Gaster's Exempla (1924), No. 330, tells a folktale of two brothers. One was rich. The other was poor and had many children. The rich brother took one of the poor brother's sons — a boy named Isaac — in exchange for a single measure of grain, and raised him.
Isaac grew up in his uncle's household and fell in love with his cousin, his uncle's daughter. A local rabbi coached him: declare your love openly, but with a drawn sword between you as a sign of restraint. Isaac did so. The uncle agreed to the match. The aunt did not. She had been planning to marry her daughter to her own brother — Isaac's father. So she gave each young man one hundred dinars and sent them in opposite directions, telling them to return in one year and show who had prospered most.
Isaac's ship was wrecked. He was washed up on a small island where two herbs grew — one that caused a certain illness, and one that cured it. By chance, he recognized both. News reached him that the king of a nearby land was stricken with exactly that illness. Isaac cured the king with the second herb. The king made him ruler of a town.
A year to the day after leaving, Isaac returned to his uncle's house in official robes, on the arm of his former poverty. His cousin was being betrothed to his father that very day. Isaac interrupted the ceremony. The uncle had returned from his own successful travels and stood in the room as well. Isaac married his cousin on the spot. The aunt's scheming collapsed, her brother returned to his own wife, and the poor nephew, who had been sold for a measure of grain, wound up a ruler married to the woman he loved.
Providence, the story teaches, does not always redistribute at the speed we would prefer. But it does redistribute.