Telha
A woman was disowned by her wealthy father at sixteen for being in a relationship with a poor man.
Steve Walton wasn’t happy when his butler informed him that Pastor Morris had come to visit. He had just returned from a long trip from Singapore and wasn’t in the mood to deal with the pastor’s usual requests for assistance.
He had the pastor brought in and waved impatiently. “Get to the point,” he snapped. “What do you want now?”
“Mr. Walton, I’ve seen Susan,” the pastor said softly, and Steve’s heart nearly stopped. His only daughter had left home almost fifteen years earlier. Steve hadn’t seen her since.
“Susan?” Steve exclaimed. “Where? When? How is she?”
“I was in Los Angeles, helping a friend with a mission for the homeless. That’s where I saw her,” the pastor explained.
“Was she volunteering?” Steve asked eagerly. “Did you tell her I’ve been trying to find her?”
“No,” Pastor Morris said gently. “She wasn’t volunteering. She’s homeless, Mr. Walton. She and her children are living in a car.”
Steve felt dizzy and sat down. “Homeless? Susan? And children?” he gasped.
“Yes,” the pastor confirmed. “And she wouldn’t listen when I asked her to come home.”
“But why?” Steve asked, frustrated. “Is she still with that man?”
“Her husband died three years ago,” the pastor explained. “She said she wouldn’t bring her kids into a home where their father wasn’t respected.”
Steve felt a surge of anger. After all these years, Susan was still defying him! He remembered the day in his office. Susan had stood resolutely as he yelled. “Pregnant at sixteen, and with the gardener!” he had shouted. “We’ll deal with that, and he’s fired! You’ll never see him again!”
“That’s my baby, Dad,” Susan had said in a shaky voice. “And 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’ll be out of this house!”
With tears in her eyes, Susan had said, “I love you, Dad,” then walked out. Despite hiring detectives, Steve had never been able to find her.
“How many children does she have?” he asked the pastor.
“Four,” replied Pastor Morris. “Three girls and a boy. Lovely children.”
Steve grabbed his phone and instructed his private jet to be 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 on Steve’s jet heading south. A limo awaited them upon landing, and the pastor directed the driver to a parking lot near a large mall. At the far end of the lot, they spotted a pickup truck with a tent in the back.
Pastor Morris explained that after Susan’s husband died in an accident, the insurance company had refused to pay, and the bank had taken their house. Susan had packed up her children and their belongings in the truck. She now worked as a cleaner at the mall, using the mall’s bathrooms and purchasing leftover food from restaurants at the end of the day. Despite her hardships, she kept her children fed, clean, and in school.
As they approached the truck, they heard happy voices and laughter. Two kids ran out from the back. The older girl, around fourteen, was laughing as she tickled a younger boy, about seven. The children froze when they saw Steve and the pastor.
“Mom!” the girl called out. “That preacher friend of yours is here!”
A voice came from inside the tent. “Pastor Morris?” Then Susan emerged, her face full of shock when she saw her father standing next to the pastor. “Dad?” she said, her eyes welling with tears.
Steve was taken aback. His daughter, only thirty-one, looked far older. Her face showed signs of wear from hardship, and her hands bore the marks of hard labor.
“Susan,” Steve cried, “look at what he did to you! I wanted so much more for you! And you married that loser! What did he give you? Poverty?”
Susan shook her head. “He loved me, Dad. He gave me four wonderful children. When he died, I had nowhere to go, but I’ve done my best for my kids. I will always love him, just like I’ve always loved you.”
Tears streamed down Steve’s face. “Forgive me, Susan,” he sobbed. “Please, come home. Let me help you and the children!”
He embraced his weeping daughter, knowing things would be better now. Susan introduced him to his three granddaughters, then placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And this is little Stevie!” she smiled.
“You named him after me?” Steve asked, surprised. “After what I did?”
“I love you, Dad,” she said softly. “I always have.”
That afternoon, they all flew back to Texas together. It was the beginning of a new chapter for all of them.
