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 in
which Kevin lives. 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, returning to eat his
favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed.
The only variation in the entire scheme are laundry days,
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. "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.
I don't think Kevin knows anything exists outside 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 or power, and he does
not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of
food he eats. He recognizes no differences in people, treating
each person as an equal and a friend. 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 submit them to Christ.
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 the
Lord. 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....
written by
Kelly Adkins
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