Some encounters are so special they leave a lasting mark on your soul—moments too meaningful to share with just anyone. Mine happened long ago, and it’s a memory I still hold close.
It was a busy day at church. We’d spent the afternoon sharing the Good News at Luneta Park, and afterward, our pastor asked me to accompany another church leader for home visitations. I was originally supposed to teach a Bible study group, but plans shifted, and the pastor assigned me to lead a group I had never met before.
As one of the younger Bible study leaders, I often felt intimidated by the more seasoned ones who could quote scripture effortlessly. Still, despite my nerves, I truly loved teaching the Bible.
My friend Virgie, who normally led this group, asked me to step in. Their meeting place was close to my home, so I was excited to meet everyone and connect. I couldn’t wait to share ideas and grow together in faith.
When we arrived, I immediately noticed one guy who seemed familiar—his name was Edwin. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen him before, especially because of the mole on his chin, something I would never forget. When I asked where he studied, he said he went to a Chinese school. I mentioned that I went to Lourdes School, and to my surprise, he said he was a Marian too! Meeting his family and church friends in their living room felt oddly special.
Then it hit me—the same mole he had was also on my chin. I was supposed to lead the study, but the words wouldn’t come. I just wanted to run and hide in my room. I remember glancing at the clock—it was 6:03 PM—and Edwin was looking at me, waiting for me to speak. Somehow, with a little nudge from the Holy Spirit, I managed to finish the lesson.
I grew up in a pretty strict family, where dating wasn’t allowed until after college. I always dreamed my first boyfriend would be my future husband—the classic fairytale. I believed in the idea of one special person meant for you and often wondered whether I had already met him or if I still would. Edwin’s mom described him as my ideal type: hardworking, family-oriented, athletic, active in student council, and serving with the Marian group. He checked all the boxes—except for one. He was moving to Canada after graduation.
We grew very close, and Edwin was always there when I needed help. I remember one time when someone was bothering me at work, and he came to pick me up. I was surprised he brought his friends and a big van just to make sure I got home safely. I knew I could count on him. The day we said goodbye was one of the saddest days of my life. It was dark and drizzly. We had a serious talk, and the sadness in his eyes nearly broke me. I didn’t tell him my U.S. visa had been denied—he had no idea. But he was still leaving for Canada. We said goodbye without knowing it would be our last. That night, it felt like a piece of me was missing.
The day I met Edwin was one of those ordinary yet extraordinary days. When I looked into his eyes, everything else faded, and it felt like just the two of us in that room. Even now, I can still picture it clearly, like it happened yesterday.
Our relationship felt more like a deep friendship. He was the first guy I ever dated. We went to church together, had long conversations, grabbed food at our favorite McDonald’s on Retiro Street, and sometimes just wandered around SM City EDSA. One day, we realized we didn’t want to lose each other. Maybe it was fear, or maybe something deeper. Even though he knew I dreamed of becoming a nurse in the U.S., I never told him about my application. We even did an impulsive blood compact—cutting our arms, pressing them together, and making a promise not to part ways.
I still remember the time he wrote our names in Chinese—Eemin and Meili. I cherished that piece of paper, even though I eventually lost it. Eemin and Mei Li—Edwin and Grace. Those memories remain vivid, even after all these years. Everything else since then has been a blur, but those moments are forever etched in my heart.
