There are people who come through the doors of our center often enough that, somewhere along the way, you stop thinking of them as visitors.
Jaudad is one of those people.
He has been part of our lives for some time now, and these days we simply call him what he has become: family. He is also living with a serious illness, which means that when he comes to see us, there is always a question sitting quietly beneath the conversation: How are you feeling? How are the girls? How are you managing?
But Jaudad has a habit of turning that picture around.
Even while dealing with his own illness (cancer), he still shows up carrying things for other people. He comes to help. He looks for what he can bring and what he can do. So when we sat down together recently and asked him how he feels when he is here, his answer explained something about the relationship that has grown between us: “Here, I feel like I’m in my own home. We are really a family. I feel it with all my heart.”
There was nothing formal about the conversation. We talked about his health and asked about his daughters. “Ten out of ten,” he said, and quickly added, “Thank God.” We told him we loved him; he answered, “I love you too.” These are the kinds of exchanges that happen when someone has been around long enough that nobody needs to make a ceremony out of affection. You ask about the children. You check how someone is feeling. You talk, help one another, and carry on. Somewhere in all those ordinary visits, Jaudad stopped being someone who came to our center and became someone whose absence would be noticed.
His illness, however, has not disappeared.
We would love for that part of the story to be different, but it is not, and Jaudad did not pretend otherwise. We asked whether he wanted us to continue praying for him. “Of course. Of course,” he answered. Then he added, “I love every person—every honest person with a good heart. I hope they will pray for me.”
We asked him plainly whether he believes God can heal him. There was no hesitation. “Yes, of course. Just believe. I have one hundred percent faith.” We do not know what the coming months will hold, and neither does he. What we do know is how he is choosing to live in the middle of them. He keeps coming. He keeps helping. He still notices what somebody else might need. And when we ask about his family, gratitude comes quickly: “Thank God. Thank God.”
Scripture says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity” (Proverbs 17:17). Jaudad has made us think about that verse from both directions. We want to stand beside him now—to pray for him, encourage him, and make sure he knows he is not walking through this season alone. Yet the man we want to care for keeps finding ways to care for others too. That is simply how the relationship has grown between us. He belongs here, and somehow he has made us part of his life too.
Before we finished talking, we asked Jaudad whether he was comfortable with us sharing his words and asking you to pray for him. “Of course, of course,” he said. He wants you to know what he is walking through, and he wants you to pray.
So please, remember Jaudad when you pray. Pray for his health and healing, for strength in the days ahead, and for his daughters and family as they walk through this season with him. When you pray for Jaudad, you are joining the prayers being offered here in Nazareth by the people he says have become his family.
And when Jaudad comes through our doors again, there is a good chance he will be carrying something for somebody else.