"The Book: The Foreclosure"

This whole thing with the house is really getting to me. When you buy a house, especially your first house, there are so many hopes and dreams attached to it. I know that sounds cliché, but it is true. And then to see the dreams crash is almost more than one person can bear.
I was going to do stained glass for the windows. The light in the house was going to sparkle with jewel tones. A Salvador Dali tribute window was going to be in the bedroom and a garden scene for the bathroom.
The area around the pond was going to have paver blocks that would be like quilt blocks and the pavers would be laid out like a quilt. I also wanted to put an outdoor fireplace back there and finish the pond. I also wanted to put a pump on the greenman on the garage after you rounded the corner.
Now the backyard is overgrown. Why bother to keep it up? The house is going to just sit because it won’t sell; the market is swamped. On my four block street, there are eight houses for sale.
My house was my statement of “moving on.” I figured I wasn’t going to get married so it was stupid to wait to buy a house. I wasn’t going to be getting wedding presents so I bought Fiestaware. (China is really not my speed.) I knew I would be doing my own decorating so I bought the leather sofa and chair that I wanted and the obligatory large screen TV. And antiques; lots of antiques. I was planning on creating the home of my dreams.
But now it is over. We have to start packing, not knowing where we are going to go. We have to sell stuff not knowing if we will need it later.
Why does the church that I love hate me?Some people wanted me to go to Chicago for the Churchwide assembly. They wanted me to tell my story. I don’t think I could. I think I would become too despondent. I also can’t afford the fees to get into the assembly. I feel sorry for those who stayed to fight, but in my case, I still think I did the right thing by leaving. The senior pastor was not supportive and I didn’t want to pit the congregation against each other. Maybe it is an excuse, I don’t know.