52 Years in the Air and Still Rising
This April, Deb and I celebrated our 52nd wedding anniversary with something we’ve never done before: a hot air balloon ride. Just before sunrise, we found ourselves in the middle of the desert, bundled up against the chill, surrounded by strangers who quickly started to feel like friends. The balloon inflated slowly at first, then roared to life with a burst of flame, and before we knew it, we were floating.
There’s something sacred about rising off the ground like that. The world gets quiet. You stop hearing your own to-do list. You start remembering what matters most. I looked over at Deb, the same smile I fell in love with half a century ago, and thought, “We’ve lived a lot of life together.” And yet somehow, it still feels like we’re just getting started.
Moments like these don’t just happen. They’re built. One quiet act of kindness at a time. One honest conversation. I don’t have a formula for marriage, but I know it takes humility, laughter, and a whole lot of grace. You have to choose love on the days it feels easy and on the days it doesn’t. God has been faithful in the midst of it all.
Sometimes whispering. Sometimes holding us through the storm. Now, at this stage of life, I find myself thinking more about legacy than goals. What kind of love will our kids remember? What stories will they pass on to their children? I hope they say, “They weren’t perfect, but they were present. And they loved each other well.” Thanks for letting me share this moment with you. Maybe it’s not about flying high. Maybe it’s about staying grounded in the kind of love that lifts each other up.
A Legacy That Still Gathers Us
This photo is from 1952, the day my mom and dad got married. They were young, hopeful, and probably had no idea what kind of legacy they were beginning to build.
My dad has since passed, but my mom is still with us; she is in her 95th year as I publish this. She’s the matriarch of a growing, scattered, but still deeply connected family. Four boys. A tribe of grand-kids. And now, close to 60 or 70 people when we all gather, which we try to do as often as we can.
What she’s passed down isn’t just stories or old photos but a deep sense that family matters. That love holds. That gathering around a kitchen table or under one roof is something sacred. She loves her daughters-in-law like her own. She asks about everyone by name. She prays for us, and I believe that’s held more of us together than we will ever realize. Her life has reminded us that marriage isn’t just a moment; it’s a commitment that echoes across generations. And that kind of love? It never goes out of style
A Family Groundbreaking
This picture means more than I can probably put into words. It was taken during the groundbreaking celebration for Shade Tree Academy, one of the newest chapters in our journey with ASA Now. What makes it extra special is who’s around that "kitchen" table: my son, my daughter, their spouses, and a few other close friends. These are the people who’ve walked with us, cheered us on, and shown up when it mattered. To have them with us that day, sharing food, laughter, and a few stories as the sun went down, was a reminder of what we’re building. Yes, we were celebrating a school, one designed to care for and educate children impacted by foster care. But we were also celebrating what happens when family becomes more than blood. When it becomes a mission. When it becomes a community. When generations gather not just to look back but to invest in what’s ahead. That’s the kind of legacy we’re after. Not a name on a building, but love in action. Brick by brick, table by table, life by life
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