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The harder road.

I was thinking about our plans to move to southern California to live with and care for our parents.  And I was thinking what a harder road that was, compared to living as I am and enjoying my freedom.  Freedom from the extra care, freedom from the scrutiny, freedom to be the queen of my own home.

And I was at a mental crossroads, so to speak, looking at two very different roads.  One road, smooth and fair.  The other, rough and steep with temptation.  One with easy footing.  The other, a crag for my selfish heart.

And for a fleeting second, I coveted the easier road.

But then the thought came —

“Child, the harder road is the one I’m not on.”

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