After her husband passed away, she found herself homeless along with her four children.
A wealthy father disowned his daughter at sixteen because she was involved with a poor man.
Steve Walton was irritated when his butler told him Pastor Morris was visiting. Fresh back from a lengthy trip to Singapore, Steve wasn’t in the mood to deal with the pastor’s usual appeals for help.
He had the pastor brought in and waved him toward a seat impatiently. “Get straight to the point,” he barked. “What do you want this time?”
“Mr. Walton, I’ve seen Susan,” the pastor said quietly, causing Steve’s heart to nearly stop. His only daughter had left home nearly fifteen years ago, and Steve hadn’t heard from her since.
“Susan?” Steve gasped. “Where? When? How is she?”
“I was in Los Angeles, assisting a friend with a homeless outreach,” the pastor explained.
“Was she volunteering?” Steve asked, hopeful. “Did you tell her I’ve been searching for her?”
“No,” Pastor Morris replied gently. “She’s not volunteering. She’s homeless, Mr. Walton. She and her children are living out of a car.”
Steve swayed and sank into a chair. “Homeless? Susan? And children?” he whispered.
“Yes,” the pastor confirmed. “And she refused to come home when I asked.”
“Why?” Steve demanded, frustrated. “Is she still with that man?”
“Her husband passed away three years ago,” the pastor explained. “She said she wouldn’t bring her children back to a home where their father wasn’t respected.”
Steve’s anger flared. After all these years, Susan was still defying him! He recalled the day in his office when he had yelled at her. “Pregnant at sixteen and with the gardener!” he had shouted. “We’ll handle that—and he’s fired! You won’t see him ever again!”
“That’s my baby, Dad,” Susan had replied with a trembling voice. “I love him. I’m going to marry him.”
“If you marry him, you’re on your own!” Steve had screamed. “No more money! You’re out of this house!”
With tears in her eyes, Susan said, “I love you, Dad,” then walked away. Despite hiring detectives, Steve never found her.
“How many children does she have?” he asked.
“Four,” Pastor Morris said. “Three daughters and one son. Beautiful kids.”
Steve grabbed his phone and ordered his private jet ready. “Pastor, will you come with me to Los Angeles? Help me find my daughter?” he asked quietly.
The pastor agreed, and two hours later, they were aboard Steve’s jet flying south. Upon arrival, a limousine was waiting, and the pastor directed the driver to a large mall parking lot. At the far end, they spotted a pickup truck with a tent set up in the back.
Pastor Morris explained that after Susan’s husband died in an accident, the insurance company refused to pay, and the bank repossessed their house. Susan had packed her children and their belongings into the truck. She now worked as a cleaner at the mall, using its restrooms and buying leftover food from restaurants. Despite everything, she kept her children fed, clean, and in school.
As they neared the truck, they heard laughter and cheerful voices. Two kids ran out—a teenage girl laughing as she tickled a young boy around seven years old. The children froze when they saw Steve and the pastor.
“Mom!” the girl called. “That preacher friend of yours is here!”
A voice came from inside the tent. “Pastor Morris?” Susan appeared, stunned to see her father beside the pastor. “Dad?” she whispered, tears in her eyes.
Steve was taken aback. His daughter, just thirty-one, looked years older. Her face showed signs of hardship, and her hands bore the marks of hard work.
“Susan,” Steve said, choking up, “look at what you’ve been through! I wanted so much better for you! And you married that man! What did he give you but poverty?”
Susan shook her head. “He loved me, Dad. He gave me four wonderful children. When he died, I had nowhere else to turn, but I’ve done my best for them. I love him, just as I’ve always loved you.”
Tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks. “Forgive me, Susan,” he sobbed. “Please come home. Let me help you and the children.”
He embraced his daughter as she wept. Susan introduced her three granddaughters and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is little Stevie,” she smiled.
“You named him after me?” Steve asked, surprised. “After everything?”
“I love you, Dad,” she said softly. “Always have.”
That afternoon, they flew home to Texas together. It was the start of a new beginning for all of them.
