A little orphaned boy cries in church, begging God to send his mother to take him. The next minute, he turns pale when a voice answers from behind, saying, “I’ll take you.”
A string of untold emotions is attached to kids abandoned by their parents. Six-year-old Alan was one such neglected child who yearned to see his mother but never got that chance.
One day, in a serendipitous encounter in church, little Alan’s world shifted. He was crying, begging God to send his mom to him, telling God how different his world would be if his mother were with him.
Amid his loud cries and heartwarming argument with God, a strange voice spoke up from behind, offering to take him…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Dear Jesus, they say you hear everything. My guardians in the foster home told me to knock on your door and ask for everything I needed. I want my mommy. Can you please send her to me?”
“Alan, my boy! I’ve come for you. I’ve come to take you home.”
Alan cried as he folded his hands in prayer and stared at the crucifix. His eyes were painfully red, and his soft, pink cheeks were wet.
“My nanny told me you answer everyone’s prayers. Then why aren’t answering mine?”
The vestibule echoed with Alan’s loud cries. He was heartbroken. He did not want to return to the shelter, where kids often poked fun at him. They constantly taunted him saying his mom would never return and he had no choice but to wait for someone to adopt him.
“Nobody would be interested in taking a crybaby like you home,” were some of the harshest things he heard from fellow kids in the shelter. Alan cried his heart out that day, demanding God for an answer.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Alan, shhh!” his guardian, Nancy, interrupted. “It’s a church. Be quiet, and don’t cry. People are watching you. Please calm down.”
Alan tried to control his tears. He kept staring at the crucifix until he saw a woman with a child enter the church. He could no longer hold back his tears and started crying again.
“Jesus, you’re not answering me. Please, I want to be with my mommy like that girl. Nanny, why is Jesus not answering? You told me he answered all our prayers, but why hasn’t he told me anything?”
Nancy stared at the boy and grinned at his innocent questions.
“I’ll take you,” a woman’s voice suddenly said from behind them. “My baby, I’ve come for you. Please stop crying.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Alan and Nancy were startled. They turned around, and behind them was the woman with the child Alan had seen moments ago.
“Alan, my boy! I’ve come for you. I’ve come to take you home,” she cried.
“Who are you? How do you know the kid’s name?” questioned Nancy, holding Alan tight.
“My name is Annette. I’m Alan’s mother. I come here daily to see him and ensure he’s fine.”
“Your son? Do you have any proof?”
Annette took out a photo of her holding a newborn baby in her arms. “I left him at the shelter’s doorstep six years ago.”
“This is unbelievable. This was how Alan looked when I first picked him up from the doorstep on that rainy night. I heard the loud cries of a baby outside on the patio and found him there. Why did you leave your baby? How can you be such a heartless mother?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Annette began to cry and disclosed the most saddening story of her life.
Six years ago, she was 16 and accidentally fell pregnant with her boyfriend’s child. After she revealed this to him, he dumped her and moved to another state, blocking her from contact. Annette’s parents advised her to terminate the pregnancy, but she couldn’t do it.
“My parents gave me only one choice—to abandon my baby or to forget them and the legacy I would inherit. I was too naive and young to become a mother, so I left my newborn baby at the shelter and moved on.”
Annette added that she finished college and married another man. The girl with her, Amy, was her daughter from this marriage.
“I tried my best, but I could not forget my son. I visit this church often to watch him from a distance. But after hearing him crying for his mother today, I could not hold back any longer. I want to take him home with me.”
Soon, Annette began the legal formalities to gain Alan’s custody back. She took DNA tests with him, revealing they were mother and son by a 99 percent match. Although she successfully took Alan home and restored their relationship, it came with a hefty price.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Annette’s parents turned against her and cut her off from their lives and their will. Even worse, her husband turned against her despite knowing the truth about her shady past.
“I married you because you were honest about your failed relationship with your ex-boyfriend and thought you would never want that kid again. But now, even your parents have disowned you. Look, I’m not willing to father someone else’s child. I’m ready to support my daughter financially, but our marriage is over,” her husband Jason said, immediately filing for a divorce.
Annette and Jason were divorced shortly after. Annette got custody of her daughter and was delighted to have Alan back.
“Never come to us begging for money again” were the last words she heard her parents tell her, and Annette was fine with that. She felt her life was complete, even without her parents’ approval or their money.
She moved abroad with her two wonderful children, got a good job, and only looks forward to living a happy life.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
What can we learn from this story?
- God answers our prayers. Whenever Alan went to church, he would cry and ask God to send his mother to him. One day, his prayers were answered when he heard a voice offering to take him, and it turned out to be his mother.
- Do not abandon your children and punish them for a mistake you have committed. When Annette fell pregnant at 16, her parents told her to abandon the baby. She obeyed them and moved on, unaware of how it would affect her son as he grew up.
