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I believe in God because He saved my life, and my family. In the summer of 1994, my husband and I separated. He took our children, and I took up a serious drinking habit. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was dealing with depression and tried to hide it by becoming the life of the party. A friend of mine and I moved in together and began hanging out at several of the local bars and taverns in our area.

As time went on, I slipped deeper into my depression and further down into a alcoholic haze. I worked as a waitress at the time, and everything I made in tips ended up being spent at the bar that night. This went on for several months. I'd work all day, then party hard all night. The more I thought about my kids and the fact that I couldn't see them everyday, caused me to drink even more. All I wanted to do was drowned my sorrows and keep myself oblivious to the fact that I was slowly killing myself.

On the rare occasions I did see my children, I'd get so emotional that my husband would take them away again, as I was doing more harm to them than good. I'd get upset seeing them, which in turn caused them to become upset. I would scream at their father, which would only make matters worse for us all. Before it was all said and done with, my husband contacted a lawyer and began the proceedings for a divorce and full custody of our children. I knew there was nothing I could do to fight it, and would start drinking again.

Then, I hit rock bottom. My drinking had gotten so bad that I ended up losing my job. My room-mate was dating someone on a pretty serious basis, and it was obvious that it was time for me to leave. The only problem was that I had no where to go. My family had pretty much given up on me, my husband and children stayed away from me, and now I was about to be homeless. I had lost everything.

As I sat in the middle of my bedroom floor, crying and screaming at the top of my lungs, I knew something had to change. I looked up at my dresser, and there was my Bible. It was one of the few things I had taken with me when I left, though I hadn't even opened the cover since moving out. I just stared at it. Then, I looked up toward the ceiling and felt a wave of anger and confusion take over. That's when I gave it all to God. I half screamed and half cried out, "If you'll just let my husband call me, I'll do whatever I can to make things right". I knew it was hopeless, but it was all I had left. That's when the phone rang.

When I answered the phone, I heard my husband's voice on the other end. He wanted to give our marriage another chance and had already called a marriage counselor and had scheduled a preliminary session. He said if I'd give it a shot, so would he. I couldn't believe my ears. God had answered my cries of desperation. I cried into the phone that I was losing my mind and I didn't know what to do anymore. How could anyone want to be with someone like me. My husband let me get it all out, without saying a word.

The next night, we went out on a trial date. We had so much fun, and there was no alcohol involved. We had dinner together without fighting, went dancing without making each other feel bad, then spent the night together crying. We had gotten back together. And we both gave credit to God.

My husband and I are still together, raising our children as a team. We just celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary and are looking forward to watching our kids graduate from high school and begin their own lives. We love each other more now than ever before, and we both whole-heartedly believe in God.

Learn more about this author, Christine Senter.
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