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.”