A little girl cries in church, asking God to save her sick grandmother’s life. Suddenly, a voice speaks behind her, offering to help. Click here to read the full story.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
I Showed Up at My Parents’ for Easter Only to Find Out My Older Sister Kicked Them Out and Made Them Live in Their Own Garage – It Was Her Biggest Mistake
I thought I was surprising my parents for Easter with flowers and chocolate—what I found instead shocked me to my core. My sister had taken over their house… and left them living in the garage like guests in their own life.
So… turns out my sister kicked my parents out of their own house, and they were living in the garage. I only found out because I tried to surprise them for Easter.
A mature man in his garage | Source: Pexels
I live about five hours away. I talk to my mom almost every day. Just little check-ins. She always says the same thing: “We’re fine, honey. Just doing our usual.”
I believed her.
Growing up, we were a close family. Not rich, but happy. My dad built our house by hand. My mom kept it cozy and clean. It felt like a home where time slowed down. Warm walls, wooden floors, the smell of cinnamon year-round.
Parents hugging their daughter | Source: Pexels
My sister Cassandra? Not so much the “cozy” type.
She’s two years older. Loud, dramatic, always in and out of trouble. But to strangers? She’s sunshine. Total charmer. She can smile while ruining your life.
Anyway, this year, I decided to surprise my parents for Easter. No warning. Just grabbed a few chocolate eggs, a bouquet of tulips, and hit the road.
A happy woman driving | Source: Pexels
I was excited. I pictured my mom’s face lighting up when she saw me. Maybe some music playing. My dad grilling something on the deck. Easter decorations on the porch.
But when I pulled into the driveway… nothing.
I stood there, confused. Maybe they went out? But they never go out on Easter. I knocked. No answer.
I still had my old key, so I let myself in. And I froze.
A woman opening the door to her house | Source: Pexels
The furniture was all different. Cold. Modern. Gray walls instead of warm yellow. The couch was gone. A huge white leather thing sat there instead, like something out of a dentist’s office.
The family photos were gone too. Replaced with abstract black-and-white prints. My mom’s antique clock? Gone. In its place, a giant twisted metal thing that looked like coat hangers fighting each other.
I stood there, heart racing. Did I go to the wrong house?
A renovated house | Source: Pexels
Then I heard her voice. Cassandra.
“Wait, you didn’t tell me your sister was coming.”
Then a guy laughed. “What, the golden goose? She’ll be gone by morning.”
I backed out of the house like it was on fire. I walked around to the garage, still shaking. I didn’t know what I was looking for. But then I saw the light through the side window. I opened the garage door slowly.
A woman walking in her yard | Source: Pexels
There they were.
My dad was sitting on a stool, fixing an old cabinet hinge. My mom was in a folding chair, wearing her winter coat inside. A cot in the corner. A little camping stove. One table, two chairs. That was it.
I couldn’t speak. I just stared. My mom turned and saw me.
“Oh,” she said softly. “Honey.”
A woman sitting in her coat | Source: Pexels
I said, “Mom? What is this?”
She looked down. “It’s temporary.”
My dad didn’t even look up. “Your mom’s cold. I told her to wear gloves.”
“Why are you out here?” I said. My voice cracked. “What happened?”
They looked at each other. Then my mom said, “It’s nothing. Cassandra and Nathan just needed some space.”
A sad mature couple | Source: Pexels
“In the house?” I said.
“They’re fixing it up,” my mom whispered. “Just for a while.”
I stood there, stunned. Just for a while. I didn’t cry. I didn’t yell.
I just looked at my mom and said, real quiet, “Pack a bag. I’ll be back in an hour.”
She blinked. “What?”
A serious frowning woman | Source: Pexels
“You heard me.”
My dad set down his screwdriver. “Where are we going?”
“You’re not staying in this garage another night.”
I got in my car, still shaking. My hands were tight on the steering wheel the whole drive. Ten minutes later, I pulled into the nicest hotel in town. The kind with a fireplace in the lobby and real plants that don’t die.
A chique hotel | Source: Pexels
“One room, two beds, full week,” I said at the front desk.
Back at the garage, I walked in with the keycard and a smile.
“We’re leaving now,” I said.
Mom shook her head. “Sweetheart, we don’t want to make a scene.”
“I’ll make it for you,” I said. “Let’s go.”
An unsure mature woman | Source: Pexels
They didn’t argue after that.
Once they were tucked into clean sheets with heat, cable, and real pillows, I went home — to my hotel room — and opened my laptop.
I’m a contracts manager. I live and breathe fine print. Paperwork is my thing. Cassandra may play games, but I play by the rules. And guess what? The rules are on my side.
