Loving Our Neighbor Means Showing Up
This is a photo of some of the folks we consider neighbors, maybe even family. We may not share blood, but we share something deeper—love, friendship, and a calling to be there for one another. That’s always been enough to call someone family. These women are the Founders of ASA Now, a nonprofit that wraps its arms around foster kids in Arizona. These kids have seen or have been through more than most of us will experience in a lifetime. The ASA Now Ladies lead with compassion, resilience, and a lot of grit. And I have had the privilege of walking alongside them for many years now.
Back in 2017, we helped them acquire what’s now known as Jacob’s Mission Community Center. Since then, what started as a small idea, a big dream, has grown into a life mission for them, with very tangible results. Go to ASANow.org to see the evolution & maybe join the full movement. Their programs now serve thousands of children and families impacted by foster care. That growth hasn’t been about numbers—it’s been about need. About listening. About showing up, again and again, even when the road is long.
In our home, we’ve always said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And these friends live that every single day. So, we treat them like family. Because in God’s economy, those who care for the least of these are building a kingdom that lasts. You can read more about their work at ASANow.org.
Who Is Your Neighbor
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” The second is this: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” There is no other commandment greater than these.”
— Mark 12:30–31 (ESV)
If you’ve spent any time in the Gospels, you know Jesus didn’t just speak in commandments—He lived them. He told stories like the Good Samaritan, where “neighbor” wasn’t defined by proximity, bloodline, or background. It was defined by compassion. By presence. By showing up when it mattered most. So when I think about the thousands of children in foster care across our country—kids without stable homes, without someone to tuck them in or cheer for them at their game—I hear Jesus asking again:
“Who is your neighbor? ”
The answer is right in front of us.
Every Child Deserves a Place to Belong
Every child should grow up with the care and protection of a family.”
— ASA Now
That’s why we support the work of ASA Now—an organization dedicated to serving children impacted by foster care. They’re not just handing out pamphlets. They’re showing up. They’re advocating. They’re building spaces like Jacob’s Mission Community Center and Shade Tree Academy so these kids have more than a system—they have a community. This work matters deeply to us. Because it’s not just about policy or charity. It’s about living out the greatest commandment:
Love God. Love people.
Especially the ones society tends to overlook, and even more so when you have the resources to do so...
Friends, Neighbors, and the People Who Helped Us Build
Some people come into your life and change everything—not just by what they do, but by how they love. That’s what these photos represent.
This was a groundbreaking ceremony for Shade Tree Academy, a school designed to serve children impacted by foster care. Standing here with me are the three women who helped make all of this happen. Alongside them is my son, the one who first introduced me to ASA Now, and another gentleman who stood shoulder to shoulder with us as we began this work.
We didn’t do this alone. We did it together. As friends. As a family. As neighbors. Collectively, God has provided millions of dollars toward this effort, not just to build a school but to build a future for kids who need it most. And every brick, every classroom, every square foot of this place is rooted in a shared belief that every child deserves the care, protection, and opportunity of a family.
That’s what ASA Now is about. That’s what Shade Tree Academy stands for. And that’s why we’ll keep showing up. Because when Jesus says, “Love your neighbor as yourself,”—this is what that looks like.
Riding Through the Rockies
When I turned fifty, my wife gave me a motorcycle for my birthday. Not just a gift—but a green light to go explore. We decided to travel with some dear friends, and this photo was taken during one of those unforgettable trips through the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
Over the course of a couple of weeks, we rode together across some of the most breathtaking terrain I’ve ever seen. We traveled over several 14,000-foot peaks, soaked in the fresh air, and shared a lot of laughs under that wide blue sky.
Looking back, this trip stands out as one of the real joys of the last twenty years. There’s something about traveling with friends that slows time down and makes the memories stick. You get to share the beauty of creation, the thrill of the open road, and the kind of conversation you can’t rush. And I believe that’s part of what life is really about: finding people to ride with, and making the most of the journey together.
And here they are—our travel crew. These are the friends we rode with through the Rocky Mountains. More than just fellow riders, they’re people we’ve done life with. People who know how to take a deep breath, pack light, and lean into the beauty of the ride.
Over the years and in different groups, we have covered thousands of miles together. Talked about everything and nothing. Shared meals, missed turns, and saw sunsets that stopped us in our tracks. That trip didn’t just give us photos—it gave us memories stitched together with chrome, conversation, and trust.
Over the years, we’ve all had our own roads to travel—some smooth, some full of potholes. But the gift of friendship is knowing there’s always someone just ahead or right behind, watching your back.
Life’s better with people like this. People who make the journey worth taking, and the stories worth retelling
A Glacier Called Debbie
This was one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of trips.
We were in Alaska, up in Denali, where the air feels ancient and the landscape God created makes you feel small in the best possible way. We took a helicopter up to this spot—the Debbie Glacier—and landed right on the ice.
You can see the glacial creek winding around us. We actually drank from it—ice-cold, crystal-clear water straight from creation. And yes, I’ve got a picture of Deb doing just that. It’s a moment frozen in time, in more ways than one.
This trip came shortly after the heartache and pause of COVID. Like so many others, we had felt the isolation, the uncertainty. But standing there with close friends, surrounded by snowfields and sky, it felt like life was opening back up. Hope returned. There’s something sacred about a place untouched by time and something healing about experiencing it together.
Kayaking Through the Chilean Andes
This was just the two of us—Deb and I, paddling across a cold, still lake tucked into the Andes Mountains of Chile. It was quiet. Remote. Raw. And wrapped in a kind of fog that felt both mysterious and sacred.
We weren’t totally alone on the trip—we traveled with two sets of dear friends, one of whom we’ve known for over 40 years. Together, we spent time in Santiago, explored Valle Paraíso, and soaked in the rich culture of a region that feels like the end of the world in the best possible way.
After our time on the water, we boarded a cruise around the tip of South America, sailing past the Falkland Islands, eventually landing in Argentina on the very day they were celebrating their World Cup victory. It was unforgettable—like stepping into someone else’s story for a little while. Five million people triumphant soccer fans invaded Buenos Aires Argentina, the city we visited. We got to experience their culture right up close, through the joy of their victory.
But back to this moment, in the kayak, was ours. A quiet place in the wild, high in the Andes. A reminder that the world is wide, and there’s still so much beauty to find—especially when you have someone you love sitting behind you in the boat, in His majestic creation.
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