The sun was setting as we flew over the serene landscape of villages and small towns, where lights began to flicker one by one. The scene below was peaceful, with people going about their lives, seemingly untroubled by the sky above. This tranquility was in stark contrast to the tense environment from which our group of evacuees had come. As we hovered over the suburbs of Amman, Safa'a Salha, a mother from Gaza, raised her mobile phone to show me a message she had written. "Oh my God," the message read, "Jordan is so beautiful." For Safa'a, this journey was a stark departure from her recent experiences in Gaza. Despite the noise of the helicopter making conversation difficult, her gratitude was palpable. Safa'a handed me her phone again, displaying another message: "We used to see this [helicopter] every day and it was coming to bomb and kill. But today the feeling is totally different." Her words illustrated the profound impact of living under constant threat and the bittersweet relief of their current journey. Next to Safa'a sat her 16-year-old son, Youssef, who bore a scar from a recent surgery. Despite his past struggles, he shared his excitement about the helicopter ride and his love for football. Youssef's joy was infectious; he expressed his happiness with a fist bump, eager to talk about the ordinary things most teens enjoy. Nearby, nine-year-old Sama Awad sat quietly, holding her mother Isra's hand. Sama, suffering from a brain tumor, was on her way to Amman for surgery. Once we landed and the helicopter engines quieted, Isra expressed her hopes for the best possible treatment for her daughter in Jordan. I asked Isra to describe Gaza, a place I had only seen in images. Her response was direct: "It is horrible. It is impossible to describe. Horrible on so many levels. But people are just trying to get on with living." Her words painted a picture of resilience amidst adversity. Our group consisted of four sick children and twelve parents and guardians. They had made their way from Gaza to the Jordanian border by ambulance, traveling non-stop through Israel. The evacuation of children from Gaza was part of a plan first discussed in February during a meeting between US President Donald Trump and Jordan's King Abdullah. The initiative aimed to bring 2,000 sick children to Jordan for treatment, yet only 33 have made the journey so far, each accompanied by a parent or guardian. Jordanian officials have cited delays and restrictions imposed by Israel as significant obstacles, compounded by the ongoing conflict. Meanwhile, Israel's government agency Cogat (Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories) claimed there has been a notable increase in Gazans being evacuated for medical care abroad. Cogat stated that thousands had been sent to countries like Jordan, the United Arab Emirates, and the US, despite the challenges posed by ongoing hostilities in Gaza. In March, Israel broke a ceasefire with a new wave of attacks aimed at Hamas, intensifying the already dire situation in Gaza. The enclave remains a densely populated area, with its inhabitants trapped in a cycle of hunger and mortality. For those who manage to leave for medical treatment, it is a rare escape from this harsh reality. The United Nations has warned of the possibility of famine affecting Gaza's 2.1 million residents. Tom Fletcher, the UN's head of humanitarian affairs, has urged the UN Security Council to take action to "prevent genocide" in Gaza. His plea underscores the severity of the situation, exacerbated by an Israeli blockade that restricts essential aid from reaching the population. Isra Abu Jame's description of Gaza as "horrible beyond words" resonates with the broader humanitarian crisis. The children who arrived in Jordan on Wednesday will join other sick and injured Gazan children in hospitals across Amman. Among them is Habiba Al-Askari, a young girl we have followed since January. Habiba and her mother, Rana, traveled to Jordan in hopes of saving Habiba's gangrene-infected limbs. Unfortunately, the infection was too advanced, resulting in a triple amputation. When I visited Habiba and Rana again, I witnessed a remarkable transformation. Habiba, now accustomed to her condition, used her remaining foot to navigate games on her mother's phone, and she blew kisses with the stump of her arm. Her resilience was evident, and Rana expressed pride in her daughter's