let these troubles fly far, far away from here

Earlier last week, my colleague left a surprise gift in my campus office — an origami kit. For reasons I don’t fully understand, I’ve been drawn to this art of paper folding since I was a young girl. But somehow, my colleague sensed origami calmed me, and she’d taken the time to pick up the kit. So, this morning, I decided I might take a stab at folding some paper.

Maybe I might fold something for her.

But before I did, I wanted to make a crane. In elementary school, I remember learning about some story that asserted if an individual folded 1,000 cranes, then peace and good fortune would be bestowed on that person. It just followed (in my mind) that this good fortune would extend to anyone who came into contact with this fortunate origami artist.

As I sifted through the patterned papers, a scene from that well-known Tom Hanks movie, Forest Gump, surfaced. It was that moment when the character Jenny says her sweet little prayer: “Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly far. Far, far away from here.”

Then it occurred to me — I could jot down my worries and fears. Everything that paralyzed me and kept me through the night. I would commit these to paper, fold them into the paper origami cranes I adore so much, and let them fly far, far away from me here.

So I did.




My 7 year old son observed me and wondered what I was up to this Saturday morning. After I explained my plans to him, he asked if he could write down one of his fears as well.


Once we both had finished, I commenced with the folding. Soon, my 4 year old daughter asked if I would create a crane for her as well. Of course! (She didn’t ask if we would write anything in her crane. Ahhh, to be young and completely innocent. I would even take my son’s concerns, but for him they are equally weighty on his young shoulders.)

Our worry birds didn’t fly away and our worries weren’t necessarily erased after we’d folded them within the cranes, but it was such a relief to release them away. It isn’t easy to let go, but this act clears out space and opens our hands to receive.



And then the children began running around the living room, carrying and launching our cranes.

Down the hallway, into their bedrooms, and back out again.


I can’t think of a better way to spend the morning.


[In response to the Daily Prompt: Recharge]