I nearly had a heart attack when I watched my eight-year-old son step to the edge of the cliff and peer down. The sheer drop-off was just one of many we had passed on our hike. I held my two-year-old son in one arm and held on to my six-year-old son with my other hand. Unable to keep my two hands on all three wandering boys, I decided this hike had been a mistake.
The trail wasn’t strenuous, but I found myself exhausted from worrying about keeping my boys safe and always herding someone away from a dangerous ledge. It was beautiful country, but I was grateful when the nerve-racking hike was behind me.
At least I thought it was behind me.
Read the full story from this month’s Liahona here.