Have Your Say – Share Your Inspirations
H.O.P.E. seeks contributions written by its donors, sponsors and volunteers on topics that have inspired them – books they have read, movies they have seen, talks they have attended. Depending on your preference and choice, it could be a short, memorable article, a heart-touching picture or poem, or an inspiring story that relates to H.O.P.E’s vision and mission. You could also send us your contributions in the form of ideas, comments, inspirations and recommendations for inclusion. Here are the selected entries for H.O.P.E.’s first newsletter, March 2014 issue.
Once upon a time… there lived a boy named Ali!
This is true story I heard from my father. I felt really sad after hearing what a six year old had to go through. Here is a story of Ali who became an orphan.
Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Ali. He was six years old. Ali was a well-off child who lived in a beautiful home with loving parents. His father worked at a bike store. His mother was a stay-at-home mom. Ali loved both his parents very much, but was always closer with his father. Not only did Ali’s father buy him everything he asked for, but he also spent a lot of time playing with Ali. Ali was very thankful for having such an amazing father. He especially loved all the different kinds of icecream his father often bought for him.
Ali was used to being dropped off and picked up from school every day. One day his father never came to pick Ali up. After waiting for a long time, his teacher finally called his mother to come pick Ali up. Once Ali got home with his mother, they started to get worried about where his father could be.
They tried to call his cell phone and got no answer. Then, they started calling all of his father’s friends. One of Ali’s father friends, Uncle Iqbal, told his mother that his father got shot and died right away. Ali watched his phone drop onto the floor when the call ended. When Ali asked his mother what’s wrong, she didn’t respond. Instead, she grabbed Ali’s hand and started running out of their house. After what seemed like a long time, they finally reached their destination – the hospital.
They asked different people for directions. Soon enough, they reached the room they were looking for: room 101. There, Ali saw a body covered with a white sheet. Red stains bordered the edges of the sheet. When he saw his mother moving like a robot towards that white sheet, Ali wondered what they were doing in a stranger’s room. He then saw his mother’s hands beginning to tremble. With watery eyes making her vision blurry, Ali’s mother slowly moved the white sheet. Ali was curious. He moved up to see who is sleeping on the bed. But what Ali saw was something that he wasn’t able to understand: a man that looked like his father. The man slept peacefully on the bed, except he was covered in blood. Ali was confused. The man didn’t respond no matter how many times Ali’s mother called out to him. The doctors then entered the room and started talking to his mother.
“We are sorry for your loss.”
“It was quick.”
“Dead on the spot.”
Ali understood two things. First, that man on the bed was his father. And second, his father was asleep – forever.
Ali was too little to understand the details of what happened next. What he did understand was that – he was now an orphan. He never understood what that meant before but he now felt what it meant to be an orphan. He saw his mother struggling with everyday things. He saw that she made food but it was only enough for Ali. When he asked his mother to eat, she always said she already ate. He noticed that when he switched schools, his new school didn’t have uniforms or school bags. When he asked his mother why they moved, she told him that the new school was closer. He saw that he was starting to grow out of his clothes and told his mother he needed new ones. His mother always said that she would take him to the mall soon—a “soon” which never came.
One day a lady by the name of Aunty Banu visited his home. She was a very pleasant lady to speak with. When Ali’s mother began to cry while talking about what happened the day they lost his father, Aunty Banu gave her a long, warm hug. She said she worked for a place called H.O.P.E. She told him and his mother what H.O.P.E stands for and what they do. Ali found out that there were many other people who worked for H.O.P.E throughout the world. He also found out the nice things that they do for children like Ali, who have lost one or both parents. A couple weeks after Aunty Banu’s visit, Ali began to realize that he now had proper clothes that fit him. He also was back to his old school, studying and playing with his old friends. He also noticed that his mother began eating again with him.
Ali wasn’t able to thank Aunty Banu and her place of work enough. All he knew was that he also wanted to be a part of H.O.P.E to bring hope into some other child’s life. Ali and his mother have been a part of H.O.P.E ever since he heard what they believe in: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”.
With your donations H.O.P.E is able to help hundreds of orphans like Ali. Help them create hope in the lives of the orphans all around the world. Remember Imam Ali’s will to his kids “do not forget the orphans”.
(A story 6 year old Zahara Batool Ali, Canada)
Journey full of Hope…
Waking up to an empty space
I do not recognize this place
Everything I had is gone
Tears behind my eyes have sprung
Face reality yet again
All my visions have gone vain
I ask what his intentions are
Will my progression ever go that far?
What is life? And why am I here?
Is my time to be with my family near?
Time will heal all wounds, they say
Be in my shoes – my thoughts astray
What was, is now nothing but a memory
The proof is buried six feet down at the cemetery
I know I am not alone – alone I cannot be
So much evil in the world yet people live happily?
What is that one thing that puts smiles on their faces?
That one thing that simultaneously reaches so many places?
HOPE – for what we all strive to live
To those with nothing, they are there to give
Believes every cloud has a silver line
At the end of the tunnel, there will always be a shine
Yes I have lost something that could never be replaced
But my anger, frustration, reasoning have been phased
I am blessed once again with a place called home
No longer empty, I am now warm
HOPE for what we all strive to live
To those with nothing, they are there to give
I wake up now no longer alone
All thanks to people, who have hearts, not stone.
(A poem by Sr. Mahvish Ali, written specifically for H.O.P.E.)
” HOPE ” in my Eyes
H – Happiness of humanity,
O – Orchard of opportunity,
P – Prescription of prosperity,
E – Energy to face reality .
Giving hope to someone is opening the door of success for anyone anywhere.
(By Sr. Samina Kazmi, Canada)
Please send your submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org latest by May 8th, 2014 and join us as a member of our newsletter team to become an active part of the literary network of H.O.P.E.
Note: We urge you to send your own original work or, alternatively, cite the reference / source with author’s name so as to respect copyright. H.O.P.E. Foundation reserves the right not to publish every submission in its Newsletter. We also reserve the right to use a submission in a later newsletter instead of the current one. Furthermore, we may make editorial changes if needed.
Remember, the best way to prepare for a sustainable future for the suffering children is to create it together. We would, therefore, like to invite everybody to submit their contributions for this upcoming newsletter.
Looking forward to receiving your submissions!