Why?
It’s such a big, complicated question for such a small word.
As adults, we have a lot of “whys”. Why did I say that - I’m so embarrassed. Why did the lady at the PTA meeting look at me that way? Why does the teacher want to see me? Why can’t I get my checkbook to balance? Why is my car making that eerie noise? Why did I eat the whole thing? Why can’t I ever seem to get a moment alone with my husband?
And yet, if those were the only “whys” on our minds, we could learn to live with it. We’d adjust.
But they aren’t.
There are much worse “whys” that invade our thoughts. They were so good together once - why can’t they work things out? Why can’t the bank give us a little more time? Why didn’t I see the signs? Why didn’t I see the doctor about that sooner? Why did such a horrible thing have to happen to her? Why did he have to die so young?
Those are the “whys” that rip at our hearts, either jerking a big chunk out in one fell, painful swoop, or slowly shaving away vital parts until we eventually find ourselves in shreds.
I’ve had too many of those kinds of “whys” in my life already. I’m sure you have too.
So you’d think we’d welcome the innocent, curious “whys” from our children. But instead, those “whys” tug at us, yank at us, snip at us, claw at us, and slice at our nerves to the point where we are so unraveled we scream, “WHY did I have children in the first place?????”
If you have a toddler, the “whys” are probably being hurled at you faster than baseballs from a pitching machine.
“You can’t have a cookie before dinner.” - “WHY?”
“You can’t chase the cat with the baby doll stroller.” - “WHY?”
“Don’t put your hands in your hair while you’re eating.” - “WHY?”
And then there are the “whys” that really make you feel like they have strapped you to the sit and spin toy, round and round and round...
“Where my Daddy?”
“He’s at work.”
“Why?”
“Because he has to go to work to make money.”
“Why?”
“So we can have clothes and food and toys.”
“Why?”
“Because”
“Where my Daddy car?”
“He took it to work.”
“Why?”
“Because he had to drive his car to work.”
“Why?”
“Because he did.”
“Where my Mommy car?”
“We’re getting into Mommy’s car right now.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to go to the babysitter’s house.”
“Why?
DREAD sets in
“Because Mommy has to go to work.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“Where my Daddy?”
“He’s at work.”
“Why?”
Are you KIDDING me????
And still, even though those are the “whys” that take up most of my day, there’s another kind of “why” that will make you look for an ice pick to stab into your own brain.
You know, it’s those moments when you realize you can not win against this child. You’re in a store, and you hear a noise from the next aisle. “What happened, Mommy?”, “I don’t know, sounds like somebody dropped something.” “Why?” “I guess it was an accident. They didn’t mean to drop it.” “We drop it?” “No, we didn’t drop it. They dropped it.” “Why?” It’s at that moment, you stare at your child, dumbfounded. Is this some sort of philosophy question? Hmmnnn...did God direct our path today in such a way that we would NOT be the ones on that aisle at that very moment? If we had been on that aisle, would we have dropped it? Did we really drop it, but then, like a science fiction character, morph into the shelves and leave the other people there bewildered?
Or, is this a trick? Do you really want me to go into all the reasons we didn’t drop the item. Let’s see, because for one, we weren’t the ones holding that item. We weren’t standing on that aisle. We weren’t on that aisle because we’d already moved to another aisle. We had already moved to another aisle because we arrived at the store five minutes earlier than they did. We arrived five minutes earlier because we made it through the last stop light before they did. We made it through the last stop light because Mommy went through yellow. Mommy went through yellow because I didn’t see it turning yellow. I didn’t see it turning yellow because you were calling my name from the back seat for the fortieth time. You were calling my name for the fortieth time because you dropped your sippy cup yet again, after I’d told you to hold it tightly the first 39 times. You dropped it the first 39 times because you thought it was funny. You thought it was funny because apparently the bulging vein in Mommy’s forehead is hilarious. On and on it could go.
And then your child gets older, and the “whys” become less curious, less of a way to engage conversation, and more of an expression of frustration with you.
“Your friend can not spend the night this weekend.”
“Whhhyyyy?”
“You can’t wear that to school.”
“Whhhyyyy?”
“You most certainly may not go on a date with a boy who looks like THAT.”
“Whhhyyyyyyyyyyyy?”
It enough to make you question why you get up in the morning.
And then it hits you. Morning.
Your sister is going in for that medical test in the morning.
Your best friends are signing the divorce papers in the morning.
The bank is foreclosing in the morning.
They will bury him in the morning.
And the “whys” your children ask, or even whine, don’t seem like such a nuisance anymore. They are so young. They are innocent. Their frustrations with the world are so minor, will change all too quickly into the “whys” that break their hearts.
You may not always have the patience to respond to their “whys”, but you can cherish the knowledge, that at least for now, you can still answer their questions.
