When my grandsons, Kyle and Dylan, abandoned their grandmother Laura at a gas station after exploiting her generosity on a cherry blossom trip, I devised a lesson they’d never forget. They’d tricked her into paying for everything, then ditched her at midnight with no money or car. Furious, I arranged a “surprise” weekend at a wilderness retreat—no phones, cold showers, and hard labor like cleaning latrines and chopping firewood. I dropped them off, leaving them stunned with a schedule of grueling tasks.
By Sunday, they called, tearfully apologizing. Laura, initially hesitant, accepted their remorse. When I picked them up, they were sunburnt, sore, and humbled, hugging her tightly. They later repaid every cent, gave her a thoughtful photo album, and now check in regularly, even fixing our fence. Sometimes, the hardest lessons—delivered in silence—teach the most.
Leave a Reply