The pictures.

I said I wasn't going to let photos (or lack thereof) hold me up anymore. But I did. I've got some fun pics of our Flagstaff trip to show you, but just haven't gotten them together yet.

Today I'm not posting pictures, though.

In fact, I think the only ones I've taken this week were with a friend's camera. I was little surprised when he handed it to me there in the hospital room and asked if I would get photos of everyone.

At first, I thought he just wanted to remember all the people who were crammed into the room - his parents, a neighbor, some friends I knew, some I didn't. Of course, he and his wife were in the center of it all. And, of course, the baby wasn't. Her little heart had stopped just two weeks before her due date. Her still body had been delivered the day before. And so the crowded room - with chatting and hugs and tears so close to falling and laughter breaking through - it still felt a little empty.

As I snapped photos, I listened to the conversations swirling around me about life and loss and God's goodness through deep sorrow. And I started to think that maybe there's another reason for the pictures. Maybe they're a reminder, a testimony, an altar of sorts. Maybe they say this is when things were so hard and when God carried us through.

Maybe they're not so much about the people that came to the hospital that night or the little one who left so suddenly, but about the God who was always - is always - with them.