In our temporary shelter in Idlib, a small haven for children separated from their families, every cry, every giggle, and every first step carries a story.
He arrived with a small note bearing his name
Tim
One morning, the team welcomed a new arrival — a fragile newborn wrapped in a thin blanket, with a tiny note tucked beside him. On it, in soft handwriting, was just one word: “Tim.”
The note told us that his mother, overcome by hardship and poverty, could no longer care for him. It was an act born not from neglect, but from love — a hope that someone, somewhere, could give him the life she wished she could.
When Tim arrived, he was suffering from meningitis and in urgent need of medical care. Our team immediately referred him to a local hospital, where he was placed in an incubator for 20 days. Every day, our Case Management team checked on him, monitoring his progress and coordinating his treatment until, finally, his tiny body began to heal.
When he returned to the shelter, our caregivers — “the mothers,” as we call them — welcomed him home. They bathed him gently, dressed him in clothes small enough for his fragile frame, and gave him his first bottle feeding. It wasn’t easy; until then, he had only been fed through a syringe. But slowly, with patience and tenderness, he began to drink — and to live.
Today, Tim is healthy, alert, and loved. He spends his days surrounded by warmth and care, waiting — like the other little ones in our shelter — for his chance to join a permanent, loving family.
His story reminds us why our temporary shelter exists: to be a bridge between abandonment and belonging, between survival and safety. It is the first chapter in a child’s new story — one written in love, dignity, and hope.
