The Task Closest to You

Who said that?  What were they talking about?  My mind is a jumble today.  I have a dim memory of reading Jacqueline Kennedy quoting some poet or philosopher who was referring to how, in the midst of overwhelming tragedy or trouble, all you can do is focus on the task at hand.  You cannot solve the problem, you cannot even make a dent in the problem. All you can do is attend to the things around you.

That's what I'm trying to do today, when nothing seems to matter except the victims and their loved ones in Colorado. After the horror wears off, and then the numbness, you're left with the stories. The guys who sacrified their lives by shielding their girlfriends' bodies with their own. The 24-year old woman with the red hair, who dreamed of being a sportscaster. The 13-year-old girl who tried to perform CPR on her dying six-year-old cousin.

I think it's the setting that's so poignant to me.  It seems so innocent: hundreds of people waiting up for the midnight showing because they had to be the first to see the new Batman movie!  I think of the young people making plans and amassing a group.  I wonder if the people closer to my age took a pre-emptive nap earlier in the day, or took a cup of coffee into the theater.  I would have. Were they laughing at themselves for getting so excited about a superhero movie?  I imagine them sitting through the previews, the excitement building, enjoying the sense of community and festivity that comes from being part of an "event."

A maniac bursts into a theater, and 12 innocent people are dead. And since there is not a thing I can do about it, I attend to the tasks at hand.  I went to church. I prayed for comfort and healing for the victims and their families. I had lunch with my sister. I gave Jackson a ride to work.  My plants looked a little droopy, so I watered them.  My cat, who is ailing, was a little clingier than usual, so I gave her special attention. And though I've never felt less like doing it, I pulled on my tennis shoes and put one foot in front of the other until the clock said 90 minutes.
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