Odd or Even: Rescuing a Street Boy
When Victor grabbed a piece of wood bigger than himself to hit my windshield, I knew it was time to run after him.
All morning I had worked with this nine-year-old ex-street boy trying to convince him not to leave ABBA’s Casa Elohim. The team at the house had tried to reach his heart with games, sports activities, four healthy meals a day, group therapy sessions, personal tutoring and Bible studies. Victor had arrived nine months earlier, plenty of time to have calmed down, but it seemed his behavior had only gotten worse.
During the previous few days Victor had begun to disappear all day and return only for dinner or at bedtime. Since we had his guardianship, and therefore the obligation to care for him, the team would let him in. But the time came when his behavior had begun to damage the work with the other boys in the house. I had finally decided to go to the juvenile judge to ask for his transfer.
I typed a report for the judge and called Victor. He seemed cooperative and came with me. But on the way to the car he got scared and ran.
In most cases I would have let him go and reported the fact to the judge, waiting for another time to try to help him. We’ve learned the hard way that you can’t help kids who don’t want helping. But Victor’s case was different. We couldn’t have him using us as a hotel.
I followed him by car for over half an hour trying to avoid raising the curiosity of our neighbors. But he got frustrated and started pelting the car with rocks. When he grabbed the pole, that was too much! I got out of the car. He dropped the pole and started to run. After about 100 feet I caught him by the arm and he started screaming for help.
“How old are you?” he asked incredulously after he had settled down. “You can run faster than I thought!”
The courthouse is a cold, institutional place with white walls and high concrete ceilings. As we waited for the social worker, Victor started getting really nervous.
“Is the judge a Christian?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” I answered, seeing the worry in his eyes.
“Let’s play ‘odd or even.’” He was trying to divert the conversation. But before we could play, the social worker came. I had asked her to shake him up a little . She talked to him seriously about what it meant to go into a state program. She took the report I had written to the judge, but they didn’t have anywhere to put him. They suggested we send him back to the state child protection program which had sent him to us.
As we walked to the car I worried about how I would explain this to the team. Victor wanted to play odd or even. He won the first time. That meant he could ask for whatever he wanted and I had to get it for him.
“I want another chance at Casa Elohim.” My eyes widened. Could he be serious?
The next time he won he asked to be taken to see his stepfather who is in prison. Then he asked for a Bible.
When it was my turn I asked him to smile more often. I asked him to finish the extra chore I had given him before he ran away.
He asked to see his mother. “Why can’t you live with her?” I asked. He told me about his neighbor that had threatened to kill him for thievery. Suddenly it occurred to me that he only wanted to be like his stepfather. He had picked on the kids at school until they kicked him out. He fought with the other boys in the house constantly. Even his running away seemed motivated by this desire to emulate his stepfather.
As the conversation unfolded I realized this little game gave Victor the platform he needed to communicate. He lacked the courage or skill to simply talk to me, but the game gave him a frame through which to open a window into his soul.
Back at my office I asked him to finish sweeping the sidewalk (which he had started before running away the day before) while he dictated a letter to his stepfather. Since he can’t read, I gave him a cartoon New Testament from my cupboard.
That night I emailed many of our prayer partners asking them to pray for Victor. We are happy that he has chosen to stay at Casa Elohim and that his mother has started visiting him every month. Her name is Andrea. Ask the Savior to touch her heart with His love soon and to give her a new place to live so she can receive her son back home.
Every time I visit we still play odd or even.
— Thomas Smoak