The Space of Courage: The Children Who Changed Me

Every time I walk into Al Jalila Children's Hospital, I leave with a full heart.

And a heavy one.

You can never truly prepare yourself for seeing children after chemotherapy. Seeing little faces that should be running around playgrounds instead sitting patiently through treatment. Watching parents carry a strength they never imagined they would need.

It is heartbreaking.

But what surprises me every single time is not the illness.

It is the courage.

The smiles.

The laughter.

The incredible resilience these children carry with them every day.

That is why I created The Space of Courage.

I wanted to create moments where the hospital feels a little less like a hospital. Where children can sing at the top of their lungs, dance without inhibition, chase giant bubbles, paint colourful T-shirts, make slime, win prizes and, most importantly, simply enjoy being children.

During our latest visit, I watched children forget everything else as they laughed through the bubble show. I saw tiny hands covered in paint as they proudly showed me the T-shirts they had designed. I saw new friendships form over games and shared laughter.

Those moments stay with me.

But it is often the quieter moments that leave the deepest impression.

Meeting children who have every reason to feel defeated, yet choose joy instead.

They inspire me far more than they will ever know.

The Space of Courage isn't about organising activities.

It is about creating moments that help children and their families breathe a little easier.

Moments where parents can watch their child smile without thinking about the next appointment.

Moments where siblings laugh together.

Moments that remind every child that they are seen, celebrated and deeply loved.

Every visit changes me.

Every child leaves a mark on my heart.

I may not be able to take away their illness, but I hope I can give them something that stays with them long after the day is over—a memory filled with laughter, friendship and happiness.

Because sometimes courage isn't loud.

Sometimes courage is a child who has just finished chemotherapy, picking up a paintbrush, chasing a bubble or dancing to their favourite song.

And those are the moments I will never forget.