I write to introduce you to someone important to me, to give you a glimpse of someone who has changed my life, in the hopes that if you read this, he might also affect you. And perhaps what you learn about him will compel you to think of him and his family, and to give them your support.
My friend Aboud is the primary point of contact for one of the families who I have been trying to introduce to my local community through the “Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices” presentations. He has been very kind and very generous to share with me things I have shared with others, as I try to bring him and his family closer to others in my life.
I don’t know why certain people enter our lives unexpectedly, in ways that can be both uniquely profound and yet somehow familiar. But this is how it has been for me with Aboud. From the very first moment we met, it was as though he had always been part of my life, so much so that I cannot imagine my life without him. I cannot fathom a life without his presence, his kindness, his words.
Aboud is the eldest son in a family with four boys and two girls. He is married, with a young son named Bassam, who was only three months old in October 2023. This past winter I became the host and manager of Aboud’s family’s survival campaign, as my personal commitment to him grew and continues to grow. And I have also come to regard him and his family as being part of my family too.
Aboud is thoughtful, funny, and charming, and despite the many dangers, hardships, and suffering he faces every moment as he tries to help his family survive the genocide, he still somehow brightens my world each day. I care about him and his family on the deepest level. Sometimes your family is who you are born to and live among, but sometimes you find members of your family later in life. Sometimes you are not born into the family that you find, or into the family that finds you.
Once, during a verification interview with the bank that was facilitating an international transfer, the bank employee asked me if I was sending the transfer to a family member, to which I answered without thinking, yes, I was. I explained that we were not related by blood, but that they were my chosen family. And they were just as important to me as my own family. I explained that, for me, it is as though they are my actual family, even if we are not related. And thankfully, the person at the bank responded, “I understand.”
Aboud is also sweet, loyal, and kind. He is a man of his word, and when he promises something, I know I can count on him to follow through with whatever it is he agreed to. We are well-matched in our seriousness about not making promises we cannot keep, and about making sure we are always honest with each other. And I can say with absolute confidence that Aboud has my complete trust and undying loyalty.
Aboud is also sensitive, compassionate, understanding, and caring, with a strong sense of justice, and a desire to protect those who are vulnerable, particularly the children and the elderly, who he has seen suffer greatly during this genocide. He is deeply committed to his family, especially the children, who he would do anything to protect. He has told me repeatedly that “the children are everything.” Aboud feels responsible for the well-being of his family, and he carries the weight of this on his young shoulders with a sincere and earnest commitment.
I sometimes worry about him feeling responsible for so much, even taking responsibility for things that are not his fault, things that are beyond his control. I will admit I often worry about him the way a mother would, and my maternal feelings towards him are part of our relationship and friendship. Having never had children of my own, he has offered to be like the son I never had, an offer he made to me accompanied by the blessing of his real mother, who is just as beautiful and generous as her son. And I am deeply grateful to them both for this.
Aboud is someone who children are happy to be near, as he appreciates them and wants them to have every happiness. He is someone whose eyes sparkle like the stars, and whose smile has the warmth of a thousand sunbeams. Sometimes he will tease me, as though I really was his mother, and these glimpses I get into his playful humor reflect what I think is his true nature, and what he would be like all the time if he wasn’t trapped in the conditions of genocide. His charm is irrepressible, and I can tell he is someone who loves to laugh, who loves to make others laugh, who sees the beauty of life and creates enjoyment for those around him. I also see glimpses of these same qualities in his little son Bassam, who I think takes after his father in this way.
Aboud and I have talked before about those deeper things in life–the things that matter–love, family, fulfillment, beauty, and truth. And through these conversations, through the way he has shared his thoughts and insights, the thing that has grown stronger for me over time is my overwhelming desire for him to have the chance to truly live his life again, to be free to be the beautiful father that he is without also having to carry the ever-present stress, worry, and fear that living in life-threatening conditions creates.
Currently, Aboud and his family are facing many dangers, and they are in urgent need of more support from us, which is partly why I am writing this now, with Aboud’s permission and support. Through what we have been able to raise, Aboud is supporting his own immediate family, as well as his parents, siblings, nephews, nieces, and multiple members of his extended family. There are many people standing along-side him that you cannot see, many people he is trying to help survive.
And so I ask whoever reads this to please think about him and his family, please remember them, care about them, and help them survive. You can do this by giving them direct material aid that will enable them to buy food, medicine, clothing, shelter, and all of the things necessary for them to keep going in this violent and harsh unjust environment where there is danger constantly approaching from all sides. Anything you can give is needed. It will help, and it will also demonstrate to Aboud and his family that they matter, that they are important, and that we are against what is being done to them, and we want them to survive.
