This Is How a Lost Leg Led to Finding True Love

God used a rib to provide Adam his perfect match, but He used a leg to match these 2 couples

“Aaaaaaaaaah!”  

The scream interrupted our sister-to-sister conversation, intensifying as frantic feet raced toward us. 

My niece and her younger brothers burst into the den.  

“Somebody’s under the bed!” Megan cried.  

Half concerned, half thinking these children were looking for an excuse to delay bedtime, Trish and I rushed back to where the children were sleeping in my roommate’s office. My niece and nephews crouched behind us, afraid but not about to miss what we found beneath the twin bed. 

It was a human leg. No stranger attached.

“Oh,” I said, relieved once I saw what it was. I reached under the bed to pull the leg toward me. 

“This is Barb’s old leg,” I told the small children, adding, “plastic leg” before their minds ran wild. I stood it up beside me. “It’s a prosthesis, a big word for a fake leg Barb can stand on.” 

The back story — and the rest of the bedtime story

Doctors had discovered a soft-tissue sarcoma in my roommate’s foot several years before and amputated her lower leg to prevent the cancer from spreading. As her stump changed shape over time, Barb had gone through a series of prosthetic legs. 

I wish I’d thought of that before we tucked the children into sleeping bags once again. For as soon as we’d resumed our perches on the couch, we were interrupted again. 

“There’s another leg!” Megan squealed, as they piled into the room. 

We all marched back to the bedroom, where I pulled out not one, but two more legs from under the bed. This time I got a flashlight, illuminating the space to make sure no other spare body parts would delay bedtime.  

All clear.  

The losses that made Barb my roommate 

As a university student, I’d met Barb years before when she helped lead our Campus Crusade for Christ. At her recommendation, I applied for the Wildwood (N.J.) Summer Project.  

It was there I met Bill Olson from Wisconsin and fell in love. When the project ended and we both returned to our college campuses (mine in Florida), we fostered our love through letters and occasional (because they were pricy) long-distance phone calls.  

Bill and I both returned to Wildwood the following year and found it harder to say goodbye at summer’s end. That December, he asked me to marry him so we could say “hello” instead of “goodbye” — forever. 

We married the following August, but “forever” — at least on this planet — was only 26 and a half months.  

But while Bill and I were experiencing our marital bliss, Barb went through cancer and said goodbye to her lower leg. I grieved her loss. When Bill died unexpectedly of complications after ulcer surgery some months later, she grieved my loss of him.   

Our losses brought us together.

After Bill’s death, Barb and I rented an apartment together. By the time I purchased a house a couple years later, her fourth-generation prosthesis had relegated her previous legs to their under-bed storage location. 

Which had made Megan’s time at my house so scream-worthy. 

The loss that triggered amazing gains 

But two days before Megan’s screams punctuated her family’s vacation, Barb’s loss of her leg triggered an intense reaction to that summer’s blockbuster movie – and everything that happened next. 

Our singles group from church saw the drama Forrest Gump, which chronicles the life of Forrest, an intellectually challenged man, over 30 years, including a stint in Vietnam.  

The movie sparked tears, especially for Barb, relating to the character Lieutenant Dan, Forrest’s commander who lost his legs in the Vietnam War.

As Dan struggled with his value as a man without legs, Barb struggled as a woman missing hers.  

She remained in tears long after the credits rolled but was sitting with others in our group who remained to comfort her when I had to leave to drive a friend home. 

I was surprised when I beat Barb to the house. I became worried the later it got.

My bedtime came and went, but I stayed awake because Barb still wasn’t home. Finally, hours later, she arrived – and burst into tears again when she told me why.

A guy we thought liked me had been in that group of friends who had lingered with Barb after the movie – and after the others left, he had confessed he loved her.  

Ouch. 

(I feel silly and selfish typing that word, but it was true at the time. I felt hurt.)

Ken and I hadn’t dated, but my pastor had told me he was interested in me and orchestrated our meeting. We’d had several one-on-one conversations since – although Ken had asked a lot of questions about Barb. 

Now we knew why. 

I cried, too. I wanted to be happy for Barb, but my pride was wounded and, more so, I wondered if God had a man for me, too. 

I had loved being married to Bill. I longed to be known and loved, to share my life with someone. Would I never experience that intimacy again? 

Though I went to bed late, I was awakened by a troubled heart well before dawn the next morning.  

I felt my legs had been taken out from under me. How could I stand this fresh loss?

Heartbroken, I turned to God, the Husband to the husbandless, and entrusted the longings of my heart to Him. 

“I want to trust you with my life,” I had written God in my journal that early morning in 1994, “and it’s easier when I can figure out no ‘path’ of my own. When I have nowhere to turn except you.” 

With the lingering tears and ink poured onto those pages, the peace that made no earthly sense calmed my heart. I knew God could provide a husband – or take away my longing for one and satisfy my heart with Himself. I yielded completely to His will.

Gains for me, too

Apparently, that’s all God had wanted. Me, looking to Him, the ultimate bridegroom. (And, as it turns out, matchmaker extraordinaire.)

That same day, I got a call from my friend Becky. Who said she’d run into Steve Dagen, a widower I’d bathed in prayer years before when his wife was dying. She said he’d been reading my articles in the newspaper and wanted to meet me. 

Moreover, he wanted to date me. (And he’d spoken to Becky of his desire to remarry.) 

He’d asked Becky to get my permission to call me. (After all, he wasn’t unattached. He had four children, ages 9, 8, 5, and 3!)

I said yes. (Would I have said yes even 24 hours before?)  

Steve waited more than a week for our first date because my sister and her crew were coming for a visit – which Barb’s legs under the bed made more memorable.  

Losing our legs can be a good thing

God has a way of taking our legs out from under us so we can’t stand in our own strength as His children. Doesn’t He?

As hard as it was then, I look back on that weekend and fall more in love with Him – and the husband (and children!) God gave me. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I can trust Him with anything.

He was gracious enough to provide both me and my roommate

Relying on God is a good thing – because He works for our good. The Apostle Paul captured it in his letter to the Romans:

“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28, NASB). 

Marrying Steve Dagen – because I also said yes when he asked – is my favorite good thing. My second favorite good thing? Barb marrying Ken.  

One lost leg. One weekend 30 years ago. One matchmaking God.

And two couples standing on God’s good plan for our lives. No screams necessary.