Mike scanned groceries with a heavy heart, his tired eyes hiding the weight of endless medical bills. His mother, Susan, was ill, and despite grueling shifts, Mike couldn’t keep up. At their small apartment, Susan’s weak smile greeted him. “You’re working too hard,” she said. “I’ve got this,” Mike replied, masking his panic. In his room, unpaid bills taunted him, and he noticed a box holding his grandmother Ruth’s Bible, inherited with a note: “Open when life gets rough.” He’d ignored it, bitter about her will.
Ruth, a pillar of faith, had clashed with teenage Mike over church. At 18, he refused her Sunday pleas. “I’m done with sermons,” he’d argued. “Then I’m done visiting,” Ruth said, leaving. She died soon after, and at her funeral, Mike felt like an outsider, regretting their silence. Her will left everything to her church, giving Mike only the Bible. Furious, he saw it as a slight for skipping services, stashing it away. Now, with Susan’s health fading, he muttered, “It’s rough, Grandma,” and opened it.
Inside, $100 bills fluttered out, tucked between pages. Thousands poured from the worn book. Mike cried, overwhelmed. “Why hide it?” he whispered, recalling Ruth’s soft hymns and patient stories. His teenage anger had blinded him to her love. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. At the hospital, he told Susan, “Grandma left us money in her Bible!” Her eyes sparkled. “That’s Ruth’s way,” she said. “She loved you.” Mike confessed his guilt, but Susan reassured him, “She forgave you.”
The money paid Susan’s bills, lifting their burden. Mike took fewer shifts and started accounting classes, chasing a brighter path. Ruth’s secret gift showed her unwavering love, teaching Mike that even in conflict, family bonds endure, offering hope when life feels impossible.
