My daughter was in her late teens when she first started struggling with her mental health and suicidal thoughts. There followed five years of riding a frightening roller-coaster with her, as best I could. There was no instruction book to follow. I was a single parent. I worked almost full time and had three other children to support. My family all lived at a distance or overseas. It was a living nightmare. The kind I never would have been able to even imagine. It was not what I wanted for my daughter, or my family. Where was God?

In the middle of my extreme distress, which was a daily experience, I couldn’t find the words to explain to others just how bad it got for me, for my daughter, for us. Every day I was terrified she would take her own life. She planned. She tried. Suicidal thinking took hold of her, no matter how much she was told she was loved and her life mattered. I would often shake with fear. Where was God?

Basically, I tried my best but feared it wouldn’t be good enough. I talked with the experts and did all that was asked of me, but there were so many moments when I didn’t know what to say or do. Where was God?

When everyone else’s world continued on, mine was suspended…yet God was there. He was right there with me, with us, through the words and actions of those in my church family who really ‘got it’. God was there in the family meals dropped off regularly, over those five years. God was there in the listening ears, the hugs, the compassion, the encouraging words, communion brought to our home, warm smiles, and the friendships that continued on through thick and thin. How grateful I was for those few who didn’t run or avoid, but who stayed alongside us on the journey. The ones I could be honest with. The ones who I didn’t need to explain things to but who kept on being supportive.

How grateful I was for the couple in my church family who gently shared with me some of their own similar experiences, to let me know I was not alone, and they understood. They gave me their phone numbers on a piece of paper, to keep in my wallet – just in case.

God was there in those who sat with me at ED or drove us to appointments and waited patiently in the car to take us back home. The ones who brought us snacks and commented on the lovely weather, which we hadn’t noticed until they pointed it out.

God was there in those who answered urgent texts or calls, or who changed their plans to help care for my other children in crisis times, or who provided groceries when things were hard to manage.

God was there in those who would drop round and chat with my daughter, get to know her, encourage her, invite her places, and show her their love and care in practical ways. Like the book voucher from a local store, or her favourite kind of coffee.

God was there through the people who loaned us things and through the ones who wrote thoughtful notes and left them in the letterbox. God was there in home-picked bunches of flowers from Jenny most Fridays through all those hard years, and ever since.

God was there in the prayers I knew were being prayed for my daughter, and for us all. God was in the words of a good friend who’d ask, ‘Would you like me to pray with you?’

God was there when we didn’t feel judged. We felt valued and genuinely loved. Though the funny thing is, before this all happened, I wouldn’t have said I fitted into our church that well. We’d only been going along for a few months. My daughter slowly recovered, and today she is working and living in a flat, building up her life. She’s not finding things easy every day, but she’s well and now has a deep confidence in God’s faithfulness. She knows her condition might be a problem at times, but she seems remarkably grounded about it now.

I am very grateful for the team of experts who gave her their professional care, but most of all, I am grateful for those who God placed around us. As my daughter says, “People in our church family walked the talk for us and didn’t give up on me, even when I wanted to. God gave them as gifts to us when we needed them most. When they turned up for us, He turned up for us.”

By Annie

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Suzie Baird is a mental health advocate. She has lived experience of mental distress that helps her to support others and educate those wanting to understand more. She attends Lyall Bay Community Church, an Anglican pioneer mission unit. 

Tricia Hendry is a writer and educator specialising in issues relating the mental health and resilience. She has many years’ experience supporting others through mental health and trauma challenges. She attends All Saints, Hataitai.