Paper Cranes – TheHumanist.com
Blue light shined through the cracked door and the projector hummed as “The Polar Express” captivated my fifth-grade class. My classmates laughed and played, enjoying the Christmas party they had waited a year for. Outside, I sat cross-legged on the cold hallway tiles, folding paper cranes. I exiled myself, taught that movies about Christmas or magic were unholy. So, I sat there, creasing my paper bird in the silence, listening to the muffled sleigh bells through the drywall—smiling vaguely, convinced that God was proud of me for being alone. Raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, I learned early that the fortress of our faith was built to keep the “secular” world out. Birthdays were pagan, holidays were dangerous, “the world” was destined for destruction and we’ll inherit a paradise earth. I didn’t question the organization. I just kept folding myself smaller to fit inside it. I kept only within the community of Witnesses because that’s what you’re supposed to do. Birthday candles were seen as pagan altars, theories of evolution were temptations from Satan, people who …
