Children Stories - Samra

There was something a little different about Samra when I went to Lebanon in 2009.  She was shy but also a loner.  Once at the campgrounds I was arranging things in the room I was to share with 4 other ladies, when someone ran to our door.  Samra was locked in the bathroom and in a state of panic!  When I arrived at the bathroom door, she was crying.  The bathroom door actually required a key to open and no one had it.  We had just started to unpack.  I quickly realized that Samra only spoke Arabic.  I asked for an Arabic counselor that could interpret from English to Arabic.  Through her, I began to tell Samra that she was not alone, that we were right there, that someone went to get the key, and that we would stay with her until she got out.  Her anxiety reminded me of someone trapped in an elevator or experiencing fear as in a phobia.  At one point, I suggested we sing.  Samra’s cry got louder.   No one needed to interpret that she didn’t like that idea.  So I just kept talking in reassuring tones.  Finally, somebody arrived with a key.  But it didn’t open the door.  Needless to say, Samra could hear the fumbling with the lock and see that the door did not open.  Her crying resumed.  Then I noticed an opening under the door.  It was enough to slide two of my fingers under it.  So I did and called her attention to it.  She could see that I was there.  Samra began to calm down.  Gradually she calmed down to the point that she was able to open the door herself before the key ever arrived!  Shortly after, one of the counselors came running to get me again.  Samra had a nose bleed and it wasn’t stopping.  Wondering why I was being summoned instead of our camp nurse (We were blessed to have a camp nurse from the Tennessee team.), I headed to her room.  When I arrived, her head was leaned over the sink.  She was dripping blood rather profusely and a young child was the person who was helping.   Having been trained in universal precautions I asked that the child not assist and explained the need for a barrier such as paper towels between skin and blood.  I had Samra lay down on the bed and held a small cold towel over her nose bridge.  I thought to myself how Samra might start thinking that every time she had trouble, my face would show up!  The nose bleed slowed down about 60% quickly and I had sent for the camp nurse.  When she arrived, she got the nose bleed to stop and left.  Samra appeared in a state of shock.  I remained with her and stroked her hair.  I told her how beautiful she was.  I’d decided to call my campers, princesses, when suddenly I thought to call Samra, “my little princess”.  The nurse had managed the physical aspects.  God had wanted me to help her handle the emotional ones.  From an orphanage, probably her first camp, these two episodes close together within an hour of her arrival, could have led to a very unhappy camp experience.  Instead after those tender moments, Samra was able to bounce back and not be the worse for wear.  Throughout the camp when I saw Samra, I would wait until we made eye contact.  She in turn would smile sheepishly and become joyful as I called her, “My little princess”.  Samra was still at the orphanage in 2010.  However, there was a striking change from the previous year.  She was playful, talented at arts & craft, made friends, and participated! 
Dr. Sarai Padilla