A Note from a Palestinian’s Wife

Hi, my name is Dori. I’m 27. I’m American and I have family members dying in Gaza. Over 25 family members have died in less than two weeks time. I have not even had the chance to meet them. I should clarify they are not of my flesh and blood, you see, I am married to a Palestinian man. They are his relatives, his blood, but when you marry someone their family becomes your own. I can’t say I know their names, their ages, or even that I could recognize their faces. Yet, my lack of memories haunts my hurting heart. I don’t like war; I dream of hope, peace and love. But in days like these, when so many heart-breaking things are taking place in our world, I struggle to feel others are hoping with me. Days- when empathy and love are lacking and judgment and anger blinds.

I wish I could protect my husband from the lack of awareness and the hatred. I wish I could say these things weren’t alive and well in my home country, culture, or with in Christianity. But I see it. Forget politics. Are we to show lack of disdain for human life? Even in a community known to defend the unborn, is this community supporting the death of innocent people? What is our definition of justice? Where is our love? Should I have to listen to my husband re-tell me a stranger’s questions such as, “So you guys are the ones bombing Israel?”

I know one thing, though I struggle, I pray for peace and hope in our world. The unbiased kind, the kind that only comes from a loving God’s heart.