on in Letting Go“God is in control. God loves these kids more than I ever could.” These are phrases that I found myself saying over and over in my head as I boarded the bus that was to take me away from Kemnay, the village where my team was working in Scotland. Of course those are things that I know, but sometimes a certain kid crosses your path that causes you to turn to those truths a little bit more for reassurance. Devin was one of those kids.
When our team first arrived in Kemnay, some local church kids took us on a tour of the village. As we approached the skate park, one of the church kids saw a group of bikers and roller bladers and said, “Oh, you won’t want to talk to those kids.” Immediately my interest was piqued, so I asked why. “They’re bad news. We don’t really hang out with them.”
“Why don’t we go down anyway and see what’s going on,” I responded.
As we approached I saw a group of about seven or eight boys, and two girls. We watched for a bit, listening to them shout crude words and profanities at each other, and when a few of them skated by I asked them to show me a trick. I think they were surprised by my interest, but excited to show off their skills, so off they went.
After a few minutes of trying their best to impress me, one of the smaller boys came up to me and we started chatting. I asked his name and how old he was - Devin, and nine - and chatted to him about how long he’d been biking for, and what he’d been doing for the summer. He explained that he had been hanging out in Aberdeen a lot, you know, just stealing cars and bikes and things, but had decided to stop getting into trouble. So now he spent most of his days at the skate park biking around, and in the evening he would return there, along with approximately 15 to 20 others, to drink and do drugs. He assured me that if I came back later that evening, he would personally procure at least two glasses of vodka for me - interesting offer from a nine year old! I turned him down and told him we were having a drop-in with our team that evening, and for the rest of the week, and he was more than welcome to come by and see us.
He didn’t show up that evening, but the next evening Devin and a few friends came by the drop-in.
“How old are you?” He asked me. When I told him that I was 26, he laughed and told me to prove it.
So I did, and informed him that I would not lie to him. I said that I believe honesty is very important, and proposed to him a “truth agreement” - neither of us had to tell the other anything, but if we did decide to say something, it must be the truth. He agreed, and not long after told me he had lied about his age earlier, to see how I would respond. Devin was actually 11.
We continued our conversations that night and throughout the week and I learned more about this rough eleven year old that was “bad news.” Suffice it to say, Devin has not had an easy life. He has no father figure to speak of, is often left in charge of his four year old cousin all day and evening, and seemingly has never known love with no strings attached, which is what we tried to offer him that week.
By the end of the week, we’d formed a tight bond and he came to the ceilidh (a traditional Scottish get-together) that the church hosted and, along with a few friends, presented our team with a thank you card that they had all signed. On the last day, as we packed up to go, his eyes started to water. He shuffled his feet a little and told me his little cousin was crying and it was making him cry (meanwhile, she was skipping around humming!) I felt compelled to tell Devin again that the reason we had been there that week was because we wanted him to know that he was loved - that we loved him, but more than that, God did. I told him that the church folk loved him as well, and he was always welcome at the church centre. He looked at me and told me with big eyes, “I know.” I hugged him and he started sniffling and broke down even more.
As I left, my heart was breaking for that little boy, who might have been just beginning to feel lovable as we had to leave. I felt completely powerless, and didn’t want to let go, but as we drove
away, I realized I had to. Devin wasn’t mine. I was not there to “save” him. I had to leave him in God’s hands, where he had been sitting all along. I had just been given the privilege of sitting there beside him for a little while. It was still hard to let go, but it was reassuring to remember that yes, God is in control, and yes, God does love Devin more than I ever could.If you want to help financially with my work in Langley,
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