Her name means “happy.”

I sat on her bed writing in my journal because Priscila and Mary were already asleep, and there was nowhere else to sit in the house. Saeda was looking through pictures on Facebook next to her sister Marina, who had fallen asleep long before her. Saeda told me this year that she remembers when I first taught her in ESL three years ago. She remembers my big poster that said, “Good morning,” and “My name is…” I love it that I am one of her first memories of speaking English. She learned English really quickly because she is so outgoing and loves to talk.

I came back to visit NUA in May of 2011, just a couple weeks after the microbus accident that injured several of the students and ended up killing one of them. It was in that accident that Saeda lost half of three of her fingers after they were crushed. We were afraid that she would not come back to school after the accident, but she did. And I remember helping her soak and wrap her hand in the way that the doctor had instructed her. I remember the stitches, and how she didn’t like to look at it. She was always very strong though. I admired her. Most Egyptian girls are “foffy” (wimpy), but not this one. This one impressed me. This one called me to a new level of optimism and strength and trust. I was worried about her dreams of becoming a doctor. And I remember fuming about the girls who told her to hide her hand because someone might not want to marry her. Any deformity or imperfection is a big deal, especially for an Upper Egyptian girl.

So as I was sitting on her bed we began to talk. And eventually the conversation led her to ask me why God allowed that to happen to her. Why to her? We talked about this broken world full of pain and imperfection, and then about the beauty that God draws out of every ugly thing. I told her of her influence and how inspiring she is and how she reminds people that they can be strong when they begin to forget. We talked for a while longer.

The name Saeda is a very old name. No one here really names their daughter that anymore. She said she never knew why she was named that until the accident. As soon as she said that, chills shot up my spine. Saeda means “happy.” Now she loves her name and thanks God for it. It was perfectly chosen for her. And I just love God for things like that. He created her inmost being. He knit her together in her mother’s womb. I praise Him because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is such a positive and optimistic person. She does not deny that anything happened and is still haunted by images of it at times, but she is always smiling. And when she speaks up front, she has no shame in using her hands to talk. There is absolutely no effort to try to hide anything, and I’m so proud of her. Al Humdolillah. God chose her name. God named me too. My name means “Princess.” I never liked the meaning of it. I am not a girly girl. I am not high maintenance. I don’t have the commanding yet graceful presence of a princess. But in the summer of 2011, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks, “I don’t call myself a princess, but God thinks I’m one.” God thinks the world of me and lifts me up to that level. He chose my name too.