It was August 31, 2012—exactly one month into my new job as a Field Coordinator—when the minibus I was traveling in overturned into a canal. I was on my way back from a training visit, carrying a bag filled with health insurance cards for the families. These cards were a lifeline, giving children access to quality healthcare. At that time, only 1,000 out of 8,000 children in our program were covered.

I had been sitting in the very last seat of the bus. Strangely, the window next to me had already been broken before the accident, leaving me untouched by flying glass. Others weren’t as lucky. Panic set in as we sank deeper into the water. The passenger next to me, desperate to escape, tried to break the rear window. He struck it three times but failed. Looking back, I realized that if he had succeeded, I would have been directly beneath a rain of broken glass.

As I struggled to get out of the water, one thought gripped me: the bag of insurance cards had fallen into the canal. My heart sank. What if a child needed urgent medical care? What if someone required surgery? Replacing those cards could take months.

When we reported the accident to the health insurance company, something incredible happened. They decided to extend free health insurance to all 8,000 children in our program.

Then, a few weeks later, an unexpected call came from the local police station. They had recovered almost all the insurance cards that had been lost in the water (only 20 of them were lost).

By God’s grace, I emerged from that accident miraculously unharmed. But more than that, what seemed like a disaster turned into an unexpected blessing—every child in our program gained access to the healthcare they deserved.

In Assiut, a young girl struggled with a chronic skin condition that was closely tied to her fragile psychological state. Despite countless visits to doctors, nothing seemed to help.

Then, something changed. She joined the Valuable Girl Project, where she was paired with a “big sister” who offered her more than educational support—she gave her love, attention, and a safe space to express herself. Within just a few weeks, the girl’s skin condition improved dramatically.

He asked if she had changed her routine or started new medication. The answer was simple: the nurturing environment and emotional support she received through the project had transformed her mental well-being, which in turn healed her body. The doctor even wrote a note of thanks to the Valuable Girl Project, wishing it continued success.

The doctor even wrote a note of gratitude: “All thanks and appreciation to the Valuable Girl Project in partnership with the Baladi CDA. I hope for its expansion and continued success.”

This story resonated deeply with me, after I witnessed something similar with someone close to me who was healed after their mental state improved.

It’s a powerful reminder of the healing power of love, rooted in Jesus’ words: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.” (John 13:34)

The bond between the two girls is a living embodiment of this commandment. The big sister didn’t just provide practical help; she gave unconditional love and care. That love—which reflects the love of God—brought emotional healing and even physical restoration.

One of the most profound experiences that showed me the hand of God was during my time as a volunteer before becoming a staff member.

I was assigned to enroll new families into the program. While giving a mother her first allocated financial stipend for her needs, the amount seemed substantial since she had four children.

The mother was taken aback. She hesitated: “No, I can’t accept this money.” She was worried that our support might come with strings attached, fearing that we might eventually ask to take her children away to an orphanage or make some other crazy request.

I reassured her gently: “No, no, your children will stay with you. We are here to support their education.” She responded in disbelief: “It’s hard to believe that God could send all of this without expecting something in return!”

I smiled and insisted: “Trust me, there’s no catch—this is truly without any strings attached.”

Over time, the family began to thrive. The children were so young then, but as the years passed, they excelled in school. One of her daughters even made it into engineering school!

On the day her daughter’s high school exam results were announced, I asked the mother how she felt. She told me, “I feel like when I go to the bakery to buy bread, I am the tallest one there!”

She explained that she had always been teased for being short, but now, she felt as if her neck was stretched with pride. That image stayed with me—a mother standing tall because her children had a future.

On one of my visits to the family, I noticed they didn’t have a proper bathroom door, just a curtain. I gave them the funds to purchase a simple folding door.

When I returned later, I found the children arguing playfully. One of them said that their sister had been in the bathroom for an hour.

I joked: “Is she always in there that long?” They laughed and explained: “No, but ever since we installed the door, the kids go in and don’t want to come out. It’s the first time they’ve had privacy!”

