>of
heaven belongs to such as these." (Matt 19:14)
That brings up a nice email I got along the same lines…a
bit long, but worth the read:
God Lives Under the Bed...
Don't start reading this one until you've got more than 3 or 4 minutes
to just "scan" over it. It deserves some time for reflection.
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-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 speculates 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!