My friend Aboud is the primary point of contact for one of the families who I have been trying to introduce to my local community through the “Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices” presentations. He has been very kind and very generous to share with me things I have shared with others, as I try to bring him and his family closer to others in my life.
I don’t know why certain people enter our lives unexpectedly, in ways that can be both uniquely profound and yet somehow familiar. But this is how it has been for me with Aboud. From the very first moment we met, it was as though he had always been part of my life, so much so that I cannot imagine my life without him. I cannot fathom a life without his presence, his kindness, his words.
Aboud is the eldest son in a family with four boys and two girls. He is married, with a young son named Bassam, who was only three months old in October 2023. This past winter I became the host and manager of Aboud’s family’s survival campaign, as my personal commitment to him grew and continues to grow. And I have also come to regard him and his family as being part of my family too.
Aboud is thoughtful, funny, and charming, and despite the many dangers, hardships, and suffering he faces every moment as he tries to help his family survive the genocide, he still somehow brightens my world each day. I care about him and his family on the deepest level. Sometimes your family is who you are born to and live among, but sometimes you find members of your family later in life. Sometimes you are not born into the family that you find, or into the family that finds you.
Once, during a verification interview with the bank that was facilitating an international transfer, the bank employee asked me if I was sending the transfer to a family member, to which I answered without thinking, yes, I was. I explained that we were not related by blood, but that they were my chosen family. And they were just as important to me as my own family. I explained that, for me, it is as though they are my actual family, even if we are not related. And thankfully, the person at the bank responded, “I understand.”
Aboud is also sweet, loyal, and kind. He is a man of his word, and when he promises something, I know I can count on him to follow through with whatever it is he agreed to. We are well-matched in our seriousness about not making promises we cannot keep, and about making sure we are always honest with each other. And I can say with absolute confidence that Aboud has my complete trust and undying loyalty.
Aboud is also sensitive, compassionate, understanding, and caring, with a strong sense of justice, and a desire to protect those who are vulnerable, particularly the children and the elderly, who he has seen suffer greatly during this genocide. He is deeply committed to his family, especially the children, who he would do anything to protect. He has told me repeatedly that “the children are everything.” Aboud feels responsible for the well-being of his family, and he carries the weight of this on his young shoulders with a sincere and earnest commitment.
I sometimes worry about him feeling responsible for so much, even taking responsibility for things that are not his fault, things that are beyond his control. I will admit I often worry about him the way a mother would, and my maternal feelings towards him are part of our relationship and friendship. Having never had children of my own, he has offered to be like the son I never had, an offer he made to me accompanied by the blessing of his real mother, who is just as beautiful and generous as her son. And I am deeply grateful to them both for this.
Aboud is someone who children are happy to be near, as he appreciates them and wants them to have every happiness. He is someone whose eyes sparkle like the stars, and whose smile has the warmth of a thousand sunbeams. Sometimes he will tease me, as though I really was his mother, and these glimpses I get into his playful humor reflect what I think is his true nature, and what he would be like all the time if he wasn’t trapped in the conditions of genocide. His charm is irrepressible, and I can tell he is someone who loves to laugh, who loves to make others laugh, who sees the beauty of life and creates enjoyment for those around him. I also see glimpses of these same qualities in his little son Bassam, who I think takes after his father in this way.
Aboud and I have talked before about those deeper things in life–the things that matter–love, family, fulfillment, beauty, and truth. And through these conversations, through the way he has shared his thoughts and insights, the thing that has grown stronger for me over time is my overwhelming desire for him to have the chance to truly live his life again, to be free to be the beautiful father that he is without also having to carry the ever-present stress, worry, and fear that living in life-threatening conditions creates.
Currently, Aboud and his family are facing many dangers, and they are in urgent need of more support from us, which is partly why I am writing this now, with Aboud’s permission and support. Through what we have been able to raise, Aboud is supporting his own immediate family, as well as his parents, siblings, nephews, nieces, and multiple members of his extended family. There are many people standing along-side him that you cannot see, many people he is trying to help survive.
And so I ask whoever reads this to please think about him and his family, please remember them, care about them, and help them survive. You can do this by giving them direct material aid that will enable them to buy food, medicine, clothing, shelter, and all of the things necessary for them to keep going in this violent and harsh unjust environment where there is danger constantly approaching from all sides. Anything you can give is needed. It will help, and it will also demonstrate to Aboud and his family that they matter, that they are important, and that we are against what is being done to them, and we want them to survive.
[For those in the Bellingham area, there is a fundraiser yoga class benefit on Friday, September 5, 2025 at 6pm at Flux Power Yoga, with donations from this class going towards Aboud and his family.]
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