{"id":90177,"date":"2026-07-07T08:48:14","date_gmt":"2026-07-07T08:48:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177"},"modified":"2026-07-07T08:48:14","modified_gmt":"2026-07-07T08:48:14","slug":"please-merritt-your-mother-didnt-mean-to-steal-your-land-just-give-us-one-more-chance-as-my-cowardly-father-dropped-to-his-knees-on-the-gravel-sobbing-i-stood-frozen-watching-my-de","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177","title":{"rendered":"“Please Merritt, your mother didn’t mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!”\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n

Part 1<\/h2>\n

“Get your grease-stained hands off my father’s property and pack your bags, Merritt. You have exactly thirty days to clear out this trash.”<\/p>\n

My mother, Sibil, didn’t whisper. She barked, her voice echoing across the polished cedar ribs of the 1950s Chris-Craft utility boat I had spent the last three months restoring. Behind her stood my father, Alden, staring intently at his own shoes, and my sister, Fallon, who was busy recording me on her iPhone, lips curled into a predatory smirk.<\/p>\n

I am Merritt Callahan. For twenty-five years, I was my family\u2019s designated scapegoat\u2014the invisible daughter left waiting in a torrential downpour at age twelve with a first-place science trophy while they comforted Fallon over a broken fingernail. The daughter whose entire life savings were stolen by her own mother to throw Fallon a “breakup party.” I walked away from their toxic orbit with nothing but the clothes on my back, rebuilding my life here on the shores of Lake Michigan at my grandfather Arthur\u2019s old, decaying boatyard.<\/p>\n

Now, just days after my beloved grandfather’s funeral, they were back. Not to grieve, but to scavenge.<\/p>\n

Sibil gestured grandly to the sleazy, slicked-back man standing beside her. “This is Mr. Gable, a premium real estate broker. And this,” she tapped a thick, bound document in her hands, “is Dad\u2019s real, updated will. He left the entirety of this lakefront land to Fallon. Every single square foot. Your little hobby shop is officially closed.”<\/p>\n

The air in the workshop grew suffocatingly still. My hand tightened around the heavy chrome wrench I was holding. I looked at Fallon, who giggled, waiting for the tears, waiting for the predictable breakdown they had engineered so many times during my childhood.<\/p>\n

But I wasn’t that helpless girl anymore. I glanced toward the back of the room where my partner, Hayes, stood ready, and where a hidden crowd of thirty elite guests\u2014including the billionaire real estate mogul Vivian Kensington\u2014sat watching from the shadows of the mezzanine.<\/p>\n

Sibil signaled her lawyer to step forward. “Serve her the eviction notice,” she hissed. “Let’s see how tough she is without our family name.”<\/p>\n

The lawyer reached into his briefcase, pulling out a crisp, notarized document that would strip away everything I had bled for.<\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

Sibil thought she could walk in and steal my life’s work with a forged document. But she completely forgot that I\u2019m a Callahan, and my grandfather left me a weapon she never saw coming. The rest of the story is below \ud83d\udc47<\/p>\n

Part 2<\/h2>\n

The slick lawyer extended the document toward me, a smug grin plastered across his face. Sibil folded her arms, her chest puffed out in triumph, while Fallon adjusted her phone to capture my impending ruin.<\/p>\n

“Go ahead, Merritt,” Sibil sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “Take it. It\u2019s over. You can carry out a few boxes of your little tools, but the land belongs to us now. We\u2019re selling it to developers.”<\/p>\n

I didn’t reach for the paper. Instead, I let out a low, calm chuckle that made Sibil\u2019s smile falter.<\/p>\n

“You always did have terrible timing, Mother,” I said, stepping aside.<\/p>\n

From the shadows of the workshop’s mezzanine, a tall, sharply dressed man stepped down the wooden staircase. It was Stellin Vance, the most formidable estate attorney in the state, and my grandfather\u2019s lifelong legal counsel. Behind him, the lights of the upper deck flickered on, revealing thirty of the most prominent figures in the Michigan boating community, including billionaire Vivian Kensington.<\/p>\n

Sibil\u2019s face drained of color as Vivian raised a glass of champagne in my direction. For twenty years, Sibil had desperately tried to claw her way into Vivian’s elite social circle, only to be completely ignored. Seeing her here, celebrating with the daughter she despised, was a physical blow to her ego.<\/p>\n

“What is this?” Sibil stammered, looking at her hired attorney, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “This is a private family matter! Get these people out of here!”<\/p>\n

“This is my property, Sibil, which means I choose the guest list,” I replied coldly.<\/p>\n

