‼️ Urgent our family: 4 orphaned children in need of a home and care ‼️
Please Dont Skip 🙏
I am OM Yasser… In the Shuja'iyya in gaza, my husband, Abu Yasser, built our world. Our house was modest, but it was a palace in every sense of the word. Its walls held stories of his love for us, and its floor was the stage for the laughter of my four children.
Yasser (12 years old)… ambitious and a dreamer, he wanted to become an engineer. Layan (10 years old)… with her wide eyes, she dreamed of becoming a doctor. Adam (7 years old)… my shy child, he loved playing ball with his father in the alley.
Yasmin (5 years old)… her father's darling, her laughter was like the ringing of a bell, filling the house with joy.
That night… all I remember is the air raid sirens.
It wasn't like any other night… our world turned upside down in the blink of an eye. The house collapsed, reduced to a pile of reinforced concrete and dust… and our shattered memories.
From those ruins, I salvaged the remains of my dreams. I lost my husband… the pillar of our family, our comforting presence. There's no longer a home to shelter us, no father to protect us. We are homeless, without a provider, without a past.
I am Om Yasser... In the Shuja'iyya in gaza, my husband, Abu Yasser, built our world. Our house was modest, but it was a palace in every sen
Today… we live in a tent.
A tent made of tattered canvas… Yasser carries a responsibility far beyond his years, trying to be the man of the family, but his eyes hold a terror he can't hide. He tells me, "Father promised we'd rebuild the roof together… who will help me now?"
Layan… who used to draw houses and gardens, no longer holds a pen. Now she draws only smoke and destruction. One cold night, as she held me close for warmth, she whispered in my ear, "Mama, has Father forgotten the way back because there's so much destruction?"
And Adam… he's no longer that energetic child. He sits silently, staring into space, then suddenly bursts into tears because he wants his father to play with him. Their only game now is chasing after pieces of bread.
Yasmin… her laughter no longer rings out. Every night she asks me, "Did Dad go to work and will he be back?" Then she falls asleep on my chest, which is empty of everything but tears.
I am Om Yasser... In the Shuja'iyya in gaza, my husband, Abu Yasser, built our world. Our house was modest, but it was a palace in every sen
I… a mother who refuses to break.
My heart is torn between my grief for my husband and my fear for my children's future. But I refuse to give up. I hold my four children's hands and say, "My children are all that remains of Abu Yasser in this world. I will fight for them until my last breath."
My goal is clear and painful:
I want to rebuild a small house… not a palace, just a safe, small home where we can shelter from the cold and the heat.
I want to secure my children's future… to send them back to school, to provide them with the treatment to heal their invisible wounds, to ensure that their childhood hasn't died completely under the rubble.
I implore you… don't leave us alone.
Save my family from living on the margins of life. Your donation isn't just money; it's a brick of hope in the wall of our new home. It's a lifeline that will bring Yasser back to school, Lian back to her drawings, Adam back to his games, and Yasmin back to her laughter.
Help me tell my children: "There is hope… there are those who love you."
From your hands to the little hands of my children… let's give them back a piece of their stolen childhood.
— Yasser's Mother
I am Om Yasser... In the Shuja'iyya in gaza, my husband, Abu Yasser, built our world. Our house was modest, but it was a palace in every sen