Acrylic, oil pastels, and ink on canvas, 8 × 10 in., 2026
Some people pray with their hands in the dirt. Knees down, sun on their neck, watering can nearby, talking to God between the pulling and the planting. A friend told me once that the garden is where her best conversations happen — not inside, not sitting still, but out here, helping something grow.
There's something quietly beautiful about that. Tending to a creation while talking to the Creator. The garden doesn't rush the conversation, and neither does He. The most beautiful things usually take the most time.
Acrylic, oil pastels, and ink on canvas, 8 × 10 in., 2026
Some people pray with their hands in the dirt. Knees down, sun on their neck, watering can nearby, talking to God between the pulling and the planting. A friend told me once that the garden is where her best conversations happen — not inside, not sitting still, but out here, helping something grow.
There's something quietly beautiful about that. Tending to a creation while talking to the Creator. The garden doesn't rush the conversation, and neither does He. The most beautiful things usually take the most time.
