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 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 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 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 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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