A woman who was kicked out of her wealthy father’s house at sixteen for marrying a poor man ended up living on the streets with her four children after her husband passed away.
Steve Walton was not happy when his butler informed him that Pastor Morris was waiting to see him. After a long flight from Singapore, he was tired and not interested in hearing the pastor’s lectures or requests for community support.
He had the pastor brought in and, showing his impatience, said, “Get on with it, man! What do you want this time?”
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Mr. Walton, I saw Susan,” the pastor said quietly. Steve’s heart nearly stopped. His only daughter had left his house nearly fifteen years ago, and he hadn’t seen her since.
“Susan?” Steve asked anxiously. “Where? When? How is she?”
“I was in Los Angeles, helping out a friend with a mission for the homeless, and that’s where I saw her,” the pastor explained.
“Was she volunteering? Did you tell her I’ve been looking for her?” Steve asked.
“No,” Pastor Morris replied gently. “She wasn’t a volunteer, Mr. Walton. She’s homeless. She and her children are living in a car.”
Steve felt so dizzy he had to sit down. “Homeless? My Susan? With children?” he gasped.
“I’m afraid so,” the pastor said. “And she wouldn’t even listen to me when I told her to come home.”
“But why?” Steve asked angrily. “She’s not still with that loser, is she?”
“Her husband passed away three years ago, Mr. Walton,” the pastor explained. “She told me she wouldn’t bring her children into a house where their father was hated.”
Steve Walton felt a wave of old rage sweep over him. Even fifteen years later, Susan was still defying him! He remembered the scene in his study, and how Susan had looked him in the eyes as he ranted.
“Pregnant at sixteen, and by the GARDENER!” he had screamed. “We are going to have THAT taken care of, and HE’S fired! You will never see that man again!”
“THAT is my baby, daddy,” Susan had said with a trembling voice. “And HE is the man I love. I’m going to marry him.”
“You marry that man and you’re on your own, Susan, do you hear?” Steve shouted furiously. “No more money, nothing! You marry him and you get out of my house!”
Susan had looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I love you, daddy,” she said. Then she turned and walked away. Despite hiring detectives to find her, no one had been able to trace her.
“How many children?” Steve asked Pastor Morris.
“Four,” the pastor replied. “Three girls and a boy. Beautiful children.”
Steve picked up his phone and demanded that his plane be prepared. “Pastor, would you come with me to Los Angeles and take me to my little girl?” he asked quietly.
The pastor nodded, and within two hours, he and Steve were on Steve’s private jet heading south. When they landed, a limo was waiting to take them to a parking lot outside a large mall.
At the far end of the lot, they found a pickup truck with a tent set up in the back. Pastor Morris had told Steve that after Susan’s husband died in a work accident, the insurance company refused to pay out, and the bank foreclosed on their home.
Susan had packed her children and their few belongings into the old pickup. She worked as a cleaner at the mall and used the mall’s facilities. She also bought leftover food from the restaurants at the end of the day.
Despite everything, Susan managed to keep her four children fed, clean, and in school. As Steve and the pastor approached the truck, they heard cheerful voices and laughter. Two children tumbled out of the back, excited to see them.
The oldest girl, around fourteen, was laughing as she tickled a boy of about seven. When Steve and Pastor Morris approached, the children stopped and stared.
“Mom!” the girl shouted. “That old preacher friend of yours is here!”
From inside the tent, a familiar voice asked, “Preacher Morris?” Susan then emerged, and Steve saw the shock on her face when she saw him standing next to the pastor.
“Daddy?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.
Steve was taken aback. His daughter was only thirty-one, but she looked much older. Her face was lined with worry and hardship, and her hands were rough from hard work.
“Susan,” Steve cried. “Look at you! Look at what HE did to my princess! I wanted so much more for you! And you married that loser! What could he have given you? Poverty?”
Susan shook her head and said, “He loved me, Daddy, and he gave me four beautiful children. He passed away, and I had nowhere to go, but I’ve done my best for my kids. I will always love their father, just like I’ve always loved you.”
Steve found tears streaming down his face. “Forgive me, Susan,” he sobbed. “Please forgive me. Come home, I want you all to come home with me. Let me help you take care of the children!”
As Steve held his weeping daughter, he knew that everything would be alright. Susan introduced him to his three granddaughters and then placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And this,” she smiled, “is little Stevie!”
“You named him after me?” Steve asked, amazed. “After what I did?”
Susan looked at her father and said softly, “I love you, Daddy. Don’t you know that?”
That afternoon, they all flew back to Texas together. It marked the start of a new, better life for the whole family.
What can we learn from this story?
– **Love Your Children Unconditionally:** Steve’s anger at Susan for loving someone poor led him to lose his daughter. Accept your children no matter who they love.
– **Don’t Judge People by Wealth:** Steve didn’t like Susan’s husband because he was poor, but he was a loving and dedicated father. Don’t judge people by their money or status.
Share this story with your friends. It might bring them hope and inspiration.
My SIL Threw Away All My Brothers Hawaiian Shirts Instead of Packing Them As Promised, Unaware I Saw Her
When I caught my sister-in-law, Iris, secretly tossing my brother Donny’s beloved Hawaiian shirts instead of packing them, I knew I had to act fast. Rather than confront her, I quietly rescued them and planned the perfect prank. Little did Iris know, her “trash” was about to make a memorable comeback!
