I laughed softly.
“You always say that.”
“And you always ask.”
He pressed the seed into the soil and covered it carefully with his hand.
I looked around at the garden, the shed, the repaired fence, and the house that still stood behind us.
For years, I had believed that saving a family meant earning enough money to protect everyone from hardship. I had thought security was something you bought when you finally had enough.
Ray had taught me something different.
Security could also be a jar of food stored before winter, a little money saved from an ordinary paycheck, a repaired tool that lasted another year, a neighbor who knew how to grow vegetables, or a family member who refused to abandon you when things became difficult.
None of those things could prevent every tragedy.
They couldn’t guarantee good health, a steady job, or a future without fear.
But together, they could make the difference between facing a difficult season alone and having a chance to get through it.
