Nature not nurture

Little Johnny was troubled in his soul one day.

"My Lord, why is the world such a difficult place to live in? Why do so many things happen that I don't understand?"

The wind whistled in the trees.

"Lord, why is it that people are so difficult to talk to?"

The wind whistled in the trees.

"Lord, why are quiet handsome men known as strong and silent, noisy handsome men known as the life of the party, but quiet average-lookers known as timid and retiring, and noisy average-lookers attention-seekers?"

The wind whistled in the trees.

"Lord, why do people kill people in your name? Why the crusades, why the inquisition, why the intifada? Why do you allow evil men to hold sway over not just the world but also your church? Why is there hunger, depravity, poverty, cancer?"

The wind whistled in the trees.

"Lord, why don't you answer? Why do you not hear me? Do you not exist at all?"

The wind whistled in the trees.

"My Lord, my Lord, why have you forsaken me? Have I all my life believed in a lie? Is my life meaningless?"

Little Johnny cast his eyes to the sky. The sun was shining still, yet clouds black and white shimmered in the sky, rain was coming soon. He cast his eyes down to the ground. Ants hurried in broken wavering lines, among yellowing grass and the cracked brown earth. Birds shook the trees with their murmuring, cars sped down the adjoining road throwing up clouds of dust.

The wind whistled in the trees.

And Little Johnny believed.