New Mercies: Art That Holds Hope
In a world that feels loud, rushed, and heavy, I find myself returning again and again to the same question:
How can we slow down long enough to notice what really matters?
My work has always been rooted in that longing. I create art to bring hope and healing into everyday life, art that invites us to pause, to look closely, and to reconnect with the natural world, the place we all come from.
Nature teaches us things we easily forget.
That growth takes time.
That roots support one another underground.
That transformation often begins invisibly.
These ideas don’t just shape my artwork; they shape how I move through the world.
Art as Sanctuary
I believe some of us want our homes to feel like sanctuaries. Not perfect or polished, but places of rest. Places that hold meaning. Places that remind them of what they believe and who they are becoming.
That’s who I create for: those who crave beauty with depth, who sense that caring for the Earth is also a way of caring for ourselves, and who are looking for quiet joy in the midst of busy lives.
New Mercies grew out of that same desire, but in a way that was more communal, more prayerful, and more layered than most of the artworks I create.
New Mercies is now on display at Bridgeway Christian Church in Roseville, California.
The Story Behind New Mercies
This piece began as a sacred, collective act of faith during Bridgeway Christian Church’s Call to Prayer and Fasting in August 2025.
Handwritten prayer requests from attendees were carefully adhered to the wood panel and faithfully prayed over by Bridgeway staff and volunteers during the forty days of prayer and fasting. Each piece of paper carried a story, hopes spoken and unspoken, longings, grief, trust.
For the Worship, Prayer, and Healing Night, the image of a bare tree was introduced. It symbolized waiting, surrender, and quiet trust, the kind of faith that doesn’t rush ahead of God but remains present even when answers aren’t yet visible.
As prayer continued, layers of paint and additional prayer requests, written on transparent paper, were added to the surface. Slowly, patiently, the piece began to build, not all at once, but layer by layer, much like the prayers themselves.
As prayers were answered and testimonies were shared, leaves were gradually added to the tree. With each layer of color and growth, the once-bare branches were transformed into a living record of God’s faithfulness.
Stories of healing.
Of provision.
Of restoration.
Of grace.
New Mercies became a visual testimony, not just of individual faith, but of hope held in community.
A Few Hidden Treasures (Just for Blog Readers)
If you ever have the chance to stand in front of New Mercies, I hope you’ll take your time. There are a few details woven into this piece that aren’t immediately obvious.
Most of the leaves you see are photo transfers of leaves from the valley oak tree in our front yard, a tree that quietly witnesses our daily lives, seasons of growth and loss, and the slow faithfulness of time.
You can see one of the real leaves in the upper right hand corner of this image.
But three of the leaves in this piece are real leaves, carefully embedded into the surface.
• One rests in the upper left-hand corner.
• Another sits about a third of the way down on the right side.
• And one more is tucked away where you’ll have to hunt for it.
They’re small, easily missed, and intentionally placed, much like the mercies they represent.
There’s another detail that feels especially meaningful to me. When the final prayer requests were being added, a few people had accidentally written theirs on regular paper instead of the tracing paper. Rather than leaving those prayers out, I adhered them to the back of the wood panel.
And written praise reports that came in, stories of answered prayer and gratitude, I added those to the back as well.
So even the unseen parts of New Mercies are layered with prayer and thanksgiving. The front tells one story, but the back holds another, a quiet reminder that not all faithfulness is meant to be visible.
Waiting, Trusting, Becoming
There is something deeply moving to me about the way this piece unfolded. Nothing was rushed. Nothing was forced. Growth came in its own time.
That feels like a reflection of life itself — and of faith.
So often, we want the leaves without the waiting. The answers without the surrender. But New Mercies reminds me that even the bare seasons are not empty ones. They are preparing us for what’s coming.
The completed artwork stands as a testament to perseverance, communal prayer, and the promise that new mercies are revealed over time, sometimes quietly, sometimes unexpectedly, but always faithfully.
An Invitation
If you’re longing for more calm, more wonder, and more meaning woven into your everyday life, I hope this story encourages you to slow down and notice what’s already taking root.
Sometimes the most powerful transformations begin beneath the surface.