It struck me how something as simple as a bathroom door could make such a profound difference. For them, it wasn’t just a door—it was dignity.

These experiences taught me that God’s love often shows up in the smallest details—a stipend, a schoolbook, a folding door. Through countless visits and conversations, I saw perceptions shift. Families who once doubted began to believe that grace could be real, that help could come without conditions.

And every time I witnessed that transformation, I felt the hand of God at work.

After a long day of home visitations under the scorching heat, dusty air, and traffic-filled streets, I won’t hide that sometimes one can feel overwhelmed. There are moments where I ask: What’s next?

Sometimes, it even becomes difficult to talk to God or ask for His strength.

One night after a long workday, I sat down with my six-year-old son, Philopateer, for dinner. He was devouring fried potato sticks with such enthusiasm that his fingers and face were drenched in ketchup.

Then, this conversation unfolded:

Philopateer: Dad…do you know? The farmer is the best worker in the world.

Me: Why?

Philopateer: Because he can grow many potatoes, and they’d never run out.

Me: Oh, I see. But, still, the farmer needs all other professions, like the engineer, the doctor, the carpenter, and so on.

I went on to explain the concept of how all professions complement one another and how we can’t live without any of them.

Philopateer: So, what’s the best profession, Dad?

Me: All professions are great. The most important thing is to work with honesty. You know, all the saints worked. Even Jesus worked. Do you know what job Jesus had?

I looked at him, expecting him to say carpentry. He is aware of this fact, which is in the books his mother reads to him. I have also seen him color a picture of Jesus with Joseph the Carpenter.

As I chewed my food, waiting for his answer, he looked at me and said: “He worked like you, visiting people in their homes.”

I stopped chewing. It felt as if time stood still.

God was sending me a message: You are working with Me as My disciple. I sent you out to imitate Me. You are doing My work in My vineyard for My children. You faced many challenges, and perhaps not everyone responded, but there was great fruit.

How could a child reach such a profound understanding when he knows nothing about the nature of my work, except for hearing the word “visiting” during my phone calls? How did he connect my work with Christ’s ministry and His love for humanity?

In that moment, I felt as though Jesus was embracing me, comforting my heart, and saying: “I am responsible for you. You are Mine.”

I resumed eating, took a deep breath, smiled at my son, and said: “You know, I thought He was a carpenter?”

This truly feels like a blessing from God. Naturally, when working in God’s field, challenges will arise. But I chose to work at Coptic Orphans because it is both a profession and a calling to serve.

I pray that He grants us pure minds, clear hearts, and open ears so we may hear His voice, see through His eyes, and fulfill His will.

Damian Williams, a 21 fellow, writing about the experience in Egypt.

Today’s guest post comes from Damian Williams, a fellow who served in Nazlet Ebeid during The 21 Trip. In this deeply moving reflection, he shares how the children, mothers, and families he met transformed his understanding of love, generosity, and faith.

I don’t even know where to begin, because no words can do this mission trip justice.

However, I can say with complete honesty that my life will never be the same after the 21 Mission Trip with Coptic Orphans. It was a truly life-changing experience, one that brought me closer to Christ. We all thought we’d be the ones doing the serving, but I’m sure everyone can agree that we were the ones who ended up being served.

The blessed kids we served in Nazlet Ebeid were so rich in love. Every morning they would run at us and greet us with love and so many hugs, they were so joyful. Every day they would come and give us handmade bracelets and get us little gifts and would teach us games and songs. Their generosity was so pure and it was truly a blessing to witness first hand. Safe to say that every moment with them felt like they were constantly filling our hearts. These kids were practising Christianity on a whole other level and I learnt so much from them. “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.” This is truly what I cherish most from this trip, the unconditional love I received from the kids. I pray I can one day be like them.

