We were informed that she’s sick and on with her fourth chemotherapy cycle.

Nobody knew that but when we did it was chaos.

Our ex-schoolmate, the sweet girl that used to live with us for 5 years had cancer! We had to do something about it! There were countless mails asking and answering. The husband and family were being contacted. We want to do something about it and you should resort to tell us what we want.

Pronto.

Give us your bank account. We’ll send some money. You poor, poor girl. And the baby? Whatever will happen to the baby? She’s barely a year. In United Kingdom everything is expensive and they will need to move to another house soon. They need money, that’s what they need and we’re going to give some.

It took just one sick girl to revert us back to the go-getter girls we once were. There was enough love to send to outerspace and to the neighboring universes. But we need more. She doesn’t just need money, she needs support, prayers, anything that makes her smile.

So an event was proposed.

There were about 14 girls at the mosque. We sat and prayed and dedicate good things to her, hoping that He would lift a little bit of her burden, makes everything a little bit easier, so her smile would be a little bit wider, and the child would stay with her longer, that her spirit is a little bit stronger and more and more love surrounding her.

I noticed the nicest thing that day.

The Imam (the man in charge of the mosque – the one that leads the prayer) read something passed to him on the microphone and he appeared clueless in the middle of the sentence.

‘Today we have the honor to read the following Sura (Quran chapter/verses) and dedicate it to our friend’s (name of the man) wife’s friend (pause)..err..his wife’s friend was diagnosed with sarcoma cancer…’

It hit me that the man was there because of one reason. His love for his wife. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know the sick girl but as this is important for his wife so he arranged for the recital, the food, the audience. He’s not the only husband that came. Most of the girls came along with their husbands and children.

If this is not love then I don’t know what it is.

That’s not all. The audience supported the same cause. We read together and in the end there were some refreshments prepared. They thanked the girls and get on their way back home.

Meanwhile the girls tried to catch up but 2 hours was not enough. And we promised to keep in touch but things are not as well planned as it’s used to be. The reality is back on us, tugging our sleeves and we just had to go back to our lives. There are jobs, time limit, nappy changes, pregnancies, husbands, Mother-in-Laws, neighbors, family, shifts, nannies, etc. The unbelievable list of constraints.

But the sick girl got us to sit down and pray and hope and forget about the constraints for 2 short hours, just like we did every Thursday night after Maghrib (evening prayer) in 1996-2000.

We were those girls again.

13 years and the sick girl brought it back in 2 hours.

May God return her health and love in abundance.

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