This article is being spread everywhere on social media and I think it's worth sharing here too. It's really good. Please read when you have the opportunity. Below are some quoted parts:

At 21 I married a man five years older than me.  The second time around, at 31, I married a man five years younger than me.*

Eight years into our marriage, it still sends little shock waves through people when I mention this. There are sometimes oooohs and aaahhhs, eyes get bigger and rounder, and I can almost see folks wanting to high five me and slap my husband on the back for biting the bullet and marrying an older, divorced, single mom.  I have, no joke, been asked at least a dozen times how I managed to pull this off.

But a decade ago when he proposed to me, I didn’t bounce off the walls. I advised him to speak to his elders and family, which he did. I was mature enough to know that marrying into a South Asian family meant actually marrying the family, and without their blessings there would likely be no blessing in the marriage.  So he dutifully approached his parents, armed with the story of Khadijah (ra) and Muhammad (saw)**, confident as an aalim and haafiz Quran himself.  They took the news fairly well, asking for time to think. Istikharas were had all around and the green light came about a month later, at which point his mother called my mother.

From where I stand, and stood a decade ago, Muhammad*** didn’t give me a chance. I gave him a chance.  He was still studying, I was a licensed attorney.  He owned no property and had no wealth, but I knew my sustenance was written so didn’t pay attention to that. I knew how to run a household, balance a checkbook, cook for over a hundred people, write a resume, raise a child, network with new people, and essentially be an adult.  He was on the verge of learning all of those things.  Which he did.  Initially I supported us financially, and after a while he took the reigns and has held them since.  I introduced him to pad thai and sushi, foreign films, kathak dance, parenting, qawwali concerts, foreign policy, and a world of ideas that a 21 year old me could never have.  He found me in my prime, while I found him in the beginnings of his maturity.****

When I imagine the scene in which our Prophet  ran home in terror after Gabriel’s first visit (ra), and how Khadijah (ra) covered him, I see a certain dynamic. I see the dynamic of Khadijah being his rock and his stability, I feel his need for her, not her need for him.   Of course, as we all know, the chance that she took on him was repaid to her in this world and the next in ways she could have never imagined.  Not only was he a loving, kind, faithful husband in the first 15 years of their marriage, he remained so even after Prophethood.  After her death, she remained in his heart.  I’m sure it had to do not only with her being a wonderful wife, but the fact that she had married an orphan with nothing to his name, supported him and helped him grow, even though she could have married any man of her choice.

And ladies, I ask you to please, don’t overlook the young men who may be struggling with studies, with finances, who may not have a house or even a car, who don’t necessarily have all the material trappings or the pedigree of a dream husband.  Don’t let it feel beneath you to marry such a man, let your maturity guide you to what’s important in a human being – character, faith, kindness. The lesson of Khadijah (ra) for us should be this: give Muhammad a chance. You never know what he’ll become with you by his side.

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/splitthemoon/2014/04/give-muhammad-a-chance/