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 6'2"), 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, returning to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner,
and later to bed. The only variation in the entire scheme is 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 or 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 arguing. 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 fears, 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
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