Stellin Vance stepped between us, slipping a heavy, gold-embossed folder onto the table. “Mrs. Callahan, the document your representation is holding is completely worthless. Even if it were a genuine will\u2014which our forensic team will gladly prove is a clumsy forgery\u2014it wouldn’t matter.”<\/p>\n

“What do you mean it wouldn’t matter?!” Sibil shrieked, her carefully manicured facade cracking completely. “Arthur owned this yard! He was my father!”<\/p>\n

“Your father was a brilliant man who saw right through you,” Vance said smoothly. “Three years ago, immediately after your sister Rowena attempted to sabotage this workshop by dumping hazardous chemical waste\u2014a stunt that resulted in heavy EPA federal fines that she is still paying off\u2014Arthur Callahan legally, irrevocably transferred 100% of the land deed, the shoreline rights, and the Callahan brand to Merritt. For over a thousand days, your father owned nothing but his personal effects. You cannot inherit a property that was legally sold years ago.”<\/p>\n

Sibil\u2019s fake lawyer took one look at the certified county deed Vance produced, tucked his briefcase under his arm, and quietly backed out of the workshop door, completely abandoning his client.<\/p>\n

Panic, raw and wild, set in across Sibil\u2019s face. She turned violently toward her real estate broker, Gable. “It doesn’t matter! Gable, tell them! We signed the contract! You gave me the fifty-thousand dollar cash deposit to clear this land! The developers will sue her!”<\/p>\n

Gable swallowed hard, sweating profusely under the bright workshop lights. He slowly took off his sunglasses, refusing to look Sibil in the eye.<\/p>\n

“I can’t do that, Sibil,” Gable whispered, his voice trembling. “The deal is dead.”<\/p>\n

“What do you mean the deal is dead? I have the cash!”<\/p>\n

“Six months ago,” Gable stammered, backing away from her, “my boutique brokerage was bought out by a major real estate acquisition firm based in Chicago. I don’t call the shots anymore.”<\/p>\n

I stepped forward, leaning against the hull of the wooden boat I had built with my own hands. “And do you know who owns that Chicago firm, Mother? Do you know who the majority shareholder and CEO is?”<\/p>\n

Sibil stared at me, her eyes wide with a horrifying dawning realization.<\/p>\n

“Me,” I whispered. “You took fifty thousand dollars of my company’s money to illegally sell my own land back to me.”<\/p>\n

The entire crowd on the mezzanine gasped, followed by a loud, echoing laugh from Vivian Kensington. Sibil\u2019s mind shattered. The realization that she had been completely outmaneuvered, trapped in a cage of her own greed, drove her past the point of sanity. Her elegant silk blouse became soaked in sweat as her face distorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.<\/p>\n

“You ungrateful little bitch!” Sibil screamed, losing all control. She lunged across the table, her fingernails clawing like talons directly at my face, screaming that she would burn the entire place to the ground before letting me keep it.<\/p>\n

If you’ve read this far, don’t hesitate to leave a like and comment before reading part 3. It makes us as happy as reading a complete story! Thank you. \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n

Part 3<\/h2>\n

Before Sibil\u2019s fingers could slash my skin, a solid, tattooed arm intercepted her. Hayes stepped forward like an immovable stone wall, effortlessly catching her wrists in mid-air. He didn’t use violence; he simply held her completely still, his gaze fierce and unyielding.<\/p>\n

“Touch her again,” Hayes warned, his deep voice vibrating through the rafters, “and you\u2019ll be leaving here in handcuffs.”<\/p>\n

Realizing her physical assault had failed, Sibil stumbled backward. Sensing the shift in power, Fallon immediately deployed her ultimate weapon. She dropped to the concrete floor, shrieking hysterically, kicking her designer shoes against the ground in a perfectly orchestrated, theatrical panic attack. It was the exact performance that had stolen my childhood attention, the routine that always forced everyone to cater to her whims.<\/p>\n

But this wasn’t our childhood living room.<\/p>\n

The thirty elite guests on the mezzanine didn’t rush to her rescue. Instead, they stared down at her with unvarnished disgust and utter contempt. Fallon\u2019s screams faltered as she looked up and realized that the wealthy, powerful people she desperately wanted to impress were looking at her like she was a pathetic bug.<\/p>\n

Then came Alden. My father collapsed onto his knees, tears streaming down his face, reaching out to clutch at the hem of my jeans. “Merritt, please,” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “Please have mercy on us. I didn’t know about the money, I swear! Your mother forced me to stay silent all these years. She controlled everything. Forgive us, please!”<\/p>\n

I looked down at the man who was supposed to be my protector, feeling absolutely nothing but pity. “Stand up, Alden,” I said, my voice cutting through his pathetic wailing. “You are a coward. You sat in silence while your wife and favorite child bled my grandfather dry, and you watched them try to destroy me. Your silence wasn’t innocence; it was compliance.”<\/p>\n

