Her name... let's just call her Kate.
I was a second-year student in medical school.
September 2004. Dublin was brown with autumn - and winter was drawing near. The first-year students had just arrived. I was introduced to Kate at a meet-the-juniors event.
My first impression of Kate was that she was pretty. She wasn't dressed to kill, or something. In fact, she looked rather shabby. Her tanned, squarish face wore not a hint of make-up - and her jet-black hair, although scraped back neatly into a knot behind her head, was dull and tired-looking. However, there was still something elegant and graceful about her that mesmerised me so. Perhaps, it was her eyes.
She gave me a polite smile. A smile that did not quite reach her eyes.
Whatever.
While the rest of our lady juniors reminded me of clean slates, ready to be inscribed with all the mysteries that medical school was to unravel for the next 5-6 years, Kate had not the fresh, naive and eager face that each of them possessed. To be fair, she was older than most of them, having accomplished her first degree in another field of science... and so, she could have been less impressed (and more cynical, haha).
We exchanged hand-phone numbers. I doubted if Kate would need mine.
Well, it turned out later, that Kate did need some help with her registration with the Garda National Immigration Bureau (as a newcomer to Ireland) - and so, she texted me. After a couple of texts to-and-fro, I was led to accompany her to the GNIB. Much to my surprise, she did not turn down my offer.
We talked as we walked. The pleasant weather that morning did much to help us warm up to each other. I learned more about Kate. Her home country. Her rather complicated family background. Her anger toward her father. Her bitterness toward the Church (for some reason) and thus, her decision to quit attending church all together. Her previous degree. Her determination to spend the least she could while doing medicine in Dublin so that she wouldn't have to depend much on her father, financially. I just listened.
After we were done at the GNIB, she asked if I would like to accompany her grocery-shopping in the city centre. I didn't see why not, so I agreed gladly.
I was blown away by Kate's familiarity with the city centre - at least with the stores that gave the best value for our money. Her prudence made me rather ashamed of myself, for obvious reasons.
I remember going home, feeling very inspired and moved by the whole encounter.
We became friends that winter. We texted each other. We chatted about forgiveness (she forgave her father). We even met up a couple of times to pray. We talked about the Bible. I learned to be less legalistic about things - and more compassionate. Eventually, she recommitted her life to Jesus - and began attending mass at a church near RCSI.
Sometimes, she would surprise me with small gifts. In return, I sometimes topped up her prepaid mobile phone credit without letting her know. It turned out to be quite fun.
And then, just as randomly as she had entered my life, she faded away. Not in a bad sense, I think. She found a group of friends with whom she had much in common and stuck with them. They helped her to loosen up, smile and laugh. She lost her harassed look - and grew even prettier. While I missed her, I was thankful that God was healing her in His own ways.
Today, I still think of her often. I think of the lessons God taught me through our friendship. I remember how mightily God had worked in her life - and how privileged I was to witness much of it. And I am grateful that her path had crossed mine, even for that short season in time.
I only wish that we had taken a photograph of us, for keepsake.
Kate, whoever and wherever you are.... thank you.
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