Paradise Lost

Sigh. Another house deal hits the dust. Twice in one year. I'm right back to square one, again. I don't have much to write on the matter. "Wasn't meant to be," yes, thanks for reminding me of that AGAIN. But if it wasn't meant to be, what the hell are we meant for?! What are we doing wrong? What signs are we missing? I'd like to know so I could stop getting my hopes up over nothing. Perhaps I need to stop hoping? Maybe I need to admit the follies of the Worker Movement and distributism and just shift into happy suburban housewife mode. Oh, maybe I could even stick my kids in public school get my tubes tied and go back to work! Yea! Than we could have a really big house with a tiny chemically treated yard, three SUVs in the driveway and I could pay to have everything done for me! Whoop-de-doo! Living the American dream! Wouldn't that be the easy, painless way to go I wonder. But, I guess we know better and there's no going back, although going forward is damned near impossible. Pray that our way is revealed to us, that our path is made clear. If you know any houses with acreage for sale at a reasonable price near a nice Latin Mass/Parish/Community let me know as I am open to anything and anywhere at this point.

"I should know by this time that just because I feel that everything is useless and going to pieces and badly done and futile, it is not really that way at all. Everything is all right. It is in the hands of God. Let us abandon everything to Divine Providence."
House of Hospitality,
Chapter Six
By Dorothy Day