I pulled into my brother’s nearly empty house, where the moving truck had already left for Oklahoma. Iris was finishing the last bit of packing, and I was there to help with the final touches.
I knocked on the door but didn’t wait for a reply. I never did.
“Hey! I brought coffee!” I called out as I walked inside. The empty house echoed back at me, but there was no response. Iris was probably upstairs, so I headed to the bedroom to find her.
As I neared the door, which was slightly ajar, I saw her crouched over a trash bag, focused on her task. And that’s when I saw it—bright, familiar colors peeking out from the bag. Donny’s Hawaiian shirts! My heart skipped a beat.
I froze, trying to process what I was seeing. Iris teased Donny relentlessly about those shirts, but throwing them out? I stood there, watching in disbelief as she stuffed another one into the trash like it was worthless.
Those shirts weren’t just clothes to Donny—they were part of his personality. He loved them, and there was no way he’d ever agree to throw them out. My anger flared, but I forced myself to think fast.
“Iris!” I called out, nudging the door open with my foot and stepping inside. “What are you up to?”
Her eyes widened in shock as she quickly tried to close the bag. “Candy! You’re early. I was just, uh… throwing out some trash.”
I glanced at the trash bag stuffed with Donny’s favorite shirts and smirked. She was caught red-handed, and an idea began to form.
“Take a break,” I said, thrusting the coffee into her hands. “I’ll take out the trash for you, and then you can tell me what else you need help with.”
Before she could protest, I snatched up the bag and headed outside. Once safely by my car, I tossed the shirts into my trunk, chuckling to myself. This was going to be the best prank ever.
Later that evening, I texted my parents with a plan. Surprise housewarming party at Donny and Iris’s new place. Meet in Oklahoma this Saturday. 🎉
My parents loved surprises, especially the kind that made their kids squirm with embarrassment. Little did they know, I had something even more exciting planned for the party.
We arrived at Donny and Iris’s new home late that Saturday afternoon, with the Oklahoma sun beginning to dip. Iris answered the door, her surprise thinly masked. I could tell she wasn’t ready for this.
“Surprise!” we all shouted, balloons in hand. My mom charged in, already asking questions and complimenting the house while nearly knocking over a lamp.
Donny emerged from the kitchen, grinning in his usual laid-back way, though noticeably without one of his signature floral shirts. He wore a plain tee instead, which made me snicker inside.
“Wow, you guys came all the way out here!” he exclaimed, giving me a quick hug. “I just wish the airline hadn’t lost my luggage. All my favorite Hawaiian shirts are gone. Just vanished.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing, especially when I noticed Iris fidgeting nervously behind him. Her expression was priceless.
“You mean your Hawaiian shirts?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah! Man, I loved those shirts,” Donny said, clearly disappointed.
“They were definitely… memorable,” I agreed, shooting a sideways glance at Iris, whose face had turned a shade paler. She avoided eye contact, and I couldn’t resist pushing the joke further. “I bet Iris really misses seeing you in them, huh?”
She forced a smile and nodded. “Oh, yes. Those… shirts.”
By the time we got to the gift exchange, Iris was practically buzzing with nerves. After Mom and Dad gave Donny some practical housewarming gifts, it was my turn.
“Here you go, bro. Thought you might like this,” I said, handing him a framed childhood photo of the two of us, Donny proudly wearing one of his cherished Hawaiian shirts.
His face lit up as he showed it to everyone. “Look at us! Man, I used to love that shirt.”
“And speaking of shirts,” I added with a grin, “there’s one more thing.” I dramatically pulled the trash bag from behind me, the one Iris had thought was long gone.
Donny’s eyes widened as I pulled out the first of his Hawaiian shirts, holding it up like a trophy. “No. Freaking. Way!” he shouted in disbelief, grabbing the shirt from me and running his hands over it like a lost treasure. “How did you…?”
I winked. “I have my ways.”
Iris stood frozen, her mouth slightly open, trying to process what had just happened. She had no idea how to respond, but the realization that she had been caught slowly dawned on her face.
After the excitement settled down, Iris pulled me aside, her face flushed. “You saw me, didn’t you?” she asked, crossing her arms in frustration.
I feigned innocence. “Saw what?”
She sighed, rubbing her temples. “The shirts. You saw me throw them out.”
“Maybe,” I teased. “Looks like he really missed them, huh?”
She groaned. “I can’t stand those loud, tacky things. But seeing how happy they make him… maybe I was wrong.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Relationships are all about compromise. Besides, no one’s asking you to wear them.”
She laughed, finally relaxing a little. “And I guess you weren’t going to let that ‘lost luggage’ story go, huh?”
I grinned. “What can I say? I live for a good prank.”
Later, Iris came clean in front of the whole family, admitting what she had done. She confessed that she found the shirts ridiculous but, seeing how much they meant to Donny, she was sorry.
Donny just laughed it off. “Hey, I love my shirts, but I love you more,” he said, giving her a kiss. “I’ll save them for weekends, just for you.”
In the end, the Hawaiian shirts became more than just a wardrobe choice—they turned into a family joke, a reminder of Donny’s quirky charm and the little compromises we make for the people we love.
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