Sunday, March 6, 2011

Paper Cranes and pancreatitis

My darling Nattles makes wonderful paper cranes. She learned origami in Japan, and would send my little treasures in the mail during her time away. This thoughtful friend made me this paper crane mobile, which I have looked at from my bed during oh-so-many sick days.

If making a thousand paper cranes were to heal me, I would start folding now.
Part of me wants to try it, just in case. However, I know I am more productive searching the latest articles and studies on pancreatitis and pain management. I also put my faith and trust in God, not in an origami tradition.

Maybe folding one thousand paper cranes would be cathartic. After hours of folding, I would set them free. Fly away! I would tell them, and they would take off into the horizon. Maybe then I could finally let go of my grief over losing my health, hopes, dreams, expectations and the me before the terrible car accident of July, 2007. I'll never be the same. Not even close. I tell myself: My life will never again be like it was pre-accident. Yet the idea is too sad to think about.

Thinking about the future is not sad, but scary. I want to use my talents and education to contribute to society. Down the road (but not too far), I want to have children. I want to be a better wife. I want to be able to take care of my home and family. I long to spend more time with my family and friends. I want to be able to really laugh again. I want to be active again.

In other words, I want my pain, nausea and fatigue to fly away forever. I want to fix my heart problems and free myself of my low thyroid; reverse my stroke and regain my strength.

These are merely my desires; the Lord has a greater plan for me than I understand right now. 

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of — throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.
 - C.S. Lewis, excerpted from Mere Christianity 


  1. Oh Amy, this post made me cry. You have more life in you than anyone I know. I wish so badly I could take away your pain. You have so much to share with this world and teach us. I know you've taught me so much about strength but mostly how to laugh. I will remember for the rest of my life the night we spent in Lancaster Square. It will forever be one of the favorite nights of my life. I would love to see you soon. Let me know when is a good time to visit. I saw a recipe for scones, lemon curd, and devonshire clotted cream, and was homesick for London and for you! Sending prayers your way.
    Love you beautiful girl!

  2. Oh, I'm so sorry, Amy. I don't even know where to begin. Your friend Kelsey said it very well. You do have SO. Much. Life. in you. I wish there was something I could do to help. I'll continue to keep you in my prayers. Please call anytime. Loves...

  3. Amy, you are the BEST person I know. I love you.

  4. Thank you for your sweet comments and support. Kelsey, Becca, Erica and Charon: you each have lifted my spirits. Thank you. Love, Amy


Your comments feed my blog. I hungry.


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