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MY BROTHER CHUCK by Beth My brother Chuck thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I overheard him say one night. He was praying in his darkened bedroom and I stopped outside his door to listen. "Are you there, God?" he said. "Where are You?" There is a pause-and then, in a relieved voice, "Oh, I see. Under the bed." I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Chuck's unique perspectives are always a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Chuck lives in. He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of labor difficulties during birth. Apart from his size (he's 6'2"), there are few ways that he is an adult. He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a seven-year old. I remember wondering if Chuck was ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life. Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to eat his favorite macaroni and cheese for dinner, and later to bed. The only change in this routine is laundry day, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with a newborn child. But he does not seem dissatisfied. He lopes out to the school bus every morning at 7:05 a.m., eager for a day of work; he wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner. He stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's chores. On Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! My dad takes Chuck to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger. "That one's going to Chi-cargo!" he'll shout and clap his hands. He can hardly sleep on Friday nights in anticipation. I do not think Chuck knows what it means to be discontent. 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 difference in people, treating all as equals and as friends. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one-day, they may not be. His hands are diligent. Chuck is never so happy as when he is when he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet. His heart is completely in it. He does not shrink from a job, and he does not quit a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Chuck knows how to relax. He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure too. He believes everyone tells the truth, that promises must be kept, and that when you are wrong, you apologize. Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Chuck is not afraid to cry. He is always sincere. And he trusts God. Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he always comes as a child. In my moments of doubt and frustration, I envy the security of his simple faith. Yet, it is then I realize and am humbled that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. My obligations, my fears, my pride, my circumstances all become disabilities when I do not give them away to God. Maybe Chuck can comprehend things I may never learn. He has spent his whole life in innocence, after all, talking to God, who lives under his bed, and soaking up the goodness and love of the Lord. One day, when the mysteries of Heaven are opened, we will all be amazed at how close God really is to our hearts. But Chuck won't be surprised at all.. ENCHANTED MERMAID'S GROTTO |
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