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?”
“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 Mom Thought No Man Was Good Enough for Me Until One Invited Her on a Date — Story of the Day
At 37, I thought I could finally date in peace until my Mom crashed dinner with a list of rules… and somehow ended up on a date with my boyfriend.
I always knew I had a mom. But sometimes, it felt like my mom was my whole life. I was 37, but that didn’t stop her from asking me every single day:
“Are you wearing warm socks?” or “Are you sure he looked at you with respect and not… interest?”
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I worked in a museum, adored art history, lived in my own apartment, had a bank account, and had two degrees… Yet every time I saw “Mom calling” on my phone, I instinctively straightened my posture.
She controlled everything. From when I should go to bed to what color I painted my nails.
Once, I ordered salmon delivery, and 20 minutes later, she called.
“I saw him go into your house. Was that him?”
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“Mom, are you spying on my house?”
“I just sat in the car nearby. In case of suspicious movement.”
She had binoculars. And a notebook. She called it “just in case.”
As a child, it was cute. At 20, it got annoying. By 30, I began to question our “normal.”
At 37, I met Theo.
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For the first time in my life, I didn’t tell her right away.
It was my first grown-up secret. And, of course, it lasted exactly three days. Until Mom ruined everything.
But I’ll tell you that in a moment.
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***
I was preparing for my dinner with Theo. I baked a pie I found online, not from Mom’s sacred recipe book.
Even if it came out a bit burnt and the chicken was a little dry — those were my mistakes. My life.
I could already imagine my mother’s face if she saw the meal — a guaranteed explosion. I smiled quietly to myself while checking the candles.
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A week earlier, she declared, “I want to meet him. In person. At my house. At the table. With my questions.”
“Mom, let me be an adult for once. I’ll decide when to introduce you.”
She backed off for once. It felt odd, but I didn’t think much of it. Big mistake.
That night, Theo came over for the first time. He brought tulips, non-alcoholic wine (knowing I was tired after work), and a cake from the bakery I always visit during lunch.
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“I just wanted to get everything right,” he smiled, setting the plates.
“Theo, with you, it always feels right.”
Something warm and calm bloomed in my chest. We talked for hours. Laughed. Dreamed.
“Imagine… a little house by an old lighthouse,” he said.
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“And in the basement — an archive of old love letters.”
“You’d preserve them, and I’d write new ones.”
Candles were burning low. Music hummed softly. He touched my hand.
“I thought after all the heartbreaks, nothing would ever happen again. And then you came along…”
And at that exact moment…
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“ACHOO!”
From the closet. We froze.
“You’re not alone?” Theo shot me a look.
I got up. Opened the closet.
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“Mooom?!”
She sat in the dark. With a headlamp. And a thermos.
“What… what are you doing?!”
“Oh, hi! I was just checking if you’re storing things in your closet without lavender,” she mumbled, not even trying to sound convincing.
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“You broke into my apartment?!”
“I was just making sure. Listening. Evaluating. I didn’t interfere!”
Theo, somehow, still managed to smile politely.
“Good evening. I’m Theo. Very nice to meet you.”
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“Theo. Short. Like most male patients,” Mom said, sitting on the couch. “Sit. Let’s get to know each other.”
I wanted to run. But Theo sat down. Bravely.
And the interrogation began.
“Do you have a job?”
“Yes. I teach literature…”
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“Do you work 9 to 5?”
“Flexible hours.”
“So, no structure. Got it. Do you drink alcohol?”
“A glass of wine, sometimes…”
“Sometimes means regularly.”
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“Mom…”
“Quiet, Eliza. I’m asking.”
Then she turned back to him again, “How many women before my daughter?”
“I… excuse me?”
“Are you deaf?”
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“No, I just think that’s a bit…”
“You should always think. Before approaching a woman with serious intentions.”
Theo looked at me. As if to ask, “Is this a joke?”
I tried to say with my eyes, “No. This is my life.”
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Mom stood up. “Now, a test.”
“What?” we both said.
“Wipe the table. With a sponge. No streaks. If there’s even one mark — you’re not for her.”
“Mom, enough!”
I was desperate and angry. But to my greatest surprise…
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Theo stood up, went to the kitchen, found the sponge… and wiped. It was perfect. She checked the surface and ran her finger across.
“Hmm. Survived. For now.”
Then, Mom dramatically handed Theo a paper. He smiled while skimming it, then slowly, he frowned before handing it to me.
“I think I should go. I’ll call you.”
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He left. Just like that. I finally looked down at the letters she wrote in thick black marker.
RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGTER
1. Have a job.
2. Understand I don’t like you.
3. I am EVERYWHERE.
4. You make HER cry — I make YOU cry.
5. Be home 30 min early.
6. SHE is my PRINCESS. Not your conquest.
7. I don’t mind going to jail.
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Daugter. With a typo. That said it all.
“Mom, it’s time for you to go.”
“Oh, sweetie, if he leaves at the first sign of trouble, is he even a man?”
“He didn’t leave me. He said he’d call.”
“Same thing.”
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“Maybe he just didn’t enjoy being around you?”
“You’re overreacting.”
“You crossed the line, Mom! Please, leave. I want to be alone.”
