A House Is Not A Home ...

... But it was going to be. To me.
I imagined redecorating that house until it was 'us.' I imagined Christmases and Easters and dinner parties and kids' sleepovers. I imagined having more children there. I imagined doing laundry there and waking up there and coming home to that house everyday. I imagined cooking and gardening and cleaning. I imagined Christmas morning. In our home.

But it turned out that somebody else gets to have those things. And not even just in their imagination. In reality.

I feel cheated out. Lost. And I wonder if there's a plan in my life, or only chaos. I just am seeming to bounce around with no destination, and every time a dream seems close to reality, the bubble bursts and I am left with nothing. Like Cinderella, her gown torn to shreds moments before she was to get to go to the ball.

I wonder if God has a plan. Or if this is His plan. And I wonder if we will get to have at least something, some crumbs from the table of the feast, perhaps.

I feel so disappointed. It was going to be our home.