I want to preface this letter by saying that wherever you stand, in regards to the Palestine and Israel conflict, for the sake of the significant message that I want to convey, I want to encourage you to read this letter and take it in disregarding any personal feelings or beliefs you may currently hold. Whether you feel strongly about a particular side or you know nothing about the complexities of this conflict, I want you to read this letter without any preconceived notions or bias for the sole purpose of not taking away from the key message of this letter.
Dear precious children of Gaza,
My heart painfully aches for you. My heart goes out to all the Palestinian men and women, but it especially stings for you, the children living in Gaza because no child should live how you’re living.
When I think back on my own life, I think about how differently we grew up.
At 4 years old, I upgraded from a crib to a bed and my parents tucked me in each night. They buried me under blankets and stuffed animals. At 4 years old, you sleep on the concrete, rocky ground, and your parents are dead so you have no one to tuck you in at night. You lie there struggling to breathe for you are buried under rubble. I’m sorry. I never realized that this was a luxury.
At 6 years old, my biggest worry was not being able to fall asleep due to the sound of roaring thunder and rain dripping outside my window. At 6 years old, your biggest worry is struggling to fall asleep due to the continuous sound of bomb explosions and the fear of the gunshots blaring near you. I’m sorry. I never realized that this was a luxury.
At 12 years old, I learned to do my own laundry and wash the grass stains I acquired from playing at school, out of my clothes. At 12 years old, you are scrubbing the blood stains out of your clothes that you gained from holding your little sister’s body as she bled out to death. I’m sorry. I never realized that this was a luxury.
At 16 years old, I learned to drive a car and take myself wherever I desire. At 16 years old, you were driven out of your home with no place to go. I’m sorry. I never realized that this was a luxury.
By 30 years old I hope to be married, have kids, and raise a family. By 30 years old you hope that you’re still alive. You don’t want to have children or a spouse because who would want to raise a family in a life as deteriorated as this. I’m sorry I never realized that this hope was a luxury.
I’m sorry that every morning you wake up, you wake up with this ongoing fear in your heart. I’m sorry that every morning you wake up nothing has changed. I’m sorry that every morning you wake up you wish you hadn’t. I’m sorry that every morning you wake up you’re still living as a child in Gaza.
You are only children, you don’t deserve to wonder so much. You don’t deserve to wonder where your next meal is coming from. You don’t deserve to wonder if you’ll have shelter or a place to sleep each night. You don’t deserve to wonder if you’re going to survive another day.
You are only children, you don’t deserve to lose so much. You don’t deserve to lose your parents so young. You don’t deserve to lose your home so young. You don’t deserve to lose your lives so young.
You are only children, you deserve better. You deserve better support and protection from the rest of the world. You deserve better, because you deserve to be a kid. You deserve to have fun birthday parties to celebrate your life, you deserve to eat dinner every night and even occasionally eat at fancy restaurants and still order chicken tenders, you deserve to jump rope at school, I mean, you deserve to go to school. You deserve to live like a kid.
Although you might have no one in this world to let you know these things, I want to tell you, and I want you to know that you are beautiful, you are loved, you are strong, and you are the victim. You have done nothing to deserve this unimaginable suffering.
And so as I conclude this letter to the children of Gaza, and as I wrap up this article I want all of you readers to think more. Think about the media you’re watching, think about the debates you’re having, but ultimately if you only do one thing, think about the children of Gaza and pray for them. Think about the kids who don’t get to live like kids. Take time to think about them and keep them in your prayers.
Next time you complain about the sound of the loud freeway that kept you up at night, think about the children of Gaza who are hearing bomb explosions as they sleep. Next time you complain about going to school, think about the children of Gaza who pray and wish they could go to school. Next time you complain about a fight you had with your mother, think about the children of Gaza who are mourning the death of their mother. I urge you to stop and take a moment to think about the children of Gaza.
