I heard Lynette Johnson on the radio this morning, talking about her photographs. She is a Seattle-based professional photographer but also volunteers at the children's hospice to take pictures of terminally ill children so that the families will have something (relatively) tangible left when their children die. I�m assuming she doesn�t stalk the halls like she�s at the Magic Kingdom or anything, wearing knee socks and knickers, hustling�families or hospital staff members call her if they�re interested.

When she lost her niece, she said, the nurse had a terrible bedside manner and so she and the father were regrettably afraid to pick up the stillborn child. When she had the chance to photograph a frail baby and his parents she finally felt that there was some purpose to the death of her niece�the parents were afraid the baby was too fragile to hold but Lynette convinced them to hold him, that they would be glad later that they hadn�t missed the opportunity. She thinks about them having that photograph and it brings her some comfort for her own loss.

There are so many things that don�t make sense about life�why children�s lives get cut short is one of the heaviest. But there is complicated beauty in doing something like this, seemingly small as it might be. To have someone like Lynette come in and say with her photography �this life matters� at a time that is in so many ways the definitive end of the line to these families feels (to me) like the world is being changed, even if just a tiny bit. I could go on and write about art being redemptive and all (and I think it is) but then I would be in danger of overshadowing the depth of what goes on in those hospital rooms while she is taking those photographs. It is something that cannot be put into words, but comes close to what I think the word faith could mean if it hadn�t been so sullied up by human beings� darker motives.

Listen to the show and look at her photos here if�n you like.