Somewhere you are holding the person I love," the boy said. "So, when I look out over your sands, I am also looking at her. I want to return to her, and I need your help so that I can turn myself into the wind.

Every home ceased to be a home sooner or later, but not with its demolition. It survived destruction as long as just one person who had loved it still lived. Home was the story of what happened there, not the story of where it happened.

If we rationalize our problems when He points them out, we will spend less and less time meditating because we won&#39;t want to face God in that area of our lives.

Written By Charles Stanley

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