bobby said as he left, and he added for Neumann and Phillips, “take care guys.” When he got outside he breathed deeply of the cool night air. He was glad to get out of that stifling environment. Those guys do nothing but talk about themselves and what they have and have done. He walked by Reggie’s Corvette with more that a little bit of envy in his heart and swung up into his 1999 pickup. He tuned in MegaRock and headed down the road not knowing that his life would be soon changed forever.

Just about two miles from the Log Cabin Inn, he spied a figure on the side of the road. As he came closer, Bobby saw it was a massive man wearing a black Nike warm up and a Pittsburgh Steeler ball cap. He was hitchhiking. Nowadays, you do not see many hitchhikers. He recalled dad saying never, never pick up a hitchhiker. But, there was within Bobby an overwhelming urge to stop. He tried to overcome it but he stopped next to the guy and lowered the passenger window. “How about a ride?” the stranger asked. Bobby hesitated in his mind but his voice said, “Sure, climb in.” The man lifted himself in and filled the passenger side of the cab. He had to be 6’6” and 275 pounds. Bobby was 6’2” and 200 pounds and this man dwarfed him. “Thank you for your kindness”, the man said reaching over with a massive hand that totally enveloped Bobby’s.

Bobby was feeling a little intimidated, so he quickly said, “You a Steeler fan?” The big man replied, “Not really, never saw a game, but I wear this in recognition of my brother.” “He plays for the Steelers?” “Yes. He is called Thunder Dan Kreider.” Bobby loosened up, “Wow. Dan Kreider what a great player he is and you’re his brother. This is an honor. Are you heading home?” “No, I am just passing through.” Bobby inquired, “What’s your name?” “John Allen”, he replied. “I thought you were Kreider’s brother? How come you have different last names?” “We have the same older brother and Father” John responded.

Bobby began thinking there is something strange about this guy. He looked at him but found he could not look long in his face. He had wavy brown hair cascading out from the hat and his face was smooth and almost featureless. “You seem troubled, Bobby,” John stated in a melodic way. Bobby freaked out, he knows my name, he thought almost audibly. “Well…uh…you just don’t see many hitchhikers today.” John ignored his comment and said, “Ricky Myers is my brother, too.” Bobby’s flesh became cool and sweaty at the same time. Who is this guy and what is he talking about? John showed no emotion although Bobby knew he could feel Bobby’s apprehension.
“Bobby, life is certainly hard to figure. And, we do not always understand why things happen. When you dug that grave today, it was not for Brother Ricky. It is only his body that will be placed in that grave tomorrow. Ricky the person has gone to his Father and my Father. And some day his brothers and sisters will see him again.” Bobby listened in a way he seldom did. But, it didn’t make sense; Ricky Myers was an only child.

“Bobby, there is more to this world than you see. This is not the home of those who have the same elder brother and Father. Ricky was just passing through. I was just passing through. Danny Kreider is just passing through. All those bodies you and Newt bury, old Oren was not quite right…that is not there final resting place. We all have a destiny beyond this world. The only question is where it will be. And what happens to you here does not determine your destiny. Your destiny is dependant on whether you belong to the family with our elder brother and the Father.”

When he finished, John peered out the windshield and said, “That’s my next stop…that house with the picket fence and separate garage.” Bobby bewildered by the last 10 minutes, looked and said, “The Recker place. You know them too.” “John Recker is my uncle. I’ll get out here.” Bobby stopped the truck. John turned to him and Bobby could not avoid looking into his face. Later he thought it was like looking into the very depths of all the world’s seas. “Bobby, remember, do not make this world your home. Seek first the Father’s home and you will not have to worry about the things of this world. Turn your back on the things of this world and believe and trust in all the things my elder brother says. If you do, I’ll see you again. Repent and believe, Bobby.”

The big man slipped out of the truck, waved, turned and headed up the path from the road to the house. Bobby watched as he mounted the porch steps and them pulled back onto the highway. He was about a mile down the road when he noticed a book on the passenger side bucket seat. John left it he thought. He turned around and headed back to the Recker place. He pulled into the driveway this time. The house was dark. It was now almost 11:00. Come to think of it there were no lights on when he dropped off John. Not wanted to disturb the Reckers, he decided to come back tomorrow to deliver the lost book.

The alarm sounded at 6:45. Bobby Foster had not slept much. He laid awake thinking about what John Allen said. He didn’t get it all but he seemed at peace about the funeral today. Since he had to stop at the Reckers before work he decided to arise, shower, put on his work clothes for the day and get going. As he was going out the door, he passed up his usual NASCAR hats and grabbed his Steeler cap even though it wasn’t football season. He arrived at Thatcher’s Restaurant at 7:30 for breakfast. Linda Timmons, who was a single mom, also from his class at school, waited on him. He had the usual, fried eggs, home fries, and home made toast with OJ and hot coffee. “Bobby, you look different today,” said Linda. “I guess that’s a compliment,” he laughed. There is something going on, he thought.

