God Is Under My Bed
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 outside his closed door 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, 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, returning to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for
dinner, and later to bed.
The only variation in the entire scheme are laundry days, 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. I don't think Kevin knows anything
exists outside 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.
He recognizes no differences in people, treating each person as an
equal and a friend.
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 submit them to Christ. 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 The Lord.
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.
[ Author Unknown -- from Barry and Delphine Bowman, via Chaplain777-owner@yahoogroups.com ]
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