Overwhelmed...

So today has been significantly overwhelming.

It started this morning when I woke up and realized that we've got less than a month to finish our house. I'm frustrated - it seems our contractor (a.k.a. my father-in-law) doesn't understand that even if it means having to go back and be inconvenienced somewhere down the road, we NEED to get the house done. Because if it isn't done, we're homeless as of July 30th. It continued with the knowledge that if we were to let our cats go - i.e. be adopted out and find new forever homes - it would mean that being without a house could be dealt with for a while. We can live in a tent. I can't stand the thought - we committed to them. And I love them. Especially Furbis. But... I don't see any alternative right now.

Then, we came home from church and I found Furbis in the laundry room, very sick. We took him to the vet, who said it could be a URI, or maybe blood poisoning. She also said that awful word - FIP. :( This has to be turned over to God - I just don't know what else could be done.

Now I'm sitting here, feeling guilty about missing praise and worship service but too worried to leave Furbis alone.

The part of all this that is scary is how hard it is for me to not be offended at a whole lot of people right now. Before we started this project, we asked quite a few people if they'd be willing to help. Almost all of them said yes, and that we could count on it. One couple has been up three times, another once. That's it. So the work has fallen all on us and on our dad. Which is definately not fair to him - he's supposed to be retired. So if you read this and you pray, please pray that I'd stay out of offense. Because no matter what happens, whether we're treated rightly or wrongly, it is still wrong to take offense. It opens the door for a bunch of negative things, plus, it's just plain wrong.

So, in summation: My cat is sick. He'll either get better or he won't, and there's not much we can do about it. Without a tangible miracle, our house won't be ready for us to move into. Meaning whether Furb lives or dies, the others will need to be rehomed, some of our stuff stored, some of it sold or given away, and we'll be in a tent. Because apparently, we need to be out of here by the end of the month because the person interested in renting is about to be evicted from his/her old apartment. We're finding ourselves asking what we did wrong, what we could have changed or done differently, so that we'd have help right now.

There's something else too, but I don't think a blog is the place to write about it. Too public. And it would be too easy for people to find themselves offended. SO... I guess for today, that's all. Just some unloading.

Did I mention my husband had to get stitches in his hand?