If you’ve ever had the good fortune to spend quality time with a two year old you are bombarded with “why” questions. “Why is that called a rainbow? Why does a dog bark? Why do I have to go to bed? But why?”
If you think about it “why’s” are not just the province of the extremely young and curious. At my advanced age I am still plagued by “whys”.
Why is it that some people die a quiet, dignified death and others go out slowly, all dignity gone and, far too often, in absolute agony?
Recently a friend reported on the death of the brother of her father-in-law. She said, “When I phoned Bill yesterday, he shared the sad news that his brother, Lenny, had passed away. He talked to him Friday morning and he was gone by 2 that afternoon. Lenny was at home with his wife when he coughed, closed his eyes and died.” A perfect exit from this world.
My mother-in-law had a massive stroke and was unable to speak, walk, or use her hands from that day until her death five years later. What is the sense in that?
Why do some countries have an abundance of everything: food, water, clean air, leisure time, and every conceivable luxury? For the citizens of other countries, life is a struggle. Every day is a scrabble for the bare necessities of life. Why is that?
Why are some people born beautiful, talented, and with great personalities? For others, their looks are a challenge, they have no marketable talents and their own mothers have to work at liking them. Why is that?
Why do cats disdain to give their owners the time of day; yet dogs fawn and grovel? I mean, really, who could do their owners the most damage if they chose to? Explain that one.
Why don’t the citizens from other planets drop by for a visit? There are rumours that they are out there. Why don’t they act hospitable and drop in for a meal? Isn’t that the polite thing to do?
My ‘why’ list could go on and on. I believe there are more questions in the world than there are answers. Why is that?