Potomac resident Nadia Saad-Miller’s adventurous life-story could be made into an action film including danger, intrigue and romance. In her 40 years with the United Nations and World Bank, she was dedicated to improving social and economic conditions of the poor and underdeveloped people around the world. This enthusiasm for improving the world around her placed her in perilous situations as well as positions of leadership unknown to most women in the Middle East even now, but certainly not in the 1950s and ’60s.

Among other activities, she worked in impoverished Egyptian rural areas and in the miserable conditions of a Palestinian refugee camp. She advised leaders in Saudi Arabia on how to improve the status of women, survived the Civil War in Lebanon, directed programs in many countries to save the environment — and once stood before an assassin holding a gun to her head. Years after her retirement, she married for the first time, moved to Potomac with her husband Larry Miller and is now dedicated to her new status as wife, step-mother and grandmother and to living in suburbia for the first time.

She was born in Damascus, Syria and was 6 weeks old when her family moved to Cairo, Egypt. At age 17, she decided to go to study in Paris instead of marrying her cousin George as her family had planned. There she worked night shifts in the School for the Blind to earn degrees in economics, political science and Islamic studies. She speaks three languages fluently: English, French and Arabic.

She left Paris to work with UNESCO in rural Egypt, helping to improve lives and conditions in small villages. She then won an International competition to work in the International Labor Office, a branch of the UN in Geneva, Switzerland. Next, she joined the staff of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) in New York City. The UN sent her to advise the government of Saudi Arabia on improving the status of women. “I was promised that in two years, women would be driving cars. Can you imagine,” said Saad-Miller, “after 40 years, women are still not permitted to drive, are still veiled and must have a male guardian.”

When she left Saudi Arabia, she became the regional director of the UN Environmental Program, based in Beirut, covering the Middle East and Western Asia. She worked with 15 scientists in the management of environmental programs mainly protecting arid lands and the Mediterranean environment. She lived through the Lebanese Civil War and then was evacuated to Kenya, the headquarters of United Nations Environmental Program (UNEP).

During a break in the war, she decided to return to Beirut to see her home. “I was horrified to discover a huge hole in the exterior wall and the traces of bomb that had directly landed over my bed,” Saad-Miller said. “While I was exploring the damage, a knock came to my door. I opened it and a young man put a gun to my nose. ‘I am going to kill you,’ he said.”

She found a courage she didn’t know she had. “I looked him straight in the eyes. You can kill me if you wish, I shouted. Who wants to live in this crazy country? But you first have to tell me why you want to kill me.”

“I want your home for my gang,” he answered.

She said: “You can have the house, but listen well. I worked all my life to have this house for my father, who wants to return to Lebanon to die in his native country. You must promise me that after you kill me, you will bring my father here.”

He said “OK.”

Then I said, “Now listen. I am coming from a harrowing two weeks of work in Yemen and I’m exhausted. Would you please allow me to have a cup of coffee before you kill me?”

He agreed and sat down with her. While having coffee together, he asked her, “Do you know who I am?” She said no.

He said “Dankoura.” He explained that he was responsible for killing 18 people at a church during Mass before the election of President Frangieh — and that he had just escaped from prison.

She told him, “Do you know who I am? I work for the UN and live in the U.S. You know that when the war ends, you will be taken back to prison. If you were smart guy, you would get out of this country now.”

He said, “How?” She told him that she had arranged for a cousin of hers to go to Chicago. He was a wretch, but was now a millionaire. She said, “I can get you to Chicago. You only have to come back with a passport early tomorrow morning.” When he returned, she was gone.

In 1979, she came to D.C. to work for the World Bank. She lived in Chevy Chase and started bring environmental issues to light at a time when the environment was a dirty word in the World Bank, considered just a “feminine craze.” “That has changed since and I was among the few who introduced environmental work as the priority that it has become now in the World Bank,” she said. She remained at the World Bank for 17 years.

She had always had an interest in women’s issues. She began a dialogue with Layli Miller-Muro, a D.C. attorney and activist who is the founder and executive director of the Tahrih Justice Center. This non-profit organization is dedicated to protecting women from human rights abuse through the provision of legal aid, social and medical services and public policy advocacy.

She became interested in Layli’s father, Larry, when she read one of his books, “Spiritual Enterprises” and saw a photo of him on-line sitting in front of his library. She liked his face and noticed that the books on his shelf were the same books that she had also personally enjoyed reading. They were married and moved to Potomac in 2013.

Miller is encouraging Saad-Miller to author a book telling the many stories of her life. She said, “I would like to write a book, but for now, I’m getting organized and used to my new life. I love my new house, my new life and role of being a grandmother and a member of a large family.”