From Style Me Pretty.
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