God Was There With Her: The Lord's Presence in My Daughter’s Addiction Journey

Guest blog by Janelle Martin, Author of Losing Her, Finding Us: A Mother’s Fight, A Daughter’s Journey, and the Road to Recovery.

"It is the LORD who goes before you . He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed." Deuteronomy 31:8 ESV

My Daughter's Addiction Journey

When your child is battling addiction, every moment feels like a crisis waiting to happen. You wake up each day bracing for a phone call, a message, a silence that lasts too long. But even in the most fragile moments of fear, God can break through with a whisper so clear, you never forget it.

Four months into my 17 year old daughter Regan’s treatment, I was still holding my breath. She had been doing well, connecting with her recovery group and finally starting to look healthy and happy again. But addiction doesn’t release its grip easily. One night, she left a function (sober event) early, fully intending to relapse.

I had no idea until I woke up the next morning to a voicemail from the head counselor of her treatment program. He informed me that she had broken the rules and was with a couple of kids who had been up to no good. Panic set in immediately. It was just after 4 a.m. her time, but I called anyway—reflexively, desperately. She finally answered a few hours later and admitted she was struggling with the transition out of her outpatient program and wasn’t sure if she still wanted to be sober.

Her honesty made me flinch with the urge to fix it—to fix her—but fear gripped me. Fear that everything would unravel again. She assured me she was okay and said we’d talk later. I had to get ready for church.

God Was There With Her

I had already planned to visit a church I’d never attended before. I’d heard it was welcoming and safe—a place where I could sit with my thoughts and maybe feel God’s nearness again. What I didn’t know is that I would walk into one of the most sacred moments of my life.

By the time I willed myself to go inside, the sanctuary was filled with the music of the praise team, full pews and hands raised. I slipped into a spot near the center of the room, exhausted, anxious and hoping to be invisible. As I lifted my eyes, I saw it: two giant walls of reclaimed wooden panels rising up beside the altar, made up of many colors and textures—some rough, some polished, all beautifully imperfect. Each had a large cross cut out of the center.

"I am with her." ~Jesus

Instantly, my breath caught in my chest. Those walls looked exactly like the one behind Regan in so many photos she had sent from her group meetings and hangouts. I’d always loved that wall. I’d even asked her about it more than once—what building it was in, what the story was behind it. I wasn’t sure why it captivated me, only that it made me feel connected to her.

And in that moment, looking at this massive wooden backdrop in a church far from my daughter, I heard God speak—not audibly, but deep inside my soul.

“I am there with her.”

That’s all He said.

But that was everything.

I began to weep. Right there with the praise music engulfing the sanctuary, tears spilled out of me, not just from fear—but from relief. He was there. Even when I couldn’t be. Even when I was helpless. Even when I had no idea what was happening, or how close she had come to slipping back into darkness—He was there.

In John 16:33, Jesus says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have

overcome the world.”

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33b NIV

That verse has anchored me in so many seasons of suffering, but in that moment, it came alive in a new way. I realized I didn’t have to hold everything together. I didn’t have to fix her or know the outcome. I just had to trust that He was already ahead of us.

That wall—those pieces of broken, mismatched wood—became a holy symbol to me.

They represented the people surrounding my daughter, the beauty being made from herbrokenness, the safe place she was learning to rest in. And it reminded me that God uses all of it—the rough, the raw, the reclaimed—to build something sacred.

"That wall—those pieces of broken, mismatched wood—became a holy symbol to me." ~Janelle Martin

Faith didn’t make the pain go away. But it shifted how I carried it. Instead of gripping tightly to control, I began to release her daily—sometimes hourly—into God’s hands. I stopped trying to manipulate the outcome and started praying for transformation, not just for her, but for me.

The day I found out about her near-relapse, it hurt to know how close she’d come. But I also saw the beauty of her choice to walk away. The wall in the church, the whisper from God, and the grace that met us both in different places all became part of our story. A story still being written.

Faith didn’t mean I stopped fearing. But it meant fear no longer had the final say. And it gave me something even stronger than hope—it gave me trust.

God was there with her.

And He still is.

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Janelle Martin is a writer, licensed therapist, and mother of two whose journey through her daughter’s addiction and recovery led her deeper into faith and healing. Drawing from personal experience, she offers hope and encouragement to families facing similar struggles.

Janelle is the author of Losing Her, Finding Us: A Mother’s Fight, A Daughter’s Journey, and the Road to Recovery, a powerful dual memoir written with her daughter Regan (coming summer 2025). She lives in Texas with her husband, their beloved dogs, and continues to walk in faith, offering support to others through her private practice at The Mind Connection, writing and speaking.

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