GOD LIVES
UNDER THE BED...
Very
touching story.
I think this is perhaps one of the
BEST email "forwards" I have ever read. I hope you will enjoy it half as much as I
have!!
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.
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 those 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 discontented.
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. Especially 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!
When
you receive this, say a prayer. That's
all you have to do. There is nothing
attached. This is powerful.
Prayer
is one of the best free gifts we receive. There is no cost, but a lot of rewards.
FRIENDS
ARE ANGELS WHO LIFT US TO OUR FEET WHEN OUR WINGS HAVE TROUBLE REMEMBERING HOW
TO FLY