JIHAD OF THE SOUL be comforted when I couldn’t think of a great solution to a problem, or my body would be shielded during some dangerous situation, or, or . . . I complained, “If I wasn’t Muslim, I wouldn’t be so lonely! I didn’t have a problem getting a man until I decided to become a stronger Muslim!” May Allah forgive me! Really, from ninth grade to two years after college I always had a steady man in my life. Those were the times when I dated (usually without guilt), the times when neither religion nor getting married was the first thing on my mind. Well, times had changed. In college, I had experienced a religious awakening, and that old lifestyle no longer jibed with my new “Muslim” soul, the “muslima” (Muslim woman) Zarinah. This Zarinah was trying to live as a “good” Muslim—no more relationships without intentions of commitment. So, I waited. I waited to meet a Muslim husband like I had met nonMuslim boyfriends before. I waited and I waited and I waited, until it became apparent that perhaps no one would approach me! “What’s the problem? Did my Islam suddenly bring on a case of the uglies? Is this a test from God? Am I being punished?” Perhaps this wait was my scarlet letter, my living punishment for past sins. It may seem funny and far-fetched to some people, but for someone who believes in the afterlife, it is not. Literally, I cried to my Lord, “Oh, God, give me some respite! Who am I going to marry? Will he care that I haven’t always been a ‘good Muslim’? You know I just started wearing my scarf, right? Will he love children? Will he be outgoing? . . . When are you going to answer me!?!?” From age 20 or so, I wondered if I would ever marry. I joked with my friends, “Please pray for God to give me strength . . . I’m going crazy!” Yes, I was active in the community and had a great job, but I was still so lonely. Then, one day while overseas (alone again), my mother e-mailed about Halim, a single Muslim brother. Our beloved Sheik Ali (a local religious leader) was playing matchmaker and thought Halim and I might be compatible. I thought, “Why now, while I’m overseas!?” But unbeknownst to me, my curious father met Halim and his father for lunch while I was away. Then, when I returned home in April, Dad gave me the details: Halim was 22 years old (two years younger than me I might add), from Ann Arbor, and was going to school for psychology. It took me a minute to get over the age difference, but we finally set up a family dinner for May. Halim came with his parents, and we discussed everything from my strong personality to Halim’s personal goals, to polygamy and the ways Halim planned to support his wife. I determined, “Hey, he’s Muslim, cute, intelligent, and looks strong . . . Why not give it a try?”
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