One of the most special and meaningful parts of the trip was the home visitations. Sitting in the homes of widows and orphans, yet seeing their love for Christ, and witnessing their faith… It shook me. Spending one on one time with the kids, talking to them, playing with them and learning more about them was such a blessing and it really strengthened our relationship with them. They would always be more comfortable with us and show us extra love the day after their visitation. All the mothers had one thing in common, their immense love. They didn’t treat us like strangers or guests. Instead, they welcomed us like family, like genuine family members. And we felt truly loved. They didn’t just smile politely or offer surface-level hospitality. Their love was powerful and authentic, they welcomed us with genuine warmth. Walking into each home, the atmosphere was so natural and heartfelt that any sense of being visitors or strangers simply disappeared. Again, we went to serve them in their homes, yet they served us instead. “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”

We were also so blessed to visit monasteries, meet priests, monks and bishops and to hear the stories of the Coptic martyrs. We were able to visit the church of the 21 martyrs of Libya and to hear from their wives. Hearing these stories allowed me to feel connected with my Coptic roots which is an experience that I am so so grateful for, and something that Coptic Orphans does so well. From early on, it was clear that prioritising this connection was one of their main goals for us and I am so blessed to say I now feel a strong connection to my Coptic identity.

However, in saying all this, I can’t forget that one of the greatest blessings of this trip were my fellows. Sammy, Selvia, Sarah, Marlien, Sarah, Marco who we met in Nazlet Ebeid, our coordinator Mariam and of course Marina who we were blessed to have on our site. I learned so much from every one of them. Spending time together, praying together, reflecting together, it really changed me in a way I didn’t expect. Witnessing their love for God and their encouragement pushed me to build a deeper relationship with Christ. I was truly surrounded by people who were so much better than me both spiritually and in how they served, and that allowed me to grow. Watching them serve the kids so selflessly, seeing their deep love for them and hearing them pray for them, it was so inspiring. I know without a doubt that I wouldn’t have been impacted the way I was if it weren’t for them. God worked through them in powerful ways, and I’m so grateful I got to witness it up close.

I came home changed, with a heart full of gratitude, a stronger connection to God, and a deep pride in who I am as a Copt. I learnt that this experience wasn’t meant to be a spiritual high, but a reset – to build daily habits that keep us close to Christ in the ordinary.

You always hear the term ‘life-changing’ but you never truly know what it means until you experience it.

Thank you so much to Coptic Orphans it was truly a blessing.

A drawing by a child from our ‘Not Alone Program’

In this edition of ‘Our Staff, Their Stories’, an anonymous team member shares a firsthand account of witnessing God’s providence—and a moment that answered a personal prayer.

In May 2024, I visited a family in the village of Monufia. The mother welcomed us into her modest home, where she lives with her four children: Passant, a high school freshman; Magdy, in middle school; and the youngest—twin girls Nevine and Sherine, in the second grade.

As we sat together, we gently asked about the father’s passing. Her voice trembled as she shared that he had taken his own life by ingesting poisonous wheat pills—a method tragically common in the area, but one we had never encountered among the families in our program.

She told us that after taking the pills, he stood before his family and said, “I can’t go on. These children are your responsibility now.”

The trauma of that moment left a deep emotional scar on the entire family. The children, especially, were visibly affected. We did our best to remain composed, knowing our presence should bring comfort, not add to their pain.

After his death, the mother took a job at a local hospital, earning just 700–800 EGP per month—barely enough to cover basic needs, let alone the educational support her children required.

During our visit, we administered educational assessments. The twins, Nevine and Sherine, immediately stood out for their beautiful artwork and creativity at such a young age. They even tried to help their older brother with his exam.

As I left their home, I found myself asking God, “Why?” Why should this family endure such heartbreak? I didn’t understand, but I trusted that He would respond.

And He did.

Within weeks of joining our program, a generous donor from the United States heard their story and chose to sponsor the twins—giving $1,000 for each girl. This gift, totaling 49,000 EGP, was life-changing for a family that had long survived on just a few hundred pounds each month. The twins used the gift to purchase new beds, study desks, and even open savings accounts. A few months later, the donor sent another contribution. It was a clear sign of God’s providence.

