Well, dear reader, as so often happens when families gather, there were more stories flying about than could possibly fit into one tidy post. But one in particular deserves to be shared.
My father’s cousin Darrell arrived at the reunion clutching an important-looking envelope. With all the solemnity of a man bearing sacred relics, he said, “Don, you need to see this.” I braced myself for something dramatic—a long-lost genealogy, perhaps, or a note from the Crown announcing my elevation to Lord Davidson of Bolton.
Instead, it was a letter. A letter of such preposterous creativity that it reminded me instantly of Monty Python’s Holy Grail. You’ll recall the plague scene — “Bring out your dead!” — and the poor old fellow protesting vigorously, “But I’m not dead yet!” Well, this letter was of the same genre.
It turns out that I, Donald Davidson of Canada, had apparently died. Yes, dear reader, news of my demise had spread as far as England, where an enterprising accountant was in desperate need of another Davidson to inherit the millions of U.S. dollars that I had so thoughtfully “squirrelled away” before expiring.
After reading the account of my untimely passing, I felt strongly moved to reply to the author: “Sir, I am not dead yet! Kindly keep your hands off my millions, and do not put me in the cart before my time.”
We laughed uproariously as the letter was passed around the family circle, and I must confess that laughter was a good tonic. But beneath the humour lies a sad truth: the world is filled with schemes designed to rob people of hope, trust, and money. Jesus warned us about wolves in sheep’s clothing, and here they are, alive and well, typing up nonsense in some dimly lit office.
Yet, as Christians, we are not called to live in fear of such tricks. We are called to laugh at folly, to cling to truth, and to remember that our real inheritance is neither dollars nor pounds, but the Kingdom of God itself.
So, dear reader, let me assure you — I’m not dead yet. In fact, by God’s grace, I am very much alive, and though I certainly will not dance (I’ve always had one Methodist leg), I rejoice in the One who is the Resurrection and the Life.