I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed.
\nAt least that’s what I heard him say one night. <\/p>\n
He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to
\nlisten, ‘Are you there, God?’ he said. ‘Where are you? Oh, I see. Under
\nthe bed… <\/p>\n
I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin’s unique
\nperspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something
\nelse lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the
\nvery different world Kevin lives in. <\/p>\n
He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of
\ndifficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he’s 6-foot-2), there
\nare few ways in which he is an adult. <\/p>\n
He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a
\n7-year-old, and he
\n always will. He will probably always believe that God lives
\nunder his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our
\ntree every Christmas and that airplanes stay up in the sky because
\nangels carry them. <\/p>\n
I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he
\never dissatisfied with his monotonous life? <\/p>\n
Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the
\ndisabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite
\nmacaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed. <\/p>\n
The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he
\nhovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn
\nchild. <\/p>\n
He does not seem dissatisfied. <\/p>\n
He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day
\nof simple work. <\/p>\n
He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove
\nbefore dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty
\nlaundry for his next day’s laundry chores. <\/p>\n
And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That’s the day my Dad
\ntakes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land,
\nand speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. ‘That
\none’s goin’ to Chi-car-go!’ Kevin shouts as he claps his hands. <\/p>\n
His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday
\nnights. <\/p>\n
And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips. <\/p>\n
He doesn’t know what it means to be discontent. <\/p>\n
His life is simple. <\/p>\n
He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he
\ndoes not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he
\neats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day
\nthey may not be. <\/p>\n
His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is
\nworking. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart
\nis completely in it. <\/p>\n
He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not
\nleave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin
\nknows how to relax. <\/p>\n
He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His
\nheart is pure. <\/p>\n
He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be
\nkept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue. <\/p>\n
Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not
\nafraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always trans parent
\n, always sincere. And he trusts God. <\/p>\n
Not confined by intellectual reasoning when he comes to Christ,
\nhe comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God – to really be friends with
\nHim in a way that is difficult for an ‘educated’ person to grasp. God
\nseems like his closest companion. <\/p>\n
In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity I
\nenvy the
\n security Kevin has in his simple faith. <\/p>\n
It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some
\ndivine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions <\/p>\n
It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the
\nhandicap I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances –
\nthey all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God’s care <\/p>\n
Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After
\nall, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying
\nafter dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God. <\/p>\n
And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are
\nall amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I’ll realize that
\nGod heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under
\nhis bed. <\/p>\n
Kevin won’t be surprised at all! <\/p>\n
Author Unknown..<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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