Photo shoot with Jesus

The items I had with me were a camera, where I snapped family photos and candid shots of the day as inmates met with their families and enjoyed hours with each other, which included pizza, games, handholding, eye contact, sitting at a table together, and continuous memory-making moments.

One inmate stood with his wife for a candid embrace, asking their 20-something son to move aside for that shot, and I grabbed the young man’s arm. “I’ll take you. I’m old enough to be your grandmother. So I could use another grandson, and I’ll take you.”

Little did I know that this young man lost his grandmother not long ago, a woman who, whenever her grandson felt lonely, left out, or less than in a situation as he grew up, well, she always said, “I’ll take you.” And, of course, I learned this later in the day after our little moment together.

This brings me to how important our words are. “I’ll take him” must have felt like a hug from the past, mainly since I’m grandma age-appropriate.

Another memorable moment occurred when another inmate, a man in his early 30s, walked up to me near the end of the event and said, “You made my mom smile today. She’s had some hard days and arrived with a heaviness and worry about certain things. You joked with her and teased her, and she eventually smiled. I needed to see her smile. Thank you.”

Now, I’ll pause here: Who can you help find their smile?

Let’s see, I’ll share one more moment with you. A man, yes, another inmate who wasn’t meeting with family per se, but instead, he was a part of the group of inmates who helped with our event, from pouring drinks to serving food to getting a chair to picking up trash to showing someone where to find a snack to selecting a board game. This man walked before me early in the morning, and his smile stretched across Texas.

I’d met him twice, about a year ago and then the year before, but truthfully, I had no idea what his name might be, but I remembered his face. He stopped right in front of me.

“You don’t know my name, do you?”

I responded. “I do. We’ve met a couple of times.” He grinned wider. “So what’s my name?” I instantly spoke a name that rolled off my lips like it was the correct answer. And he nearly jumped two feet up. He said, “No way. You did remember me.”

I chuckled. “I sure did. (I told him I wasn’t sure if my guess was correct, but that was the first name that came to me.)

This brings me to the point of this column because all those moments above are pictures of what Christ does for us. When we feel lonely or left out, Jesus comforts us and says, “I’ll take you. I’ll hold you. You are mine.”

When we’re frowning or lost or carrying a weight of worry, Jesus can bring a smile to our faces, even during hardships or trials. Remember, our help comes from the Lord. He is our peace. He talks to us. Guides us. And He sees us.

So, my friend, serve God with the idea that what you do can and does matter to someone else. With the Lord as your guide, you’re right where you need to be to touch lives for Him and point others to the Savior. And this makes for the best photograph ever, serving Christ with joy. He’s called you by name, and you can shine for Him even with only a camera and your voice, for He is with you! And remember, no matter what you face, He knows your name and comforts you when all seems lost. He’s the One holding the camera and snapping a photograph of us to print, cherish, and place inside His pocket forever.