He arrived at the Reckers around 8:15. John and Alice Recker were in their late sixties. John retired from the railroad. They both enjoyed gardening, flowers and vegetables. He picked up the book and realized for the first time that it was a Bible. Must be John Allen’s he thought. Bible in hand, he walked up the steps and knocked on the door. Alice came to the door and smiled when she saw Bobby. “Bobby Foster, come on in. I haven’t seen you in a long while. I hear by the church prayer chain that your mother is in the hospital. How is she doing?” “Good morning, Mrs. Recker. I am sorry to bother you this early.” “That’s fine Bobby, we are early risers. I’m making some sticky buns. Would you like to join John and me. The first batch is ready to come out of the oven.” “Thank you, but I’ve got to get to work. I just wanted to return this Bible to your nephew, John Allen. I gave him a ride over here late last night and he left it in my vehicle.”

Mrs. Recker turned ashen. Weakly, she called for her husband, “John, Bobby Foster is here and he says….” Her voice tailed off as she choked back tears. Bobby was surprised. “Are you o.k. Mrs. Recker?” She excused herself and turned and ran into her husband coming to the door. “What’s wrong Alice?” She sobbed as he held her, “Bobby says he brought Johnny to our house last night.” John Recker shot a fierce stare at Bobby, “What is the meaning of this? My nephew John has been dead for 3 years. He died on a mission trip to Cambodia and his body was never recovered. Is this some kind of hoax.” Whatever good feelings Bobby had now escaped like air out of a balloon.

For several minutes he recounted last night and showed them the Bible. It was on of John’s Bibles from the name on the inside. He received it at confirmation class at his Methodist Church in Columbus, Ohio, his hometown. The Reckers recounted that John was last at there home on the way to New York to fly to Cambodia. He was part of a mission group to take the Gospel to the jungles of Cambodia. John had become a Presbyterian and believed it was necessary to go everywhere to bring those for whom Christ died into the Family of God.

Bobby apologized for the problem he caused. The Reckers were gracious and wanted him to keep John’s Bible. He returned to the truck. He was having that feeling he did at the state wrestling tournament and in college. He was uncomfortable. It was confusing and he felt like he wanted to be somewhere else. But where would he go? He turned the key in the ignition and started for the Union Cemetery. He was restless and anxious. He pulled in behind the shed rubbed his eyes. It was almost 9:00 but Newt wasn’t there yet, which was unusual. He picked up the Bible and opened it again. Some of the pages were book marked with some of the text underlined.

He began to read those passages. In Eph. 1:4-8 he read that God had chosen people to be His children by redemption through the blood of Jesus Christ. In Rom. 3:22-26, he read that justification, remission of sin and righteousness is available only through the death of Christ. In Gal. 4:4-7, he read that the redeemed receive full rights as the sons of God. And finally, he read in Rom. 8:12-17 and 28-35 that as sons of God we can suffer, but nothing, not even death, can separate God’s children from Him. The tears were streaming down his cheeks. Suddenly he understood what John was saying. He understood his mother. He understood why the death of a child of God was not a tragedy, no matter their age. Right there in the Silverado, he repented and believed and to him the righteousness of Christ was credited.
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It was another spring. Snow was flying, mixed with rain. A blue sedan pulled up beside the shed at the Union Cemetery. Alighting from the car was a man dressed in a grey suit, white shirt and blue striped tie. He opened the door and saw Newt Alston and two young boys working on chain mowers. Newt looked up and gladly greeted the visitor, “BF, good to see you. How long has it been?” Bobby moved forward to shake the older man’s hand, “About 5 years. I finished working here the summer after Ricky Myers died. Went back to college that fall, got my degree last spring and have been working in Pittsburgh since.” “Sorry to hear about your mom, Bobby.” “That’s why I’m here Newt, I want to help with the grave.” Newt paused and then said, “Well…if you want to son I don’t see no harm. Be here at 7:30 tomorrow morning.”

“I’ve got an appointment with the Pastor at 2:00 so I need to move on. I’ll see you tomorrow, Newt.” “I’ll walk you to your car.” The two went through the door to Bobby’s car. Newt said, “You used to hate digging graves of kids and people you knew, Bobby. I know you said you became a ‘born again Christian’ but what happened?” Bobby smiled and said, “If you have some time get in we’ll take a ride and I’ll tell you about my Father.” Newt hesitated, climbed in the passenger seat and the car drove off in the snow and rain with two puzzled boys looking on from the shed door.