So someone in the Baptist side of my family tree emails me to tell me that a relative had a near fatal head-on collision with some jackass in a pickup truck.  She escaped with enough damage to go to the hospital, but not so much that she had to stay overnight, which is a relief.  But of course, then comes the sermon to a wandering family lamb: It just goes to show, you better be ready to meet the Lord at any moment…

Please.  In the past couple of months I have flown to Mexico and to Portland Oregon and morbid as it was I took some care to make sure my brother knew all my important passwords (not my work passwords obviously, but this blog and my household computers…) and the combination to my safe where my will and the deed to my house is.  If I should die in the next moment there should be enough money between the life insurance and selling the house for him to pay off my debts, cremate my remains and scatter them somewhere on a nice hillside overlooking the sea near Oceano, and have a tidy sum left over for himself and his kids.  That’s the extent to which family rightfully needs to worry about how well prepared I am to meet my maker.  The rest is my affair.

I appreciate your concern for my immortal soul.  I appreciate that you want us all to be together again in the hereafter.  You need to have faith that God, assuming God even exists, is good.  That’s all.  Just have faith in that. 

“I like the silent church before the service begins, better than any preaching.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson