The Phone Call That Changed My Life

When I look back at my life, there’s one phone call that stands out more than any other. I was fresh out of high school, and navigating the messy, confusing world of first love. My first boyfriend had low-key cheated on me. I liked him, but I didn’t truly love him—not really. Yet I would’ve said yes if he proposed. Lovely, right?

He ended up cheating on the sweet girl he had cheated on me with—except she was married. I dodged a bullet, though I didn’t realize it at the time. After news of our breakup spread, a mutual friend spoke with my first husband—then a longtime crush and one of my best friends—telling him he was thinking of asking me out. My first husband told him not to because he liked me too.

When I found out, I confronted him. After some pacing back and forth and a weird conversation, he admitted it: he liked me. Neither of us were sure we should risk our friendship by dating, especially since we’d just left for different colleges. But we decided to try anyway.

Almost immediately, we argued. A lot. My college roommate warned me that constant arguing meant it probably shouldn’t be happening, but I didn’t listen. My upbringing—divorced parents, stepfathers, yelling—had left me craving love, even if it meant settling for dysfunction.

We got engaged. Then he broke it off. I was devastated, but we kept dating. We argued. We fought. And then, during my last semester of college, I met someone else. We were paired for a psychology project, and I fell for him immediately. He was kind, loved the Lord, (was studying to become a pastor), and tender with his words. I remember him reading from his journal over the phone: “Elisabeth, oh Elisabeth…” before stopping because it was too private. I swooned.

Later, sitting on my couch, he looked into my eyes, silent and full of attention. I almost kissed him, knowing it would have been a moment of innocent perfection, but I didn’t. I was falling in love with him—deeply and too fast—while still technically with my boyfriend. I was aware of my own selfishness, my self-sabotage, but I didn’t fully understand it yet.

I eventually broke up with my boyfriend, calling that sweet young man to tell him I was free. We talked almost every day. I visited him at college, surprised him at chapel, met his parents, and even discussed marriage informally. It felt right. But my insecurities—low self-esteem and a history of craving conflict—kept me from receiving his love fully. I called him one night, saying I missed my ex. I sabotaged what could have been an amazing love story because I didn’t believe I deserved happiness.

I went back to my ex-boyfriend, who eventually proposed and became my first husband. I married him, had two children, and spent nearly nineteen years in a mostly painful marriage before our divorce. Meanwhile, that sweet young man married someone else.

Looking back, I recognize how messy I was. I wasn’t always a victim; I wasn’t always the hero. I hurt people. I made poor choices. I played with hearts I shouldn’t have. But in God’s perfect timing, every choice—even the selfish or foolish ones—shaped the life I have now. I wouldn’t have my children, my friends, my ministry, or the husband I now love if any of it had gone differently.

That one phone call changed everything—not just the course of my relationships, but the trajectory of my life. It taught me lessons about self-worth, about love, about the way God redeems even our mistakes. Looking back, I see that sometimes the roads not taken are just as important as the ones we do.

We all make mistakes. We all have regrets. But God can use the messiness of our choices to bring beauty, redemption, and a life richer than we ever imagined.

For more stories like this, check out my newest e-book, Stories Only Strangers Can See. (But only if you’re a stranger…😉)