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!
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