Print Details:

• Museum-quality posters made on thick, durable, matte paper.

• Paper is archival and acid-free.

• Unframed prints arrive rolled up in a protective tube.

Frame Details:

• Alder, Semi-hardwood frame

• Black in color

• .75” thick

• Acrylite front protector

• Lightweight

• Hanging hardware included

• Made in the USA

From the Artist:

“‘You will never wash my feet.’
‘If I don’t wash your feet, what share will you have with me?’”
(John 13:8)

The first time my dad took me to visit her in the hospital, I walked in to find a slouched figure sunken below a bundle of blankets. Short brown hairs collected in clumps along her shoulders and pillowcase. A cotton beanie grasped the edges of her yellowing, swollen face. I averted my eyes at the sight, tricked by cancer’s devouring disguise. Pale walls drained the room of energy; even the blue curtains in the window drooped lethargically against the wall. As we came close, my mother’s shrunken torso grew, her familiar, honey-rich voice filled like liquid in my ears. 

“Take off your shoes. Let me rub your feet.”
I paused. Death pressed in on us like an unrelenting fog. I was scared, unsure of how to play daughter to a mother whose life was slowly slipping away.

“Let me rub your feet.”
Reluctantly, I climbed up onto the hospital bed. Reaching through the blanketed layers, she removed my shoes, the sweat from my middle school basketball practice still lingering on my skin. Without hesitation, she peeled off my socks and gently massaged away the anxieties building within the room.

In the face of the cancer that would soon take her, my mother was determined to hold us close. In the fading and fullness of life, she savored moments of service to others. Her gentleness continues to startle and soothe me.

“You, too, must wash each other’s feet.”
(John 13:14)

—Lisle Gwynn Garrity