"For this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother, and be joined to his wife; and they shall become one flesh."
Become. One. Flesh.
I doubt I am the only Christian widow that has pondered this thought. That the God of Jacob, Abraham, and Isaac. . .the God who watched Matthew Arnold Olson leave his parents on September 16, 2009 and cleave to me was the very same God who stood over me in the hospital on February 5, 2011 and slowly tore him from me. For God to widow a woman is to take away half of who she is here on this Earth, to rip her flesh in two, to tear apart what He has joined. If it sounds violent, that's because it is.
I spent 25 years searching for Matt; choosing our spouses is so unlike other relationships we are given. It is God who oversees what parents we have, who become our children, and the siblings that our often our best of friends in this life. And although we choose our friends, even the most intimate of those friendships do not compare to that of a marriage. And God no doubt has a will for us when it comes to our spouses, but as a rebellious child of God I am the first to recognize God's will for us can be ignored. There is something special and unique about the gift of marriage. It is a divine choice we make to another person.
A choice that takes guts, that takes work, that takes time.
I longed for Matt my whole life. And once I found him? When I say wild horses couldn't have dragged me away I mean it quite seriously. It took a very long time for Matt to even open up to the idea of being in a relationship, and then a good amount of time after that to commit to marriage. And all the while well he was making up his mind about me, I had already made the decision for him. I wasn't going anywhere.
We laughed together, danced together, and partied together. We fought hard, loved hard, and worked hard. He was my choice. It took me a long time to find him, a long time to snag him, and a long time for us to understand the meaning of family. Unfair does not begin to encompass how I feel about my husband being ripped from me in the middle of the night. Cruel feels like the more appropriate word.
But in the midst of this. . .this losing my best friend, this being torn in two, this being left behind as a single mother. . .in here somewhere is hope, in here somewhere is grace. I know this only by His promises, which I will continue to cling to dearly. I know with certainty that my God is not cruel, and so I can rest in the knowledge that His plan for me is not what I see today.
This I can claim as truth, even when I do not understand it, even when I do not really like it, even when it is no longer my choice.