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I received
this by email in Dec. 07. It
really really touched my
heart and I wanted to share
it with everytone. Enjoy! / ~
Kris
God
Lives Under The Bed
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, a nd 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 hav e 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
Written by Kelly
Adkins
Kelly
Pinson Adkins ©1999
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