I am 15 years old, and I live in a Charlie Chaplin world. That is, I am completely and utterly blind to colours. No, not in the sense that I can’t differentiate red from green, I don’t even know what red or green looks like. All that I can see is black, grey and white.

Not that it matters to me. I don’t blame anyone or anything for my condition. Maybe I should, perhaps I do have the right to be angry, but I don’t. It’s pointless, really; life is too short to be worrying about colours or the lack thereof. It’s not exactly that I don’t want to see colour, I do want to observe the glory that the Lord has made in all its colourful splendour, but really, it’s beautiful enough as it is.

So here I am, sitting in a congregation, singing my heart out to the Lord my Father. Did I mention I love music? When one has a dilapidated sense of sight he tends to appreciate the other senses more. Cliché it may be, but it is true. Sing, sing, sing. The sermon was pretty interesting; it was on God’s will or something like that. When it was over, the pastor closed us in prayer, and then it was time for us to partake of the Sacrament of the Holy Communion (is that the full name of it?). Same as always, grey wafer as substitute for bread, grey (what is this taste?) juice as a substitute for wine, or rather, Jesus’ body and blood respectively. Eat, drink, pray.

So now service was over, which meant it was time for our cell group sessions, but I decided to pop over at the cafeteria and grab a drink first. All that singing does leave your throat a little dry. And there I saw her. I scanned her, starting from her feet up (I always start with the feet). Worn-out Converse sneakers, hipster jeans with studded belt, a white top (yes, I can tell black and white for the most part) with “SPACE ODDITY” emblazoned on in black. Beautiful grey hair and skin, and beautiful, beautiful grey eyes hidden behind dark-rimmed glasses. Familiar white headphones reached her dainty ears from her pocket. Incredible.

I stepped behind her in the queue and an unusual, but pleasant fragrance entered my nostrils. God, it was wonderful (I know I’m not supposed to use God’s name in vain, but surely for something this heavenly He’d understand). This close to her, I even managed to catch the tune of the song pumping out of her headphones as well. It was some song by The Clash. If I didn’t know better I would have fallen in love with her that very instant.

I didn’t see the need to talk to her, we probably wouldn’t become friends, or anything. Unless God’s will was that we would, in which case it would only be a matter of time anyway. So I followed the queue, bought a Coke, and headed towards the room where my cell group was held. Just like always. And then something curious happened. All the way she walked ahead of me, and I was partially surprised to see her enter the room my feet were bringing me to.

We sat on chairs arranged neatly into a circle. She sat directly opposite me. I was in need of an explanation, but we had to pray first as always, and so we did. Pray, pray, pray. Then our cell leader introduced her to us. She was a year older than me, excelled at her studies (her face turned a different shade of grey at this), and she had acute leukaemia.

We fell a bit silent, but then our cell leader proceeded to inform us that she had come here in hope of some purpose in whatever was left of her life, and if it was God’s will, healing. Apparently, she had refused to undergo chemotherapy under the urging of her Christian friends, who managed to convince her that if it is God’s will, let it be. Let it be.

And so we prayed, especially so over her body, her disease, and other related things like her family and all that. God likes it better if you go into details. It shows that you care, and I did care. People tend to care for beautiful things, and she was beautiful, greyscale or no. (Oh, to see her in her full splendour!)

We said “amen”, and then cell was over. We spent a while chatting outside. She hadn’t said a word the whole time during cell, but now she was chatting confidently with the others. I was about to approach her to formally say ‘hi’ and all that but then all of a sudden, I noticed something uncomfortably peculiar. There was something about her greyness, something invisible to normal, colour-seeing eyes, which rendered her almost ethereal; it surrounded her with a wraithlike aura which frightened me. It was almost as if she were already dead. I saw her glance in my direction a couple of times, with a somewhat puzzled look in her eyes. I would quickly avert my gaze to stare at the cross above the doorway of the main sanctuary. Black and white, black and white, this was what kept me safe.

So then we left the church grounds, and I was more than a little disappointed that I had yet to properly hear her voice. It was really what I had been most looking forward to. I’ve cultivated an almost appreciation for voices, the different intonations, accents. I’m sure her voice would have been beautiful. But no matter, there was always next week (if she were still alive, that is).

My home wasn’t far from church, and I usually walked home straight after. And so I walked, and walked, taking in the various (black and white) sights, sounds and scents around me. This was what kept life meaningful, marvelling at every single one of God’s wonderful creations. But then, amidst all the beauty, I was suddenly struck by a great shadow I saw ahead. It was unmistakable. It was her.

