A word that means different things to different people.
Security may be a uniformed man with a gruff look and a squawking walkie talkie.
Security may be a small box on a wall with a mysterious code that must be entered to avoid loud alarms sounding.
To me, security is being prepared.
Prepared for the needs of the people I care about.
The people I live with.
The people I have promised to provide for.
A stack of wood that took eight and a half hours to make, but that will keep us warm when the outside threatens with cold and ice.
A pantry that houses snack choices for hungry children, straight off their school day.
A freezer that contains all I need to provide a hearty dinner to my family, and, if they are lucky, dessert too.
A planner that holds all the places my loved ones will be so I will not worry when I inevitably forget what the day's plan is.
But I can't help thinking of the people who cannot share in my security.
The people who shiver in the winter nights when their heat doesn't exist.
The people whose children do not have enough extra food to have a snack when they get off the bus.
The people who do not know where dinner is coming from next, or even when.
The people who do not know where their loved ones are, or who do not have someone wondering where they are.
I think of those people, and I try to be thankful.
Thankful for having the wood to stack and the sore body after.
Thankful for the snacks that I have to clean up from.
Thankful for the meal plan I need to make out for dinner each week.
Thankful for all the places I get to be with my loved ones that fill up my planner and my days.
And I pray for those who are without.
Those who have longing.
Those who struggle.
That someday, they will be thankful for their security.