Mom’s words echoed in my head.
Has Theo really left… forever?
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***
Three days passed. No texts. No calls. I caved and sent him a short message:
“I’m sorry for how everything went. You didn’t deserve that.”
Seen. No reply.
And then — a knock at the door. I opened it, my heart racing. It was him and he was there with flowers.
“Come on. I’ve planned a date… for you and your Mom.”
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I blinked. “What?”
“Just trust me.”
We picked up my Mom. She barely got in the car before starting her usual commentary.
“Where are we going? I have to defrost the freezer!”
“Surprise,” Theo smiled.
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The first stop? His lecture.
Mom and I sat in the back. Theo stood in front of a class full of students, talking about love in literature.
“To be with someone doesn’t always feel poetic. But it’s always worth it.”
“Oh, I might fall asleep here,” Mom whispered.
“Mom. Shhh.”
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“If he’s trying to seduce us both with lectures — he failed.”
I gave her a look. But I held on. I knew this wasn’t all Theo had planned.
Next stop — a boat ride. On the lake, with a plaid blanket, strawberries, and tea in a thermos. (Yes, the exact tea Mom liked. He remembered.)
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“Yet another romantic coma,” Mom muttered, but this time, she was chuckling.
As we floated, Theo turned to her gently.
“So, Barbara. What are your hobbies?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Hobbies? Suspicion. Avoiding scams. Crosswords when I can’t sleep.”
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“I bet you’re good at them.”
“I once found three typos in The New York Times. Sent them a letter. And you didn’t find one.”
“You planted that typo?”
“Of course, sweetie — it was a test for your Theo.”
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“A test? For spelling? Mom, he’s a university professor!”
“No, more like a test for politeness,” she smirked. “He passed.”
Then she leaned to move closer to the edge… and slipped.
SPLASH.
She fell right into the water. I gasped. Then, she laughed so hard I nearly joined her.
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“YOU LAUGHING? I COULD DROWN!”
Theo jumped in without hesitation. Swam straight to her, helped her out, and wrapped her in a blanket. Soaked, shivering, furious — but secretly touched. Back on land, she was about to stomp away.
“I need to go home. I’m done.”
Theo calmly said, “There’s a sports store nearby. Time for a wardrobe refresh.”
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He disappeared. Came back ten minutes later with two matching athletic outfits. One for me. One for Mom. She held hers suspiciously.
“How did you guess my size?”
“Easy. You’re built perfectly for a Medium. Athletic and classic.”
She smiled. Barely. Quietly. But I saw it. She loved attention.
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We changed. And then — the climbing wall.
“Last challenge, I promise,” Theo grinned. “Climbing wall. One climbs, the other keeps the rope. Trust exercise.”
“Oh no. I’m 60!”
“Exactly. Perfect age for adventure.”
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To my absolute shock, Mom went first. Halfway up, she shouted:
“THEO! IF I FALL — I’M HAUNTING YOU!”
She didn’t fall. She reached the top. And when she came down, her eyes were gleaming.
“Okay, professor. Not bad.”
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“To end the day,” Theo said, “I’d like to make you both dinner. My place.”
Mom looked at me. “I have no choice. I need to see where this man lives. Maybe I’ll discover his secret lair.”
***
Theo’s house was beautiful. Clean. Warm. It smelled like citrus and cedar. I’d never been there before. And I was stunned.
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“Did you buy this on a teacher’s salary or rob a bank?” Mom asked, peeking into the kitchen.
“Started saving in high school. Plus I teach online courses on the side. Hard work pays off.”
“Well, look at you,” she muttered. Then, louder, “Does the fridge clean itself, or are you just this weird?”
Theo just laughed.
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We sat on the terrace. Theo grilled steaks nearby while the sun dipped low. Mom leaned back. Actually relaxed.
“You know… he’s not so bad, honey.”
“Really? Wow. Mom, you’re on fire today.”
“I was too distrustful. Because your father left. And I didn’t want you to get burned like I did.”
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“But Mom, it’s my life. I need to make my own mistakes. Walk my own path.”
“Theo is wonderful. It’s obvious he loves you. I mean, he jumped in a lake to save his future mother-in-law.”
We both laughed.
“And he could’ve dropped me on that climbing wall. But he didn’t. That’s some nerve control.”
Theo joined us, carrying two plates.
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“Hungry?”
“Always,” Mom said.
“Even for this? Because I have one more course.”
Theo knelt on one knee.
“Eliza, these past three months have been the best of my life. You’ve brought color back into everything. And your mom… we’re friends now.”
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“Almost,” Mom added.
“Not even the rule list could scare me away. I want to share my home, my life… all of it. And yes, even see your mom — but no more than twice a week.”
He laughed. I gasped.
“Will you marry me?”
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I blinked. Heart racing.
“Sweetheart,” Mom nudged me. “I’d have said yes already.”
“YES. Of course — yes!”
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***
Mom changed.
She started Pilates, bought her first floral swimsuit, and we no longer lived in a co-dependent loop. We were separate but always family.
Finally, our coffee dates felt like chats between old friends.
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She told me about her fitness class. I told her how Theo’d forgotten to take out the trash and called it a “creative delay.”
I finally became myself. And I think — she also did.
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