She was dedicated to her grandparents and sacrificed her future to look after them but all they left her was an old umbrella. But there was something hidden in it.
Lesley, George, and Wilson Farrel’s parents had died in a car crash when they were children, and their grandparents stepped forward to raise them. George had been eleven, Wilson nine, and Lesley just five.
Their grandparents had carefully stretched their parent’s insurance money to pay for the older boys’ education, but when it was time for Lesley to go to college, her grandmother became very ill.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
There was no way Lesley was going to turn her back on her beloved grandparents, so she enrolled in the local community college and attended classes when she could.
Unfortunately, her grandmother passed away, but Wilson and George didn’t come to the funeral. They sent regrets and flowers, but they were clearly not interested in taking on responsibility for the man who’d raised them.
God’s justice moves slowly but it never fails
So Lesley took care of her grandfather, and when two years later she met William and decided to get married, she moved into a small house down the street. She continued to cook and care for her grandfather right up until his last days.
At no time did her brothers, now both wealthy successful men, ever ask if she or her grandfather needed help, financial or otherwise. “It’s not that we need them,” Lesley told her husband, “but it just shows such ingratitude!
“My grandparents were in their seventies and they took on three kids. Instead of enjoying their retirement, they took on the work and responsibility and my brothers don’t seem to care!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“Hun,” William said tenderly, “what goes around comes around. God’s justice moves slowly but it never fails!”
Lesley shook her head. “I don’t believe that!” she said. “They are nasty ungrateful men and we are struggling, how is that justice?” But William just shook his head and told her to be patient.
Lesley’s grandfather became frailer and frailer, until the sad day when she came in to bring him breakfast and found that he’d passed away in his sleep. Lesley was devastated.
She called her brothers and distant family and made the arrangements for the funeral. She thought her brothers wouldn’t come to her grandfather’s funeral but they surprised her.
That afternoon, Lesley understood Wilson and George’s willingness to attend: they wanted their share of the inheritance. Their grandfather’s lawyer had asked them to meet him at the old house.
Wilson and George looked around appreciatively. “This house will be worth quite a bit on the market!” said George.
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“Yes,” said Wilson. “Especially if we market it as a potential bed & breakfast!”
But the lawyer shook his head. “I’m afraid your grandfather has left the house and its contents to the Children’s Association,” he said. “As a shelter for at-risk children.”
“What?” cried Wilson angrily. “What about US?”
“Yes,” said George, “We’re his flesh and blood! Didn’t he care about our welfare?”
“Stop it!” cried Lesley. “Grandpa did everything he could for us, everything! It’s his house, and it was his right to dispose of it as he wished.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
The lawyer said, “Your grandfather did leave some tokens of his affection,” he said, and he placed an ornate silver pocket watch, a silver chain with an antique cross, and an old dark green umbrella on the table.
Wilson picked up the pocket watch greedily. “The old man was holding out on us!” he said. “This watch is from the time of the Civil War. It might be worth something!”
“As per your grandfather’s instructions, you will each choose an item according to your age: so George, you choose first, then Wilson, then Lesley,” the lawyer explained.
Wilson frowned crossly as George picked up the pocket watch, then he stepped forward and claimed the silver cross. “Looks like you get the umbrella, Lesley!” he said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Lesley picked up the umbrella and touched the heavy wooden handle lovingly. “This was grandpa’s favorite, you know. He said it was the best for a rainy day!”
George laughed cruelly. “Let’s hope it still works,” he said. “It’s raining now!” Lesley peered outside. It was pouring!
“In that case, this umbrella is just perfect,” Lesley said and walked to the front door. She opened the door and unfurled the umbrella and something fluttered down and stuck in her hair, then something else…
Lesley stared in astonishment as dozens of bills fell out of the folds of the old umbrella. Geoge scoffed. “So that was the old man’s rainy day fund?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Lesley picked up a note and gasped. “This is a $1000 bill! I’d never seen one before!”
“What?” Wilson stepped forward and bent to pick up a bill but the lawyer stopped him.
“The umbrella and its contents belong to your sister,” he said coldly. “You and your brother made your choices.”
George was furious. “But there are dozens of $1000 bills! That’s a lot of money!”
Lesley was looking at the bills closely. “They look brand new as if they’ve just been printed!” she said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“Your grandfather and your great-grandfather collected those bills for decades, Lesley, up until they were withdrawn from circulation in the late 1960s,” the lawyer said. “These mint-condition bills are collector’s items. They are each worth between $10,000 and $12,000…”
Lesley was stunned! Her grandfather had left her a valuable legacy after all. With the money from the sale of the bills, she and William paid off their house, bought a new car, and started their own rainy day fund.
Meanwhile, Lesley’s grandfather’s old house became a shelter and helped many sad and lonely children find happiness. As for Wilson and George, they were outraged and declared that Lesley had cheated them out of their inheritance.
What can we learn from this story?
- Greed can lead to bad judgment. Wilson and George’s greed led them to mistakenly pick out the least valuable item.
- God’s justice moves slowly but it never fails. Wilson and George got what they deserved and Lesley was rewarded for her kindness.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a young mother who finds an unexpected windfall inside a second-hand stroller she bought for her baby.