I turned my gaze back to Sibil, who was panting, her eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal.<\/p>\n

“Here is how this ends,” I stated, each word cold and deliberate. “You have until Monday morning at exactly 9:00 AM to wire that fifty thousand dollars back into my corporate account. If that money is missing by even a single minute, my corporate legal team will file federal grand larceny and contract fraud charges against you. We will place an immediate lien on your house, strip you of your assets, and ensure you spend your retirement inside a federal penitentiary.”<\/p>\n

Sibil choked on her breath, the terrifying reality of her complete financial and social execution crashing down upon her.<\/p>\n

“Now,” I pointed a steady finger toward the exit, “get out of my workshop. All of you.”<\/p>\n

Shamefaced, broken, and utterly defeated, the three of them dragged each other out into the blinding Michigan sun. I walked to the edge of the property and slammed the heavy iron gates shut, securing them with a massive, heavy-duty padlock. The Callahan family empire was officially dead, and mine was just beginning.<\/p>\n

One year later, the workshop is thriving beyond anything my grandfather could have dreamed. With the immense financial backing and mentorship of Vivian Kensington, we expanded the facility and founded a gorgeous maritime museum next door, preserving the history of wooden boats and bearing Arthur Callahan\u2019s name proudly on the entrance. Even better, Hayes and I were married right here on the docks, surrounded by a real family built on loyalty, respect, and unconditional love.<\/p>\n

As for the ghosts of my past, their downfall was absolute. Sibil was forced to liquidate her assets and sell her precious country club membership just to pay back the corporate funds and avoid prison\u2014Vivian personally ensured she was permanently blacklisted from every elite circle in the country. Fallon now works as a miserable cashier at a discount clothing outlet, still whining to anyone who will listen about her stolen destiny. And Alden calls my office line once a month, weeping into the voicemail, begging for a cup of coffee and a chance to blame Sibil for his choices.<\/p>\n

I listen to those voicemails for exactly ten seconds\u2014just long enough to savor the bitter taste of his overdue regret\u2014and then I press delete. My gates remain locked. Forgiveness is a gift reserved for the people who protect you, not for the cowards who stand by and watch you bleed.<\/p>\n

What do you think of this story? Please leave a like and share your thoughts in the comments. Your support means a lot to us and inspires us to keep writing more meaningful and powerful stories. Thank you! \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1 “Get your grease-stained hands off my father’s property and pack your bags, Merritt. You have exactly thirty days to clear out this trash.” My mother, Sibil, didn’t whisper. She barked, her voice echoing across the polished cedar ribs of the 1950s Chris-Craft utility boat I had spent the last three months restoring. Behind […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":90243,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-90177","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\n"Please Merritt, your mother didn't mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!"\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance. - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\""Please Merritt, your mother didn't mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!"\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance. - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 “Get your grease-stained hands off my father’s property and pack your bags, Merritt. You have exactly thirty days to clear out this trash.” My mother, Sibil, didn’t whisper. She barked, her voice echoing across the polished cedar ribs of the 1950s Chris-Craft utility boat I had spent the last three months restoring. Behind […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-07-07T08:48:14+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"9 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177\",\"name\":\"\\\"Please Merritt, your mother didn't mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!\\\"\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance. - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-07-07T08:48:14+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"“Please Merritt, your mother didn’t mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!”\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance.\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\",\"name\":\"Phong Nguyen\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Phong Nguyen\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"\"Please Merritt, your mother didn't mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!\"\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance. - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"\"Please Merritt, your mother didn't mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!\"\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance. - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1 “Get your grease-stained hands off my father’s property and pack your bags, Merritt. You have exactly thirty days to clear out this trash.” My mother, Sibil, didn’t whisper. She barked, her voice echoing across the polished cedar ribs of the 1950s Chris-Craft utility boat I had spent the last three months restoring. Behind […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-07-07T08:48:14+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Phong Nguyen","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Phong Nguyen","Est. reading time":"9 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177","name":"\"Please Merritt, your mother didn't mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!\"\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance. - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg","datePublished":"2026-07-07T08:48:14+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/Women_fighting_at_boatyard_202607071547.jpeg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=90177#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"“Please Merritt, your mother didn’t mean to steal your land, just give us one more chance!”\u2014as my cowardly father dropped to his knees on the gravel, sobbing, I stood frozen, watching my deranged mother tear her own clothes in a manic rage while the police sirens began to wail in the distance."}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951","name":"Phong Nguyen","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Phong Nguyen"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/90177","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=90177"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/90177\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":90247,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/90177\/revisions\/90247"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/90243"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=90177"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=90177"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=90177"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}