"Grandma's House Is Lost"

Natalie watched the little fellow pass her house for the third time. Each time he came to the walk
leading into her home he would stop and look longingly at her house and walk on. Natalie knew that he didn't belong in her neighborhood, so she went out to him and asked him if he was lost.

"No, I'm not lost," he replied with quivering lips, "but my grandma's house is."

"What is your grandma's name?" Natalie asked him.

"Grandma," he answered proudly. Natalie realized the boy was on the wrong street, and so she took him into the next block and to a house much like hers where they found his worried grandma.

How interesting that the boy did not think he was lost, but it was the house that had been moved. Many people think that way. When things go wrong it is usually the other fellow who is at fault. Some people even go so far as to blame God for their troubles. Why did God let my tire get punctured right then, just when I needed to get to the store in a hurry? God wasn't riding the bike and he didn't put the nail on the street, either.

We hate to admit that we are in the wrong. We try to find some person or something to blame when things don't go to suit us. When we lose our contact with the home base it is we who have wandered off, not the home base.

Our lives are anchored in God. When we break that tie with him we can look for trouble. When we try to take short cuts around God we end up in trouble. He never moves away. But we do.

I am glad, dear God, that you never move your house. Keep a light burning for me when I stay away.