Entitled Customer Threw Fresh Juice at Me – I’m Not a Doormat, So I Taught Her a Lesson She Won’t Forget…
When an entitled customer threw her drink in my face, humiliating me in front of everyone, she assumed I’d just take it quietly. Little did she know, she was in for a surprise—and a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
That morning, I stepped into the health food store, the familiar scent of fresh produce and herbal teas greeting me. It was the start of another day at work, where I’d been earning a living for the past year. As I tied my apron, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different today.
“Hey, Grace! Ready for another thrilling day of juice-making?” my coworker Ally joked from behind the counter.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yep, gotta keep those entitled customers happy, right?”
But the knot in my stomach told me otherwise. There was one customer who made our jobs miserable every time she came in.
We had dubbed her “Miss Pompous,” and it was a fitting name. She walked in like she owned the place, treating us like we were beneath her.
As I began my shift, I tried to put her out of my mind. I needed this job. It wasn’t just about me—it was about my family. My mom’s medical bills were piling up, and my younger sister was counting on me to help with college expenses. Quitting wasn’t an option.
A few minutes later, Ally leaned in close. “Heads up,” she whispered. “Miss Pompous just pulled into the parking lot.”
My stomach dropped. “Great,” I muttered. “Just what I needed to start my day.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in she walked, her designer heels clicking like a countdown to disaster. Without even acknowledging me, she strutted up to the counter and barked her order.
“Carrot juice. Now.”
I forced a smile. “Of course, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As I worked, I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. My hands began to shake under the pressure. Finally, I handed her the juice.
She took one sip and her face twisted in disgust. “What is this watered-down garbage?” she screeched. Before I could react, she hurled the entire drink at my face.
The cold juice splashed across my cheeks, dripping down my chin. I stood there, stunned, as she continued to rant. “Are you trying to poison me?” she demanded.
I blinked, wiping juice from my eyes. “It’s the same recipe we always use,” I stammered.
“Make it again,” she snapped. “And this time, use your brain.”
My face burned with humiliation as everyone in the store turned to watch. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let her see me cry.
Just then, my manager, Mr. Weatherbee, appeared. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, though his concern seemed more for the loss of a customer than for me.
Miss Pompous turned on him. “Your employee can’t even make a simple juice! I demand a refund and a replacement.”
To my disbelief, Mr. Weatherbee began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’ll remake your juice immediately, free of charge.” Then he turned to me. “Grace, be more careful next time.”
I stood there, dumbfounded. My jaw dropped. “But sir, I—”
“Just get the carrots, Grace,” he interrupted, “and remake the juice.”
Miss Pompous smirked at me, clearly enjoying my humiliation. I felt a surge of anger. For a split second, I wanted to throw my apron down and walk out. But then I thought of my mom and sister—I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
So, I took a deep breath and made a decision. I wasn’t going to let her win.
I met Miss Pompous’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She thought she could buy respect with her money, that she could trample over people without consequences. Well, not this time.
As Mr. Weatherbee walked away, I reached into the fridge, bypassing the usual carrots. Instead, I grabbed the biggest, gnarliest one I could find. It was tough and unwieldy, perfect for what I had in mind.
“Just a moment,” I said, sweetly, as I fed the oversized carrot into the juicer. The machine groaned in protest before spraying juice everywhere—across the counter, the floor, and best of all, onto Miss Pompous’s designer handbag.
She shrieked, snatching her bag and frantically trying to wipe off the bright orange juice. “My bag!” she cried. “You stupid girl! Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “It was an accident, I swear.”
Her face turned beet red. “You ruined my three-thousand-dollar purse! I want your manager!”
Trying not to laugh, I gestured vaguely toward the store. “I think he’s helping a customer over there.”
As she stomped off in search of Mr. Weatherbee, I ducked into the stockroom to hide my smile. From my hiding spot, I watched as she stormed out, still clutching her dripping bag, leaving a trail of carrot juice in her wake.
I thought it was over, but I knew Miss Pompous wasn’t the type to let things go.
Sure enough, the next morning, she burst into the store, demanding to see the owner. When Mr. Larson, the kind, older man who owned the store, came out, she launched into a tirade, insisting I be fired and demanding compensation for her ruined purse.
Calmly, Mr. Larson replied, “Let’s check the security footage.”
My heart skipped a beat. I had completely forgotten about the cameras.
We gathered around the monitor as the footage played, showing Miss Pompous throwing juice in my face and the “accident” with her purse. The room fell silent.
Mr. Larson turned to her. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation. What I see here is an assault on my employee. If anyone should be considering legal action, it’s us.”
Miss Pompous sputtered in disbelief. “But… my purse!”
“I suggest you leave,” Mr. Larson said firmly. “And don’t come back.”
With one final glare, Miss Pompous stormed out.
Once she was gone, Mr. Larson turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “That was just an accident, right, Grace?”
“Of course, sir,” I said with a grin. “Why would I intentionally ruin a customer’s belongings?”
He chuckled and walked away. Ally gave me a high five. “You stood up to her, Grace! You showed her who’s boss.”
That night, as I shared the story with my mom and sister, I realized something important: standing up for myself hadn’t just put Miss Pompous in her place—it reminded me of my own worth.
Have you ever had to deal with someone like Miss Pompous? Share your stories in the comments. Together, we can take on the “Karens” of the world!
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