Regeneration Trees #4

[This is a fourth in a photo series exploring human trafficking through the imagery of trees. For the previous images, click here.]

Flame flashed bright darkness, yielding barren isolation, that was wrapped around with some small and fragile hope, and then . . . 

. . . looking at a light that was broken, whose shade is rusted all around, I slip slightly and see light enter the top of my view finder. Chilly with dawn air, I was out to photograph a door with peeling paint. A door aged, unused, reworked over and over, but still an opening, still accessible, still available. I sought out an image of hope. Instead, I found something worth hoping for. More than a glimmer of possibility, the sun rose up and burst its light on those branches. Yes. Some lights go out. Some trees get cut down.  And. And some Light shines forth like new day. Some Life overcomes. Some hope testifies to things we can not see in the darkness. True things. Lovely things. Powerful things. 

Regeneration Trees #3

Previously in this series of Regeneration Trees, I have seen bright, flashy darkness; and I have seen barrenness opening itself to something slightly less dark; and then I saw this. 

This was a tree who could not stand the winds of a hurricane. It was broken, beaten, and bowed down with its upper branches touching the ground. It lay like that for some time. Bowed down, to what? The weight of its branches were too much, its bowed-down-ness had to be cut free. The sharpness of the blade that sliced its trunk and branches are evident in the splinters fraying from the base. A clean straight line that looks like death, it looks like an end, it looks like it has lost.  It is not just bowed down, it is taken. All but the very baseness of this tree is taken. A hint of the bright, flashy darkness is fallen beside it, the orange flame remains, not forgotten.


And wrapped around, a new root. So small, so insignificant by comparison. Wrapping all around. Reaching up. Reaching out. Taken down, emptied out, and wrapped around. New life springs forth. New hope extends itself, just barely above the line of death. Splinters of defeat are paralleled by twigs of hope, weak, small, fragile hope. It has a great trunk to overcome, the growing will not be without obstacles. It will not be without barriers. But it will be. Life will be again. It will be new. It will be renewed.


“A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him…” Isaiah 11: 1-2

Regeneration Trees #2

I recently shared the first in a series I'm calling "Regeneration Trees." More walks have revealed more images and more reflections. Here is image number two:

Not exclusive to victims of human trafficking, when we feel broken, we often feel incredibly isolated. I think of a young girl kidnapped from her home. Separated from her family. Subjected to a life that buries her in shame. She feels stripped of happiness. She feels robbed of support and comfort. The sky feels grey and ominous. Her heart feels barren and numb. 

The very strong ones can shift their perspective oh, so slightly. In our barrenness, our hopelessness, our isolation, sometimes we can sense that the cloudy, grey, ominous sky might have patches that are not quite so thick and dark. Not quite silver linings. Not quite hope. Just a little less grey. Even if we don't quite have the strength to really reach towards hope, we might tilt just enough so that we are open to it, should it deign to reign on us.

Regeneration Trees #1

I have a particular long distance friend, perhaps my friendship that crosses the longest distance. Bekah lives in Hong Kong. We were roommates for a year. After that year, she moved to Cairo and we have only seen each other one time since then. We don't stay in touch too frequently. To be honest, sometimes it hurts to have found a connection so deep in our souls and to have been so fully present with one another for a season and to have that bond stretched apart. We go about our lives impacted by one another but uninvolved in one another's day to day. But so it goes with friendships. To everything there is a season.


Bekah is a great many things. She is a biologist, wife, historian, mother, linguist, mother, prayer warrior. And she is perhaps most simply described as a woman of influence. We had one of these rare opportunities lately to reconnect when she was state-side. Our time zones aligned and a phone call was uniquely possible. She shared about a vision she has for raising support in the fight against human trafficking. She called on me to support her and participate in this vision. She wants to have an art auction to raise awareness and funds.


For this art auction, she, a gifted painter, wants to take slices out of tree trunks as canvases. The image she wishes to evoke is of the death and brokenness that comes to nature, and how nature, trees, are capable of regenerating life after fire or being cut down. Similarly, women broken through kidnapping, sex trafficking, dehumanizing oppression have hope for regeneration of their own broken lives. It is a unique body of imagery to explore in Hong Kong as this urban city center is not full of much greenery.


I on the other hand,  I effectively live in a forest. I am surrounded by trees. So she charged me to venture out, camera in hand, and to capture this somewhat vague idea through what the trees or the Spirit revealed to me.


How invigorating to have this artistic challenge. To have a visionary calling on my skill. Inspired, I saw the trees around me in a new way as I took my daily walks. What an interesting challenge in this season in particular. At a time when the trees seem to sparkle, and die, to be dormant for months. But I know and I can trust that they will come back to life, springing forth their enduring force once again. Those that do not will give way to life for others by making way for light to come through and nourishing the soil.


And so begins a series I would like to share with you, Lobsters, the "Regeneration Trees." I plan on this being an ongoing project, as her art show will not be for some time. So as I go along, I will share some of my images and reflections with you. As I do, if you are interested, here is a great site where you can learn more about human trafficking and what you can do about it: Not For Sale, started and lead by David Batstone, a fellow Westmont alumnus I had a chance to meet a few years back.


Here's Regeneration Trees shot #1:

With Bekah's prompt in mind, and my camera in hand, I came across this tree on a walk with Sofia. Even in their burst of color, I feel like these leaves look sad and droopy. I was struck by the idea of how women dragged through this torture are dressed up to dazzle, and yet, inside they are consumed by darkness.


Stay tuned for more.