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My Fire

There was a young girl - 5 or 6 years old, who arrived one day. She was quiet, and didn't stand out at first. I worked with her and the other girls, guiding them through their first day at camp. At camp, that first day is about meeting the counselor, learning ther rules, and playing ice-breaker games to help them to get to know each other. All my girls seemed timid and sweet, and I expected a great week. Evening came, and I prepared them for bed. With all tucked into bed, this one began sobbing. She said she couldn't sleep. Not wanting her to disturb the others, I pulled her down from her bunk, and cuddled her as I took her out on the front stoop. I sat with her in my arms and rocked her, talking to her, asking her questions to distract her. She kept saying she missed her mom. Nothing I said seemed to help. I drew from my own experience: that kids don't get along with siblings. I thought I'd use this- if she had siblings, I could point out that she was away from them for a few days.That backfired. I asked her, "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" She answered, "I had a baby brother but he died." She cried harder as she described the details of the step father's anger, leading to her brother's death. Her mom had been found (or assumed) to know about abuse in the home, so my girl could only see her mom with supervision. Up to that point, this was the hardest situation I'd encountered. I continued to rock her, and I sang to her until she fell asleep. She changed my career path. Other kids kept my focus, but with her, I realized that I had the ability to bring comfort to a child - even with a situation as horrible as this. She is the source of my passion to work with abused and emotionally disturbed youth.
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