Steve Walton was tired. He’d just flown back from Singapore, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to Pastor Morris. He had a headache from the long flight and wasn’t in the mood for another one of the pastor’s endless requests for donations to help the community. His butler informed him the pastor was waiting, so Steve sighed and waved him in.
“Get on with it, man!” Steve said, barely looking up as the pastor entered. “What is it you want this time?”
Pastor Morris didn’t seem bothered by Steve’s sharp tone. He spoke quietly, “Mr. Walton, I saw Susan.”
Steve’s heart stopped. His daughter, Susan, had left his home fifteen years ago, and he hadn’t seen her since. “Susan?” he said, his voice shaky. “Where? What is she doing? How is she?”
“I was in Los Angeles, helping a friend who works with homeless people,” Pastor Morris explained. “That’s where I saw her.”
Steve frowned, confused. “She was a volunteer? Did you tell her I’ve been looking for her?” he asked.
“No,” the pastor said gently. “She wasn’t a volunteer, Mr. Walton. She’s homeless. She and her children are living in a car.”
Steve’s world seemed to spin. “Homeless? My Susan? And with children?” he gasped, his voice filled with disbelief.
“I’m afraid so,” Pastor Morris said. “And when I told her to come home, she refused.”
Steve’s anger flared. “But why? She’s not with that man anymore, is she?”
“Her husband died three years ago,” Pastor Morris said. “She told me she wouldn’t come back to a house where her husband was despised.”
Steve’s anger burned hotter. Even after all these years, Susan was still defying him. He remembered the day she told him she was pregnant at sixteen. “Pregnant at sixteen, by the GARDENER!” he had shouted. “We’re going to take care of that, and HE’S fired! You’ll never see him again!”
Susan had stood firm, her voice trembling but determined. “That’s my baby, daddy. And HE is the man I love. I’m going to marry him.”
Steve had been furious. “You marry that man, and you’re on your own, Susan! No more money, nothing! You marry him and you get out of my house!”
Susan had looked at him, tears in her eyes. “I love you, daddy,” she had said before walking away, never to return.
“How many children does she have?” Steve asked, his voice tight.
“Four,” Pastor Morris answered. “Three girls and a boy. Beautiful children.”
Steve’s heart ached. Without hesitation, he picked up his phone and gave orders for his plane to be ready. “Pastor, will you come with me to Los Angeles? Take me to my daughter?” he asked quietly.
Pastor Morris agreed, and within two hours, they were on Steve’s private jet, heading for Los Angeles.
When they arrived, the pastor directed Steve to a parking lot at a large mall. There, at the far end, was an old pickup truck with a tent set up in the back. Pastor Morris had told Steve how Susan’s husband had died in a work accident, and the insurance company had refused to pay.
The bank had foreclosed on their home, and Susan had moved into the truck with her children. She worked as a cleaner at the mall, and despite everything, she had kept her children fed, clean, and in school.
As they approached the truck, they heard the sound of laughter. Two children tumbled out of the back. The oldest girl, about fourteen, was laughing as she tickled a boy of about seven.
“Mom!” the girl called out. “That old preacher of yours is here!”
A familiar voice called from inside the tent, “Preacher Morris?”
Then Susan climbed out, her eyes widening with shock when she saw Steve standing next to the pastor. “Daddy?” she whispered.
Steve was stunned. His daughter looked so much older than her thirty-one years. Her face was worn with hardship, her hands rough from work. “Susan,” he said, his voice breaking. “Look at you! Look what HE did to my princess! I wanted so much more for you! And you married that man! What could he give you? Poverty?”
Susan shook her head, her voice steady. “He loved me, daddy, and he gave me four beautiful children. He died, and I had nowhere to go. But I’ve done everything I could for my kids. I will always love their father, just like I’ve always loved you.”
Steve felt a rush of emotion and pulled Susan into his arms. “Forgive me, Susan,” he sobbed. “Please forgive me. Come home. Let me help you take care of the kids.”
Susan smiled through her tears and introduced Steve to her three granddaughters. Then she placed her hand on the shoulder of the youngest boy. “And this,” she said with a smile, “is little Stevie!”
Steve stared in surprise. “You named him after me?”
Susan nodded softly. “After everything, I still love you, daddy. Don’t you know that?”
That afternoon, they all flew back to Texas together, a new beginning for them all—a better life.
Share your thoughts in the comments!
