People are strange. They just are.

Everybody has something strange about them. Sometimes it takes years  to figure out what those things are.

My former husband’s grandfather didn’t leave the house for decades. His wife, my former husband’s grandmother, went to work and supported the family. I never heard a single time  anybody say anything bad about him. It was strange.

A dear friend of ours was a pastor and really good guy. His wife wouldn’t go out with him, and if he had guests, she would cook dinner and go off elsewhere.

I had great-great grandparents who didn’t speak for maybe around 50 years. It seems he lost his job and instead of telling her, he went to the bar until his money ran out. She cooked for him but would not speak to him until they died.

My former father-in-law would pray for every meal for the sick, and the shut-ins. His kids would laugh about it,..who are these shut ins? Were are they?

Here they are. Right here. Right now. It’s me.

People are strange. They just are.

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