After losing my husband, my garden became my safe place — a spot for peace, time with my grandkids,

and fresh food for my family. My daughter Sarah even gave me the empty lot beside her house so I could build the garden of my dreams.

At first, everything thrived, until vegetables began disappearing — a tomato here, a cucumber there. One morning,

I found the entire garden stripped clean. Heartbroken, Sarah and I set up cameras. The footage revealed the thief: our neighbor, Wilma.

Instead of lashing out, I chose a different lesson. I visited Wilma with a basket of fresh produce and cheerfully said,

“Since you enjoy my garden so much, I thought I’d bring it to you!” Red-faced, she slammed the door.

Then I quietly told neighbors she might be struggling. Soon, everyone began bringing her meals out of kindness.

Days later, Wilma came to apologize. To make amends, she and her husband helped me replant my garden. By summer’s end, Wilma even started one of her own.

It wasn’t just about protecting vegetables — it was about teaching respect, kindness,

and the joy of growing something yourself. Peace returned, one tomato at a time.