God Lives Under the Bed
Unknown
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!
I tune in and listen to my Guidance.
Lynn Grabhorn
The cosmic joke is that we were designed to live by our senses, not by our brains. But over the eons we've learned to think our responses instead of feel them, totally backwards from the way all the rest of nature lives. Animals and plants do it (live by their senses), while all of us closed-down, disconnected humans snicker at it.
But when you really start playing the Feel Good game, I promise, it's better than an all-day ticket to Disneyland. You listen and do, listen and do, listen and do, trusting your Guidance without hesitation.
So if you have five dozen friends and family telling you to do “this,” but your deepest impulse is to do “that,” always, always follow your impulse (provided it feels good!). Why? Just do it a few times and you'll see why. Your Guidance system is doing all it knows how to get you where you want to go to follow your Original Intent. So give it a chance. Tune in and listen up; that Expanded Self knows what it's doing.
Changing the Past
Ralph Marston
Do you ever wish that you could change the past? If you could change the past, you would be able to correct every mistake, avoid every accident, and never experience the pain of regret.
In fact, you can very easily change the past. You simply must do it before the past becomes the past.
This moment where you are right now will soon be in the past. So now is your golden opportunity to assure that it will be a past you'll be pleased to have.
With care and focus, with love, discipline and positive intention, you can do just that. You can change what will soon be the past into the best that it can be.
Imagine not having to wonder what would have happened if only you had been a little more careful, thoughtful or diligent. Imagine living your life with no regrets.
Imagine it, and know that right now is your chance to make it so. Use this moment to give yourself a past that won't need any changes at all.
Feelings
Feelings of inferiority and superiority are the same.
They both come from fear.
Remember what the Angel said.
Looney Toons
Written by Unknown—Presented by Nicole Schairer
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