But there’s more.

Before they were officially added to our program, there was a delay in their registration. During that time, I had a vivid dream: Nevine and Sherine stood before me, smiling. I will never forget that day. It was a Saturday and I woke up in a panic at 7 a.m. I immediately messaged the team and asked why the family hadn’t been added yet.

It turned out they had slipped through the cracks. We corrected it right away.

That moment reminded me of Christ’s words: “What I am doing you do not understand now, but you will know after this” (John 13:7). God had not forgotten this family. Through a dream, a sponsor, and a community of care, He was already at work.

Even in the darkest moments, God is near, and He is faithful.

George with the children in El Fashn.

Today’s guest post comes from George Wasef, a fellow who served in El Fashn during The 21 Trip. In this heartfelt reflection, George shares how the children he met taught him the true meaning of love, humility, and faith — reminding him that Christ’s love transcends language and circumstance. Through their pure joy and simple faith, he discovered that the greatest lessons often come from the smallest hearts.

“Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.”
(Matthew 18:3)

When I first applied to serve with Coptic Orphans, I included this verse in my application, not fully grasping the depth it carried. I had heard this verse countless times before, but it wasn’t until I arrived in El Fashn, Egypt, that it truly came alive for me.

During our trip, our group decided to create an icon for the children we visited during home visits. The icon depicted Christ embracing children—a powerful image of His unwavering, personal love for each of us. We are all children of Christ, united as one body in Him, and this image would become a quiet reminder to the children that they are deeply loved, even in their most isolated moments.

I’ve seen this verse come to fruition in the children of Egypt—children who have endured more tribulations than anyone should yet still illuminate with joy and gratitude to God. Throughout the trip I was blessed to truly experience Christ, but what was implanted in my mind was the love these kids handover, despite their harsh circumstances. They showed me what it means to truly experience Christ, not through grand gestures, but through quiet moments of love and presence.

One example is Abanoub, a boy who initially portrays himself as the class bully, tough and closed off, but as I got to know him and heard his story, I saw a child full of love and life. During a home visit, I handed him the icon and shared with him that no matter how alone he might feel, God is always with him, embracing him. Around that same time, I was feeling homesick, missing my friends and family back home. Yet as I reflected on what I had told Abanoub, I felt a deep, quiet peace—a reminder that God’s love is always near, even when we feel far from home. I was sitting in the back of the bus, genuinely feeling God’s embrace, just as depicted in the icon. As the last day of class approached, Abanoub would ask me to sit with him, calling me his brother: “George, don’t forget me, my brother for life.”

Jan, another child who initially came off as a bully, became a dear friend in those final days. I grew up unable to read, write, or speak Arabic, and despite the language barrier, Jan showed me that love is not bound by language. We would scroll through my camera roll, play games, and laugh until we couldn’t breathe. I sometimes felt disheartened that I couldn’t speak to him fully, but one of the girls in my group reminded me, “The language of love has no barrier.” This stayed with me because Jesus Himself exemplified this truth through the way He loved those around Him, reminding us that love is expressed through action, kindness, and presence beyond words. He was the prime example of how to express love, and how love draws people in unison. As St. Paul Writes, “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (I Corinthians 13:4-5, 7). We are one body in Christ, and without this kind of love, the body of Christ disassembles apart piece by piece. These children taught me that even with nothing material to give, they could give love freely and fully. They showed me that the greatest joy is found in humility and loving others as God loves us.

Despite Abanoub and Jan’s sometimes tough, bully-like personas, they were softened by love—the love of God. The moment you show genuine love to these kids, they open up and reveal their true innocence. I believe this holds true in every interaction we have, even with strangers we encounter. A simple smile can go further than we realize, and I saw this firsthand, especially since I couldn’t speak the language. It connects us humans together, and the truest form is the love of God.

