He was there all along

A few years ago, life hit me hard.

My relationship with my dad had just ended. My mom was living with us as we walked with her through rehab. And in the middle of that chaos, memories of sexual abuse surfaced. Not just vague feelings—but vivid details I hadn’t expected.

It felt like I was drowning, only able to breathe through a straw as the tide of pain carried me out to sea.

I was angry.
I didn’t understand why God would allow everything to hit at once.
It felt cruel. Personal.
Like I was being abandoned all over again.

And in typical Shay fashion, I said, “Fine, God. If You’re not going to help me—I’ll fix it myself.”

So I called a counselor, made an appointment, and came up with a plan. I walked into her office ready to say all the right things and walk out with the answers to my pain. That’s what we do sometimes, isn’t it? Try to take the reins. Fix what’s broken. Control the outcome.

I sat down on her couch. Pillow in my lap. Ready to unload it all.

But what I didn’t expect…
Was for God to meet me there.

I closed my eyes, and in the quiet of that space, He brought me back to that place of pain. I was five years old. It was the memory I didn’t want to see. But this time, God didn’t show me the trauma. He showed me Himself.

He was there.
Not absent.
Not watching from a distance.
Present.

And suddenly I knew—He was protecting me.
Not in the way I thought protection should look.
But protecting the part of me most connected to Him.
My soul. My true self.

Even though my body was enduring something awful, He never left. He was with me. He was loving me through it. And somehow… even though He didn’t stop it, I now see how He was still holding me.

Today, I can speak with young women walking through this same pain. I can sit beside them and say, “You’re not alone.” Not because I figured it all out—but because I’ve seen what God does with brokenness.

Sometimes we feel like God’s personal punching bag.
Or like the enemy has full reign in our lives.
Sometimes we try to prevent pain, fix ourselves, or say all the right prayers like formulas.

But “Thy will be done” isn’t a surrender to pain—
It’s an invitation to walk with God through it all.

If you’ve ever wondered where God was in your story—
He was right there.
With you.
Loving you.