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 discontented. His life is simple. He will never know
the entanglements of wealth and 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!
Author unknown, contributed by Keith Murphy
