What are the first thoughts that come to mind when you think of Iraq? Whatever they may be, they are probably right… and yet just as wrong as I recently discovered after a recent trip to this compelling and beautiful country.

I was sitting at lunch with a friend when he asked the question: "So, do you want to go to Iraq with me in a week?" My friend, Jonathan is a world-traveling filmmaker and coming from him, this question was not out of place. However, my answer might have been, at least according to my teachers after I told them that I would be skipping almost two weeks of school during my senior year of college. It was hard to explain, but something was drawing me to this land -- a place so shrouded in misconceptions, strife and complexity that no amount of homework or mid-terms could deter me from the chance to photograph its people and culture.

"Right away, my misconceptions were confronted and I was forced to forget all the things that I had read or been shown on the news. I was treated to meals and taken in like a family member."

After countless planes, buses and taxis, I arrived in Baghdad. What I found there was beauty, hospitality and friends. Right away, my misconceptions were confronted and I was forced to forget all the things that I had read or been shown on the news. I was treated to meals and taken in like a family member. I shared, laughed and experienced life with people from all walks of life; Muslims, Christians, Secularists, religious leaders, and paupers (to name a few). Everywhere I went, I was greeted with hospitality by Iraqis who conveyed a deep-rooted sense of national pride. However, each smile and glimpse of joy was accompanied with an equal and often even greater hint of pain and weariness. Weariness from war, conflict and from death. The more time I spent with these people, the more I fell in love with their country, and the more I became attuned to the pain that has pervaded its center. I am by no means an expert on the conflicts of the Middle East or on the war in Iraq, but through my experiences there I feel I gained a greater understanding of this region. Sadly, I encountered more and more stories of hopelessness, specifically in regards to the children.

It was Friday afternoon, the day of the week that everyone gathers at the mosque to pray. Walking down the street, I could see the crowds from blocks away. The closer I got, the more congested it became. Row after row of people lined the road, all in perfectly formed lines and in sync with the call to prayer. The view in front of me cleared as the masses kneeled to the ground; like a whisper of thunder, they moved to bow their foreheads to their mats. I snaked carefully in and out of the crush of people and was able to maneuver myself into the center of the mosque. I snapped a few photos and observed the weekly ceremony with a quiet sense of respect and awe. As the call to prayer drew to an end, little girls and boys dressed in rags suddenly appeared with their mothers and silently began to set up their stations throughout the crowd. Unfolding their towels and wooden mats, they prepared to beg for the only money that they would receive for the week. While the hoards of people filed past, the children sat beneath the moving legs that surrounded them in hopes that a few Dinar would land in their outstretched hands. Little by little, they collected their money, the "alms" from the attendees, until the temple grounds cleared and the dust finally settled.

"There are those who want to help, but there are also those people who want to militarize these children. If we do not do something now, then there will be even more terrorists in ten years."

This same scene is becoming common all over Iraq as the number of orphaned children increases. Boys and girls come home to find their relatives and friends gone forever. A father leaves for work and never returns. Children are being killed in the streets of the neighborhoods where they grew up and others are forced to survive on their own. A recent census determined that there are approximately five million orphans now in Iraq since the US-led occupation began in 2003. Muhammad, my friend from Baghdad, shared with me his personal experiences working with the orphans there. He made the point that in the past, the war was far from home and did not affect the community. Now, the war is in the streets, near the children. He went on to say that "the orphans are not only homeless and fatherless, but they are also susceptible to evil. There are those who want to help, but there are also those people who want to militarize these children. If we do not do something now, then there will be even more terrorists in ten years."

The orphan crisis in Iraq seems hopeless, and on many levels it is. But there is a glimmer of hope that I see in Muhammad’s eyes as he speaks of what is going to heal Iraq. The hope that he and others have is: love. If these orphans can be taught love, shown love, and in turn - love others, then the walls of prejudice and violence will be eliminated and the nation of Iraq will see healing.

There are a few individuals and organizations showing this love and working to bring peace and healing in Iraq. One non-profit organization in particular, The Preemptive Love Coalition, is bringing healing to Iraq in a very literal way by raising money and providing the opportunity for Iraqi children to receive life-saving heart surgeries. I was able to spend some time visiting a couple of the children who had received surgery and whose lives were saved through The Preemptive Love Coalition. As I spent time with these children and their families, I was able to see how their lives were changed and that they had been given a newfound hope and a joy for life. With an office in Iraq, a very creative team and an enormous heart, The Preemptive Love Coalition is changing children’s lives, one child at a time.

‘Iraq’ is at the forefront of our minds and in the media, but its children, its individuals and their stories are not."

The children are the future of Iraq and the situation is bleak. The glimmer of hope that I saw in my friend’s eye was also accompanied by a tear; one of many shed for the countless lives lost and orphans created in his country. I would encourage others to learn more about this dire situation and also to give. "Iraq" is at the forefront of our minds and in the media, but its children, its individuals and their stories are not. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to meet these people firsthand and hear about their lives. I was able to point my lens and hopefully capture the beauty of the people and the culture, as well as tell their story.

From the top of a hill that looked down on the city, I watched the sun sink into the endless sea of buildings and satellite dishes. That same sun was rising back in Los Angeles where homework, papers and normalcy awaited. Sitting silently with my eyes on the horizon, everything seemed at peace for a few moments as the golden hues turned to gray and another day in Iraq came to an end.