Bring Them Back Home

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When I think about home, I think about my children running through the hallway, the smell of food cooking in the kitchen, and the safety of a roof above us. But for millions of families, that sense of home no longer exists. For decades, they’ve lived under illegal occupation, oppression, and destruction. They have been cast out into the cold, where even the idea of home feels like a luxury.

I’ve met mothers who cry quietly at night because they can no longer give their children a safe place to sleep. I’ve seen children using rubble as playgrounds and heard their laughter echoing through destroyed streets. Their resilience is remarkable, but it should not be a necessity. These families deserve to come back to warmth, dignity, and the homes they’ve lost.

A family torn apart, longing for the warmth of home and safety.

The Silent Devastation of Parents

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As a mother, I often think of the mothers and fathers in Gaza, Syria, and other occupied regions. Parents who see their children running off to play, only to hear explosions moments later. Parents who sit helplessly in charity hospitals, unable to afford treatment for their injured sons and daughters. The emotional storm they endure—grieving for their children while trying to create a sense of normalcy for those who survive—is unimaginable.

No parent should have to bury a child. No parent should have to fight daily to protect their children from the consequences of someone else’s hate. And yet, this is their reality—a storm of trauma, grief, and resilience. They endure for the sake of their children and for the hope of one day returning to a home that no longer exists.

What It Means to Be Out in the Cold

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Being out in the cold isn’t just about the absence of shelter—it’s about the absence of security, of belonging, of dignity. I’ve met families who once had thriving lives—farmers, teachers, artists—reduced to holding signs at border crossings, begging for a second chance at life. They tell me, “We just want to go home.” But where is home when your house is rubble and your streets are unrecognizable?

For children, the cold isn’t just physical—it’s the isolation of being denied an education, the fear of not knowing where their next meal will come from, and the longing for a life where they can simply be kids again. The cold strips away their childhood and leaves them with scars they’ll carry for a lifetime. When I look into the eyes of these children, I see something that should shake the very foundation of our humanity. I see resilience where there should have been joy, survival where there should have been growth. These families have been stripped of the things we take for granted—the security of a roof, the certainty of a meal, the freedom to imagine a better tomorrow.

This child, one of thousands, innocent, wants to play, all she knows is truth to herself and kindness to others, an angel, and also a victim of illegal occupation and genocide. Her crime was to be born in the wrong place and to be labeled a Palestinian

These families deserve more than survival. They deserve to dream, to rebuild, and to know the warmth of home once again. Let’s make that happen—together.

Dreaming should be every child’s right, not a luxury. They dream of safety, education, and a home where their laughter echoes freely. Together, we can transform despair into determination and homelessness into hope. This is not a task for someone else. It is not a problem for governments alone to solve or a cause too big for us to tackle. It is personal. It is about stepping forward, hand in hand, to show these families that the world has not forgotten them. We must move beyond survival. We must fight for their right to thrive. To rebuild a life where laughter replaces fear and children can grow without the shadow of war stealing their innocence. To remind them—and ourselves—that humanity’s greatest strength lies in our ability to care, to act, and to bring them back home.

The warmth of home is not just a shelter—it’s dignity, belonging, and the assurance that tomorrow holds promise. With your help, we can restore this warmth and remind them that they are not forgotten. This isn’t just a request for financial assistance it’s the wake up call, that we must all look ourselves in the mirror and be truthful. Are we willing to walk away from those who were born with no chance when we have so much to be grateful for and take for granted? If it was your child, what would you ask the world to do? Would you want the world to fall silent on your children’s cries for help?