They are Palestinians who escaped the horrific war in Gaza.

Five women — all in their late 20s and early 30s — managed to get out of Gaza with little more than the clothes on their backs. The homes in which they grew up, the schools they attended, the beach cafes where they gathered with friends are now rubble; countless friends and family members are gone forever. All they have are memories — and relics.

Each of the five managed to take some object with them from Gaza, signs of the life they left behind. They shared their “relics” with writer Danya Issawi in Autumn 2025.

One woman, who was evacuated with her infant daughter, carried a flash drive of her wedding photos and her daughter’s hospital bracelet. Her husband remains behind, believing that if enough people stayed, the occupation would fail. Now she speaks to him occasionally online — their relationship is understandably strained. Her daughter’s hospital bracelet is the only thing from her childhood that she still has — all of her daughter’s clothes and toys were destroyed in the Gaza bombings. “I just wanted to have something to give my daughter when she’s older,” she says

The second woman took with her a gold ring given to her by her mother when she graduated from university. She is now in Cairo while her mother remains in Gaza. The ring is a sign of her memories of her mother and the hope that one day they will be together again.

For another young woman, her most precious possession is a photo of her sister and her two nieces. The girls, four years old and 16 months, and their mother were killed when their home was destroyed in a missile attack. The photo is all she has of them; it’s a reminder of the beauty she once had in her life. The photo, she hopes, will serve as witness to the childhoods brutally cut short.

Among the items the fourth woman kept are bits of rock from what was once her home in Gaza. Now a refugee in Egypt, the pieces of concrete remind her of how quickly life can change. She also managed to take with her the patchwork quilt made by her ever-optimistic mother who always believed that better days are coming.

And the fifth woman carried with her keffiyeh, the scarf worn for protection from sunburn, dirt and sand. With her family and home gone, the keffiyeh is a symbol of pride and identity.

Like so many in Gaza, these women have seen their lives come crashing down. The “relics” they managed to carry away with them are reminders of what was — but also signs of what might be again, signs of hope of what might be restored. In today’s unsettling Gospel, Jesus warns us of the impermanence of the things we build our lives on. Despite the wars we wage, the earthquakes that shake our sureties, the disasters that topple our happy little worlds, we can always rebuild our lives on the things of God: love that never fails, compassion that never fades, forgiveness that never falters. Today’s Gospel should not terrify us or deflate our sense of hope but make us aware that the things of the world will one day be gone and the things of God are the means to lasting peace and joy as we journey from this world to the eternity of the next.