I was driving down a backroads “super highway” in small town central Massachusetts today, when I passed a young man digging a grave. Yes, he was in a cemetery, and yet, he stood alone, shovel in hand and a song in his heart. I never gave much thought to grave diggers before, but here was this young man near the corner of said “super highway” minding his own business and digging away.

As I got closer, I noticed from the perspective of my rearview mirror, that after every shovelful, he would kneel and pray. At least it looked like a prayer to me. This man, who could have been everyman, took his job so seriously that he took the time to pray for the safe passage of whomever was going into the hole he was digging, and I was deeply moved.

I so wanted to stop and take a still life photo. I had visions of pulling to the side of the road, hiding behind a tree, and shooting with a long lens, but instead I pulled over and said a prayer of my own – for the safe passage of whomever was going into the ground as well as for the grave digger. The truth of the matter is, we’re all connected, and a part of my soul was going into the ground with the deceased and a part of my heart was singing with joy for the homecoming that this dear grave digger was precipitating for us all. Imagine, if each of us took the time to shovel a small pile of dirt and follow it with a simple prayer each day what a different world this would be.

I pray for the grave digger, and I have the photograph forever aligned in my soul. Tomorrow, when I travel the same “super highway” to see my alpaca babies, I will shoot some pictures and sing a song of  hallejuiah  for all whom have gone before me, and those that cared enough to say a prayer for the passing of a conjoined soul.