The Iraq story has always had a very personal dimension for this columnist.

Having covered the story since the first Gulf War, I’ve acquired many Iraqi friends and acquaintances. Some are exiles, who gave up comfortable lives in the United States to return home to rebuild their country. Some suffered under Saddam. Some have been murdered since his overthrow.

Whenever I think about the tall odds against creating a stable Iraq, their faces come to mind.

It’s easy to get angry at gross administration mistakes that led to the current Iraq mess and played into the hands of Iraqi insurgents. But if the Bush administration fails to stabilize Iraq before drawing down U.S. troops, ordinary Iraqis will pay dearly.

Of course, a total U.S. debacle in Iraq would also destabilize the entire Middle East and give al Qaeda a bonanza. But when I think of why such a debacle must be prevented, my mind keeps turning to the Iraqis I’ve known.

I think of Sayid Abdul Majid al-Khoei, the son of a revered Shiite cleric. Khoei made a fateful choice to return to southern Iraq with American assistance at the beginning of the war. He wanted to act as a bridge between the Americans and the Shiite religious establishment. He risked his life in the hope that he could help U.S. officials overcome Shiite distrust of their intentions.

Shortly after he arrived in Najaf, he was hacked to death by followers of a radical Shiite cleric who opposed the U.S. intervention. Did Khoei die in vain, or do his hopes for an Iraq that openly tolerates all branches of Islam as well as other religions still stand a chance?

I think of Fareed Yasseen, son of a senior Iraqi diplomat who defected after Saddam came to power. Yasseen grew up in Europe, graduated from MIT, and spent years working on Iraqi human-rights issues. He left a comfortable life in Cambridge, Mass., to return to Baghdad and work with the Sunni moderate politician, Adnan Pachachi.

Now in the foreign ministry, Yasseen has had relatives murdered and mutilated in recent months, a friend kidnapped, and has escaped from car bombs. But he stays on.

I think of Siham Hamdan, a young Shiite professor of English literature from the Baghdad slum now known as Sadr City, who wears full religious headdress and long robe. Backed by her brothers, who were imprisoned under Saddam, she was brave enough to become a member of a district council appointed by the Americans to represent her neighborhood.

I also think of Riyadh Nassir al-Adhadh, a physician from one of the most anti-American Sunni neighborhoods in Baghdad, who was chosen to sit in the Baghdad City Council set up by U.S. officials. Although he opposed the invasion, he decided he wanted to work from the inside to change his country – and to end the U.S. occupation. His reputation for helping the poor is such that Sunni insurgents haven’t attacked him – last I heard.

I think of Hanna Edwar, who is running a nongovernmental agency called Al-Amal to help Iraqi women. She organized a national women’s conference in June (with U.S. financial aid) in the hopes that Iraqis could learn the meaning of “civil society,” the concept that grass-roots efforts outside state control are essential counterweights to centralized power.

And I think of my translator, S. (I use his initial because the current situation for Christians in Iraq is so dire he wouldn’t want his name used.) He wrote recently that “the situation in Baghdad is getting worse by the day for us Christians. We are so vulnerable with all these churches (sic) bombings.

“In Mosul, Islamic clerics on Friday preach advice not to buy houses from Christians because they will leave and we will have it for free.” He also wrote of threats during Ramadan “that any women without veil will be sprayed with acid regardless of religion.” S. continues to translate for foreigners because he wants to work.

It’s hard to be optimistic about Iraq’s future right now. The Iraqis I know are mostly among the minority who are willing to risk their lives to try to build a decent Iraq.

I know their task is uphill, and that U.S. mistakes have undercut their efforts. Yet, given their courage, I have to hope that those mistakes can be repaired, at least enough to give these Iraqis a decent hope of normal lives.