Life goes on and we learn to accept our losses, as painful as they may be.  Frankly, I love this house I am in, if that is possible.  I represents security and comfort to me.  I represents a chance for me to stop wandering and have someplace to call a home.  Something I have never had in my life.  I am deeply bitter that it may be taken from me.  However, I know it is my own fault.  I should have nailed the owner down to a purchasing agreement.  I should have been the untrusting, legal eagle to draft a contract.  However, as usual I am trusting of people.  I yearn so much for a world where a persons word is their bond.  Where honor and integrity is more valuable than money.  To my grief I do not live in such a world.

There is one more chance to be had, a chance that like everything else in my life relies heavily on the mercy of God above to work.  My Dads best friend is a mortgage broker.  He is coming up here next week to look at the house and explore whether he can finance it or not.  Then, we may be able to make an offer on the house and hope that our "opponent" fails in his attempt to get a loan.  As I said before...  it is in God's hands.