Why do I keep asking why?

My son was very, very verbal when he was little.  One of those double edged swords:  large vocabulary but also talking ALL the time.

One Thursday evening, as we were driving home from the church Eucharist and potluck, he was sitting in his car seat behind my husband and me.  As we drove down the street, my son just kept talking and talking.

"Why is the stoplight red?"
"Why is the stoplight green?"
"Why are we driving so slowly?"
"Why does the moon look so big?"
"Why do I keep asking why?"

At which point, the comic relief filled the car, as did a brief respite from all the questions.

I often retell that story.  Mainly because it is funny, but also because it is a poignant metaphor for life.  Sometimes we are all just so caught up in trying to figure out why, that we miss the what that is happening right before us.  The what of family.  The what of humor. The what of grace.