I kept my distance and stalked her. It did feel a little strange acting so secretive and all, in fact following her in the first place was incredibly out of the ordinary for me, but I found myself irresistibly drawn to do it, despite her sudden, scary etherealness and all. I was wondering where she would bring me, perhaps to some tempting wonderland, or an impossible Hades? It didn’t matter, really, I had no choice in the matter; my feet were pulling me forwards, so what for resist?

But then I found myself heading down a road too familiar, in the end turning into the Norwegian Wood condominium. I continued to follow her; into a block, up the stairs, till my feet finally stopped right in front of my doorstep. She was no longer ahead of me by then, she had turned into one of the apartments two floors below.

My brain was racing. She lives in the same block as I do? I had personally never seen her before, and I was sure that I would notice someone like her. Then again, I can’t say for sure I’ve seen everybody living in my block. But, this was just amazing. It must be something that God had planned. I knew it at once, though it’s impossible to explain how. It was like how you know how a tree is a tree, you don’t know exactly why, but you just know it is.

I entered my house, then I got on the computer. I checked my e-mail, surfed around a few websites, but got bored rather quickly with staring at the black and white screen. My mind seemed to be fixated on one thing only now. That girl, and also that feeling, the one that I knew God had sent me. Okay, that makes two things then. Nevertheless, it was a worrying situation. After all, I had learnt to focus on God and God alone, and now I was getting distracted by this girl I hardly even knew. Then again, I did believe it was God who had sent me such feelings.

The only way was to pray, really. So I sat down on my bed and just started praying. And as I prayed, her image only grew clearer and clearer, every grey, black or white line becoming less and less blurred. It was impossible. Then it struck me as clear as black and white clear can be. God was calling me to her. It was strange, but I knew it at once. Just like you know a tree is a tree when you see it.

It was impossible to resist from then on. Why resist God? I headed down, though I hadn’t even eaten dinner yet, telling my parents I was taking a walk, which I did quite often anyway. My feet stopped me right at her doorstep and I reached for the grey doorbell and pressed down.

Ding-dong.

There was no response for about ten seconds. Normally I would have waited longer, but the urgency of the situation drove me to press the doorbell again.

Ding-dong.

The lock clicked, the doorknob turned and the door was opened. And the first thing that I saw then was her black and white face. She stared at me for a moment, and then she spoke.

“Um… Come on in.”

Her voice was incredulously beautiful. I was ostentatiously reminded of the doorbell. Ding-dong. It echoed in my brain for several moments.

I proceeded to sit on her sofa, where evidently she had been seated before. And then we just sat there, next to each other, staring at a television that wasn’t even switched on. I had to speak, if just to break the silence.

“What are colours like?” I asked carefully.

A confused expression masked her face.

“Oh, I’m colour-blind, in the most literal sense of the words too. I only know what black, grey and white look like,” I explained.

“Oh,” she replied. Ding-dong. “Colours make the world beautiful. Imagine a sound. Music. Every note has its own tone, its own shade. Colours are like notes that you can see.” She paused. “I’m sorry about your condition. I’ve always hated those black and white movies.”

“I think the world still is beautiful,” I replied. “Maybe cause I’ve never seen colours so I have no comparison. But everything that God has made is perfect in my eyes.”

We kept quiet for a moment. She spoke first.

“You know, I’m afraid of dying,” she said, a slight tremble in her perfect voice. “I know I’ll be in heaven, but I guess I can’t let go of this world. It’s so beautiful, I’m so afraid of the things I’ll miss.”

“Heaven is much more beautiful than you can possibly imagine. I, for one, am sure that I’ll be able to see colour in heaven.” I said softly.

“I guess,” she said.

“I don’t believe I caught your name,” I said. “My name’s Val.”

“My name’s Sara.” She smiled. “It’s funny what normal names we have, for two abnormal people.”

I nodded.

“God must have sent you to me,” Sara said. “I just know it.”

Just like how trees are trees.

I felt an impulse, and upon that the fearsome aura once again surrounded her, but I was no longer daunted. I held her hand, leaned forward, and kissed her right on her lips. She kissed back. And we just stayed there, enveloped around each other, and then, for the slightest moment, a revelation came to me. I saw heaven, in all its glory and splendour. This was what colour was then, this was what flavoured every surface of the world. It was impossibly beautiful, almost as beautiful as Sara was.

At that very moment, we broke our kiss, embraced and started crying. And I just said three words aloud.

“Praise the Lord.”