Many of us who live in Lafayette, Louisiana — where Shift Key is based — are emotionally exhausted by now. The tragic, senseless events of last Thursday night at our local movie theater continue to crush us as a community and as friends of victims.

When tragedies of this magnitude occur, there is no instruction booklet for what to do or how to respond. Maybe it was because I had to explain all of this to my 13-year-old daughter that I recognized the need for doing something — something beautiful and in community. My 13-year-old daughter folds cranes better than anyone I know. It’s something she shared with friends involved in this horrible event. So, on Friday morning, after I explained what had happened to my daughter, I suggested we start making a senbazuru. A senbazuru is 1,000 cranes strung together in 25 strands of 40 cranes each. I knew she and I could make a start on it and that friends would join in.

And, they have — in droves. New friends and old friends have made cranes of all colors. Many of shapes and sizes a little different from those in the instruction booklets. However, we’re a group who appreciate an odd bird — those cranes are welcome in our senbazuru too!

Personally, I have found that sitting around a table with people I love — all of us folding origami cranes — is as healing and soothing of an activity as I know. Once I learned and practiced the rather complex process, the act of folding a crane is almost meditative and prayerful. We are still sad and filled with questions and what ifs, but for now, we keep folding cranes — taking ordinary pieces of paper and, with a little time, energy and attention to detail, we turn them into something beautiful.

Sometimes, there’s nothing else to say — no need for content marketing, content strategies, social media plans or design. All we can do is be our best, be mindful of others and tell those we love how much we care. As a friend said, nothing makes us feel more human than celebrating the life of someone so young, creative and vibrant. In that sense, many of us have felt more human this week than we usually do. And in feeling this human, we acknowledge the complicated way grief and hope can exist simultaneously.