A smiling woman writing by her laptop | Source: Pexels
First, I dug through our family’s digital files — my parents keep backups on an old thumb drive. Then, my mom and I went back to the garage the next day and opened the locked file cabinet. My mom’s eyes widened.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “Just trust me.”
Inside was everything I needed — property records, tax forms, insurance papers. And the house deed.
A woman looking through documents | Source: Pexels
Cassandra’s name was nowhere. Just my dad’s and mom’s. Which meant Cassandra? Legally. Just. A. Guest. And guests can be evicted.
But before I dropped the hammer, I had one more card to play. I texted Cassandra.
“Hey. Wanna grab lunch tomorrow? Just us?”
“Wait. Really? You’re not mad?” Cassandra asked, suprised.
A woman texting on her phone | Source: Pexels
“No. I’ve been thinking. We should talk,” I replied cryptically.
She showed up to the café in a beige trench coat and too much lipstick, acting like we were best friends again. The waiter barely had time to hand us menus before she started.
“I’m so glad you reached out. I know it’s been tense, but I think we’re finally on the same page.”
I smiled. “I think so too.”
A woman drinking coffee in a cafe | Source: Pexels
We ordered. She got her usual — lavender latte, avocado toast. I let her talk. About the house. About “renovations.” About how hard it is being the “only one who steps up.”
I waited until her plate was half-finished before I said, “You know… maybe you’re right. Maybe Mom and Dad do need help. Some structure.”
Her eyes lit up. “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to say!”
Two women talking in a cafe | Source: Pexels
“I even talked to a couple of realtors,” I said, pulling out my phone. “If we sell the house, we could put the money toward their long-term care. Maybe even help you and Nathan get your own place.”
She leaned in. “I knew you’d come around.”
I looked her dead in the eye and said, “Also — I recorded this whole conversation.”
Then I stood up, left a twenty on the table, and walked out without looking back.
A woman leaving | Source: Pexels
Three days later, I came back with a printed eviction notice—and a police escort.
I hadn’t told my parents what I was doing. I didn’t want to worry them or make them feel guilty. They were still staying at the hotel, watching old movies and drinking tea like they were on a quiet little vacation. I wanted to handle this without dragging them through any more stress.
A happy mature couple looking at their laptop | Source: Pexels
I pulled up to the house with a police escort and walked straight to the front door. Nathan opened it, wearing my dad’s robe and holding a mug like he owned the place.
He smirked. “You lost, sweetheart?”
I held out the notice. “Nope. But you’re about to be.”
He looked at the envelope, then up at me, confused. Cassandra stepped into view just behind him, her smile fading the second she saw what I was holding.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
“Oh, I’m very serious.”
She tried to flip the switch like she always did—playing reasonable, softening her tone. “Look, we just need a little more time. The house needed work. Mom and Dad said it was fine—”
“You’re not on the deed,” I cut in. “You’re not on the lease. You’re a guest. And guests don’t get to take over.”
An angry woman holding her finger up | Source: Pexels
Nathan let out a laugh, dismissive. “You can’t evict family.”
That’s when the officer stepped forward and said, “Actually, you’ve been served. I suggest you read the paperwork.”
They both went quiet.
Cassandra’s face dropped as the reality sank in. Her eyes darted between me and the officer like she was trying to figure out if it was a prank.
A shocked woman with her mouth open | Source: Pexels
A week later, my parents were back where they belonged—inside their home.
I remember the moment Mom walked into the living room and saw her floral centerpiece back on the table. She touched it gently and said, “I thought this was gone.”
I told her I’d kept it in the attic. I just had a feeling we’d need it again someday.
That afternoon, my dad pulled me aside and handed me a folder. Inside was the house deed.
A smiling mature man | Source: Pexels
“If anything ever happens to us,” he said, “this is yours. You were the one who came back.”
I hugged him, and for a while neither of us said anything. We didn’t need to.
As for Cassandra?
She’s couch-surfing now, staying with whatever friend will still talk to her. Word is, she’s been telling people we betrayed her. That we “turned our backs.” That we “stole her future.”
A woman gossiping | Source: Pexels
Nathan? He took off two days after the eviction notice was delivered. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.
Meanwhile, my parents are safe, warm, and eating real meals in a house that finally feels like theirs again. No more camping stove. No more garage.
That Easter ended with steaks on the grill, tulips in a vase on the table, and laughter echoing through the house just like it used to. It felt like home again.
An Easter barbeque | Source: Pexels
And for the first time in a long time, everything was exactly where it belonged.
If you enjoyed reading this story, consider checking out this one: I kept my late wife’s memory alive through videotapes. Her voice, laughter, and love were meant to be a gift for our daughter’s 18th birthday. But when I went to retrieve them, they were gone. I asked my new wife, and her answer left me frozen, heartbroken… and in tears.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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