Without a doubt, these kids have impacted me far more than I could’ve ever prayed to impact them. They’ve taught me what it truly means to love and give—even when they have nothing to give. They’ve shown me that the greatest joy in life is found in humility and in loving one another, just as God loves us. Their laughter, radiant smiles, and warm hugs reflect the heart of Christ. Through these children—and the incredible people around me—I’ve witnessed what it means to radiate Christ. Whether it was Youssef hugging and giving me gifts every time I saw him or Jan and Abanoub transforming from the class bullies into boys who now call me brother, I’ve witnessed love in its purest form.

I’m beyond blessed to have been part of this journey. I’m forever grateful for the opportunity to be among these kids and this group that strives to reflect the love and humility of Christ. Although I am the one teaching the lessons, I always find myself learning from the kids more. Their humility and their compassion is something I really admire in the kids. This is because of their purity and their Christ like nature which is something that I find happiness in.

Growing up, I was often told to set aside my childlike nature, as it could hinder me from maturing. However, this trip has solidified that abandoning that childlike spirit leads to a life distant from God—a life lacking true joy, peace, and happiness. Embracing a childlike faith teaches us to rely on God fully, bringing every thought, trial, and moment to Him as we would to a best friend. In doing so, we discover a simpler, richer life anchored in peace and happiness as we grow deeper in our relationship with God, our Father.

I have spent 3 weeks with kids who truly love me, and I would give anything to feel the love of Christ in that way again. This trip has taught me to approach every situation in life with patience and every interaction with intentionality. It has reminded me to embrace a childlike mindset—meeting each person with love, humility, and openness, regardless of the circumstances. Love has no barriers, just as God is not limited by language.

Let us take a moment to learn from these children—whose unwavering faith and joyful spirit amidst hardship teach us what it means to truly live a Christ-like life and grow closer to our Heavenly Father. May we also remember them in our prayers. Through the intercessions and blessings of the 21 Martyrs of Libya, may we be strengthened. Glory be to God forever. Amen.

A selfie of Sara with the children in Minya.

Today’s guest post comes from Sara Awadallah, a fellow who attended The 21 Trip in June 2025. In this reflection, she shares how living a life of service transformed her understanding of faith, love, and Coptic identity—showing her that true devotion is not just learned, but lived each day.

“This past summer, in June 2025, I traveled to Egypt—Om El Donia—after living abroad for a long time. I went with Coptic Orphans to serve in a small village in the Minya Governorate. Little did I know, this trip would open my heart to a deeper understanding of faith, service, and God’s love. I stayed at the 21 Martyrs Church and had the privilege of serving the children at a nearby church. In the heart of the Minya Governorate, I met some of the families of the 21 Martyrs—a group of Coptic Orthodox Christian men who were martyred for their faith. It was truly humbling to be in such a spiritually rich place.

Before the trip, I had always struggled to wear my cross proudly or fully embrace my Coptic identity. I knew the theory—I read the Bible and went to church—but I lacked the practical experience of living my faith through service to others. This trip changed that. It wasn’t just about reading or praying; it was about living the faith every single day.

When I first arrived, I had no expectations. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a trip where I would be working from 9 AM until 10 PM every day, completely dedicated to serving others. But what I encountered was far beyond what I could have imagined. I never expected to fall in love with a place. I never expected to experience pure, unconditional love from people I had only known for three weeks. But that’s exactly what happened.

These children, with their boundless energy and deep faith, taught me how love can soften even the hardest soul. Before the trip, my feelings were focused solely on myself and what made me happy. I never realized that in order to find peace, I needed to receive the love of the children from Minya—children who had so little but gave so much.

