My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.
I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughter’s life.
And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
That’s why I keep going.
I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
💛 If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on — to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.
I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.
My name is Abdelmajed.
I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries.
Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.
I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope,
but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.
I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
My name is Abdelmajed, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Everything I once knew has been taken away—my home, my safety, and the people
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety.
Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Hello, my name is saja, married to Hassan, and I am from Gaza. Life here was harder than I imagined, but today I share my story with hope in my heart, because your kindness has already given us a lot of strength.
My name is Hassan Shamiya, a 28-year-old lawyer from Gaza. I am married to Saja Abdu, a 22-year-old accounting student currently in her thir
This trip wasn't easy. The war took members of the family from all of us as if it were a beautiful soul that we loved very much. Their laughter, their presence, their love... It's all gone, leaving behind both precious and painful memories. Every day, I carry the weight of their loss, but I also carry their soul, which gives me the strength to continue.
Our Journey So Far
When I first reached out, I couldn't have imagined we'd make it this far. Your support has been a light in these difficult times, and we are so deeply grateful for every single contribution.
But the road ahead is still challenging. Every day, we're reminded of how much we've lost and how much we still need to rebuild.
Here's what life in Gaza looks like for my family right now:
🏡Safety: Tomorrow's uncertainty weighs down.
😢Loss: The absence of the family members we lost is
The pain we carry at every moment.
💔Dreams in wait: the future seems too far away when surviving
It takes all our strength.
How You Can Help Us Cross the Finish Line Even the smallest act of kindness can make a difference:
• $5 may seem small, but for us, it's a little relief, a moment of comfort, and a reminder that kindness still exists.
• Can't donate? Reblog this post to help us reach someone who can. Every share matters more than you know.
My name is Hassan Shamiya, a 28-year-old lawyer from Gaza. I am married to Saja Abdu, a 22-year-old accounting student currently in her thir
Why Your Support Matters Your kindness isn't just about helping us meet our goal-it's about reminding us that we're not alone in this fight. It's about hope. It's about survival. And it's about giving my family a chance to rebuild our lives, even in the face of unimaginable loss.
Thank you for helping us get this far. Your generosity and compassion have already brought us closer to a better tomorrow, and for that, l'm endlessly grateful.
🌟 A Cry for Help: My Family’s Struggle to Survive in Gaza 🌟
🙌Verified by Butterfly effect project line 355
Before everything I'm writing this and my kids are starving they don't have anything to eat. I'm begging you to save my kids from this famine 🙏🙏‼️🥺🙏
Hello, my name is Areej Kassab. I’m a 27-year-old English teacher and writer from Gaza, and I’m reaching out to you with a heavy heart and a desperate plea for support. My family and I are enduring unimaginable hardships as relentless bombings devastate our home and our dreams.
We are a family of 15—10 adults and 5 children. Every day is a battle for survival. Food is scarce, humanitarian aid is not reaching us, and my little nieces and nephews go to bed hungry. Among them is my sister, who is deaf, and another sister who has a newborn baby. They, too, are suffering in this crisis, and I’m doing everything I can to protect and provide for them.
💔 A Life in Ruins
The war has robbed us of everything: safety, peace, and even the hope of a future here. My family’s needs are basic yet critical—food, clean water, diapers for the babies, gas for cooking, and other essentials to make it through each day.
With rising prices and limited access to necessities, we are struggling to provide even the most basic items. My sister’s home has been destroyed, and we are working together to ensure everyone has shelter, food, and warmth.
✨ My Plea for Your Support ✨
I’m a writer, and I’ve been documenting the harsh realities faced by my community under siege. But words can only do so much. We need action, and we need help. Your kindness can save us.
🙏 How You Can Help
Donate: Every contribution, no matter how small, brings us closer to securing the essentials we desperately need.
Share Our Story: If you can’t donate, please share this post to help us reach others who can.
Your support will help provide food for the children, clean water for my family, and basic supplies to help us survive this unimaginable crisis.
Thank you for reading, for caring, and for standing in solidarity with us. Together, we can create a lifeline for my family—a chance to live, to dream, and to hope again.
With love and gratitude,
Areej Kassab ❤️
You can share or donate this ⬇️
My name is Melissa and I am supporting Areej to help her fami… Melissa Saul needs your support for Areej's Family Needs Help
Dear friends, kind hearts, and everyone who has stood with us,
When I first opened my heart to the world and shared our story, I never imagined the amount of love and solidarity we would receive. Thanks to your incredible support, we’ve now reached $12,837—a milestone that brings real light to some very dark days.
From the deepest corners of my heart, thank you.
💔 A Journey of Loss, but Also of Strength
As many of you know, I’ve lost 25 of my loved ones during this devastating war. That grief lives with me every single day. It’s in the silence that once held laughter, in the empty spaces where we once gathered as a family.
But through your help, I’ve also felt something else: hope. And that hope is priceless.
“21/Oct/2023 Before It Reached Us: The Day Our Neighbor’s House Was Destroyed”
A quiet moment of fear, filmed just before everything changed.
“22/Oct/2023 The Morning After: Our Family Home in Ruins”
This is what was left behind after the bombing of our home.
🌿 What Life Looks Like for Us Now
Despite everything, we’re still here.
Still surviving. Still hoping.
But things have only gotten harder.
The war has returned, more brutal than before—and for over a month now, Gaza has been completely sealed off. No food is coming in. No medical supplies. No aid. No trade. No one is allowed to leave, and no one is allowed to enter.
We’re trapped.
🏚 We live with the fear of tomorrow, every single day. Airstrikes, drones, and the uncertainty of what might happen next.
👨👩👧 Our family is forever changed—we haven’t just lost people; we’ve lost pieces of ourselves.
📉 Basic needs go unmet—even clean water feels like a luxury now. Medicines, if they exist at all, are unreachable.
And yet…
Your support reminds us that we’re not forgotten. It reminds us that someone, somewhere, is still listening. That someone still cares. That we’re not completely alone in this.
Every message. Every share. Every dollar. It tells us:
You’re walking this road with us.
And that gives us the strength to keep going.
💖 What You Can Do
If you’ve already donated—thank you beyond words.
If you can share our story again, it could reach someone who can help.
Even $5 means warmth, comfort, and a chance to breathe a little easier.
My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Life as I knew it has been completely destroyed. I have lost my home, my
✨ Why It All Matters
This isn’t just about reaching a fundraising goal. It’s about surviving war with dignity.
It’s about believing in tomorrow. It’s about making sure my daughter grows up knowing that the world did not look away.
Thank you for your kindness, patience, and belief in our humanity.
You’ve helped me find my voice—and I will use it to keep hope alive.
🙏 From the Heart: A Quiet Apology
There’s something I need to say—something that’s been on my heart for some time.
When I first began sharing our story, I didn’t know what the right way was. I was scared, grieving, and trying to protect my family in any way I could. I reached out to many people, hoping someone, anyone, would see us. In that process, I now realize I may have overstepped, and I might have made some feel overwhelmed.
If that happened, I am truly sorry.
Please believe me when I say it was never out of disregard or pushiness. It came from a place of fear—fear of being forgotten, fear of not being able to keep my family safe, fear of watching everything I love slip away in silence.
I’m learning as I go. I’ve slowed down. I’m more mindful now, trying to share our journey in a way that feels respectful of the space and hearts of those listening.
If my words ever came at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, I hope you can understand where they came from—and I hope you can forgive me.
Thank you for seeing past my mistakes. Thank you for still being here. It means more than I can ever explain.
With love and endless gratitude,
Mosab and family ♥️
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