I got this one in my e-mail... I went, " Wow Man !!!! "
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'm
thankful that this person took the time to admire the gift that God
gave Kevin.
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 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 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 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! When you receive this, say a prayer. That's all you have to do.
There is nothing attached. This is powerful. Just send this to four
people and do not break this, please. 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
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'm
thankful that this person took the time to admire the gift that God
gave Kevin.
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 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 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 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! When you receive this, say a prayer. That's all you have to do.
There is nothing attached. This is powerful. Just send this to four
people and do not break this, please. 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
