One sunny morning in spring, my little boy – who was 4 years old – said the following: “Mummy, I can’t see through this window.” We were sitting together on his bed and he was pointing toward the left square of his bedroom window. It looked like this:
I replied: “Yes, it is like that because there is water trapped inside the double-glazing.” He then asked me the following question: “Why don’t you take it out?”. And my answer was this: “That is because I don’t know how to open it and I don’t know how I would seal it up again.” Immediately after I had said it, I understood the profound truth in this, as I felt my eyes water, but defaulted to my usual instinct of keeping the tears locked up inside. My son, who usually keeps the “Why?”-game going for a long while, seemed to be equally satisfied with my reply. He proceeded on to another game. I watched in awe and quietly thanked him for enabling me to express my state of mind in such a simple and pain-free way.
The questions only stop once you have given the right answer. The answer is just exactly what is there, right in front of you. It is quite simple, actually. Before long, you can let it go and pass on to something else. The questions my son asks not only allow him to understand the universe a bit better. They do the same for whoever is prepared to listen. They have the potential to give peace and healing. It works both ways – in fact, it is incidental.