As a Copt who grew up outside Egypt, I had never had the opportunity to serve in this way before. Coptic Orphans showed me that service is an essential part of being a Coptic Orthodox Christian. It is, in fact, the greatest form of love—because every minute of every day is spent helping others. The children I served became my teachers. They loved me with all their hearts, and I miss them deeply. Each of them had a unique personality that warmed my heart. I keep them in my prayers daily and will never forget their beautiful faces. They taught me what it means to have faith—faith as strong as that of the 21 Martyrs, after whom my trip was named.

One day, after a long class, I was exhausted and taking a break with my fellow volunteers. One of the children, who had been staying with us in the class, overheard me complaining, saying, “I’m so tired, I can’t do this.” His response shocked me, especially because of his young age:

“How can you be tired when you are serving God? You are for God, so tiredness doesn’t exist. Take the blessing of the service and don’t complain.” From that day forward, I never again said I was tired. I realized that when serving God—whether on a mission or back home—I must give thanks and find joy in the work I am doing. The service itself is a blessing.

During my time at the 21 Martyrs Church, some of the families of the 21 martyrs shared their stories with me and my fellows. I was deeply moved and overwhelmed with emotion. These men’s only “crime” was being Christian. Their story reminded me of what it truly means to live with unwavering faith, even in the face of extreme hardship. Despite the sorrow, I felt peace in my heart. I understood the true meaning and purpose of being Coptic: to shine brightly with faith in God. I know that all the martyrs’ suffering was honored both in heaven and on earth. As it is in heaven, so it is on earth. My Church is a living, breathing entity both on earth and in heaven.

I learned so much from these children. In a world full of distractions, the Copts of Minya live with enormous faith and great love for anyone ready to meet Christ. These children, with their infectious energy and simple acts of kindness, taught me the true meaning of compassion, love, and service. Whether it was playing soccer, drawing, making bracelets, or laughing while doing glitter tattoos, I rediscovered how to be patient, how to love, and how to play again like a child. Even something as simple as stickers made them smile with contentment. They showed me that a simple life, focused on love and connection, nourishes the heart.

In a world constantly moving, taking time to be with God is crucial. It brings peace, joy, and love. If you are filled with God’s love, you can radiate that love to others. That’s what the children of Coptic Orphans taught me during my time in Minya.

I am forever grateful for this experience. It has shaped me in ways I cannot fully express. I hope to serve again with this amazing organization, helping many more and continuing to grow closer to God.”

Mandi Hart on the front right of the picture with the martyrs’ wives and Fr. Epiphanious at The Martyrs’ church in Samalout.

In this moving reflection, our guest writer Mandi Hart, the producer of The 21 cartoon film, shares her journey from student filmmaker to visiting the families of the 21 martyrs in Egypt. Her story invites us into a powerful encounter with faith, sacrifice, and the enduring witness of the Coptic Church.

I spent five months in Cairo while in university and traveled to Egypt several years after to film a short documentary. The documentary brought me in contact with Coptic brothers and sisters around Cairo and I began to learn more about the two-Millennium long presence of Copts in Egypt.

Fast forward to 2025, having finished production of The 21, our short film about the 20 Coptic and 1 Ghanaian man martyred by ISIS in Libya in 2015, and our trip to share the film with the martyrs’ families and community. Coptic Orphans arranged for us to share the film in the church built in the men’s honor. The experience was priceless. Hearing the families’ stories of perseverance under persecution and their pride in the courage and faithfulness of their martyred husbands, fathers, brothers and sons was both convicting and inspiring. I was struck by how these fellow Christians live with one foot on earth and one foot in heaven. How I long to learn to do the same!

Coptic Orphans did a masterful job planning and hosting our trip, striking a balance between activity and rest, learning and reflection. The opportunities to stand bodily in ancient Christian sites like the cave where the Holy Family spent a few months during their Egyptian exile and to worship with Coptic brothers and sisters in the Cave Church and in Minya were truly singular experiences. We enjoyed tastes of heaven on earth during the trip as Christians from different “languages, nations, tribes and tongues” (Revelation 7:9) joined to commemorate the 21 and celebrate the faithful God for whom they gave up their lives.