1000 years ago I was engaged to a beautiful man, immature but beautiful (of course we were very young so what did we expect). We did not marry and I was deeply hurt. Out of that hurt, however, I came to live with his family in a small MI town. This small turn in my life changed it forever and I am deeply grateful. I used to say that the best thing about our relationship was that he did not marry me but truly the best thing about our relationship was his family. They took me in and loved me. They taught me lessons about kindness, about how to love people and to allow people to love me back. They helped me heal the grievous wounds of my childhood. They taught me how to live well and frugally. They are the rare and elusive true Christians, in that they are Christ like.
I quote wisdom from them frequently in my life, one of my favorites is "There are 2 kinds of people in the world, those who love you and those who don't. The ones who love you won't care (if you are different) and the ones who don't, don't matter". Their family slang still lurks in my vocabulary in delicious words like boodles, biffy, lerts and juvinile kineto osmosis. Recipes I learned from them are still in my rotation. When I am dealing with something painful or difficult like the dentist, their house is one of the places I return to in memory to distract myself and to be comforted by.
What started all this ruminating was I recently ran into a picture of the ex fiancé, and he looked firmly nee deeply middle aged.(Actually he kinda looks like his dad looked when I met him) Could he be that old, shouldn't he be in his 30s or something? I think he has 2 grown kids, how can that be? Time time time time flys. It isn't original but damn if it isn't true.