Where Does God Live
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 you
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 7yr-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 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 dilligent.
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 your hearts,
I'll realize that God
heard the simple prayers
of a boy who believes
that God heard the simple prayers
of a boy who believes
that God lives under his bed.
Kevin won't be surprised at all!
