"God Lives Under The Bed" - author unknown -
I
envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's
what I heard him say one night.
He
was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, "Are
you there, God?" he said. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the
bed..."
I
giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are
often a source of amusement But that night something else lingered long after
the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives
in.
He
was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during
labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is
an adult.
He
reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always
will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa
Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that
airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.
I
remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different.
Is
he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?
Up
before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk
our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner,
and later to bed.
The
only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over
the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.
He
does not seem dissatisfied.
He
lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.
He
wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner,
and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next
day's laundry chores.
And
Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the
airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on
the destination of each passenger inside.
"That
one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.
His
anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.
And
so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.
He
doesn't know what it means to be discontent.
His
life is simple.
He
will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what
brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always
been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.
His
hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he
unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.
He
does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until
it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.
He
is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure.
He
still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you
are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.
Free
from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he
is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he
trusts God.
Not
confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a
child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is
difficult for an "educated" person to grasp. God seems like his
closest companion.
In
my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity I envy the security
Kevin has in his simple faith.
It
is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that
rises above my mortal questions.
It
is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap . . I am. My
obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they all become disabilities
when I do not trust them to God's care.
Who
knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent
his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the
goodness and love of God.
And
one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how
close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple
prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.
Kevin
won't be surprised at all!
No comments:
Post a Comment