Lindsey
Taylor
On this Series
The story goes—
we planted seeds somewhere a long time ago and learned some things. It was a deserted backyard in the city, full of weeds and needles and debris. We turned over the soil, we prepared some seeds, and we sowed. I went nearly every day to water, to weed (and weed and weed). What grew was beautiful and abundant; far more than I had imagined would grow.. but over much time and from much work.
Figuratively, I have been in a mirrored season of this garden. A time of showing up every day with working hands and with expectation. Often I look back to then and the things learnt in that garden, under that hot sun and kneeling in that wet soil. I remember the importance of showing up daily; the importance of patient waiting. I also remember the brimming anticipation as the soil shifted and small shoots emerged.
“That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.” (Romans 8:22-25, MSG)
The latest illustrated series is 'Therizō' - what we reaped. This greek word, translated to “to reap”, is in reference to a harvest. It serves as a reminder to me of this garden and all of its lessons, and it stands as a testament of a good wait. These are the flowers I sowed, worked and waited for."
Towards the end of creating the highlighted series, Therizō, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. It is new enough that it still feels odd to say. It is what determined the final three larger works, ‘Still I See Gardens’, which I imagine as a big loud shout of determination when my eyesight was failing me. The outlook of my heart is inherently hopeful around this, despite what things sometimes look like (truly literally), and I feel it necessary to say: that despite the burdens that come (because they always will), we must be able to see beyond the grief of this world into the next, with hope-filled hearts, and move onwards.
I hope we can still see gardens (all of the beauty and all of the good) when we are faced head-on with trials. What a relief it is to do so!