How to buy a house in the middle of a nationwide housing crisis (or why I keep crying every five minutes)

Due to the fact that I am married to an old man, I am the first in my circle of friends to buy a house. Needless to say, I was totally unprepared for what a hassle the whole process is. A couple of weeks ago, BJ and I went to Kentucky to find a place to live come August. We went through about a dozen mediocre homes before we walked into our (ta-daa) dream home: a small, older two-story cottage that epitomizes the word quaint. It was love at first sight, and to make things even better, it was across the street from the church, so they were really happy about our choice. Our real estate agent (who I love) immediately took us back to the office to write up an offer. The offer was accepted, everyone was gloriously happy, and then money had to get involved.

Basically, two weeks of nail-biting and tears have passed, and we are still in limbo. Things are looking slightly more promising, but it is all so ridiculously complicated. BJ and I are surprised at how attached we feel to this little home we've never lived in. Not so deep inside of me, there is a little girl stomping her feet and screaming "It's my cottage!!! I don't care that there is a housing crisis and our economy is in shambles. I want my cottage and I want it NOW!" (She's a wordy little brat.)

With the stress of the house situation coupled with all of my belongings being in boxes that line the walls of our current house, I am a wreck. I keep crying over crazy things. For example, I was packing our kitchen towels earlier, and I came across some that were my grandmothers. They are decorative towels, so I've never washed them. I held them up to my nose, and to my surprise, they still smelled like Grandma's house. Of course, this sent me into a good long cry, because, as we all know, Grandma would have loved my little cottage.

I say all of this to say that we would really appreciate some prayers. Not necessarily that we will get our cute little cottage (although that would be nice), but rather that we will be able to accept whatever happens. Being an adult is such a drag.