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God Lives Under the Bed

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Here is one of those very beautiful and poignant e-mails that get sent around. 
Amrit Kaur forwarded it to us.
 
 

God Lives Under The  Bed   
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!!
 
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.


GOD  LIVES UNDER THE BED 
 
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 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 or  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 for your friends. That's all you  have to do. There is nothing attached. This is  powerful.
 
FRIENDS  ARE ANGELS WHO LIFT US TO OUR FEET WHEN OUR  WINGS HAVE TROUBLE REMEMBERING HOW TO  FLY
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