The boys are home and I am pretty sure Nash is about 10 years older than when he left! He walked in the door full of joy and filled with confidence. PRECIOUS!!! Listening to him share (in GREAT detail) about all he saw, smelled, touched, tasted, played, etc. in Nica was one of the top 5 “Proudest mom moments” of my life. My heart was on the verge of exploding with giddiness as he pointed to different spots on the map where he and his daddy went and told me about his favorite parts of the trip. I don’t think Nash came up for air from the moment he walked in the house! He went on and on about all the places they went, people they met, things they ate, details about the “hotel”, plane ride (and his “wings” he received on the flight). I am so so grateful that he seems to have soaked in everything on the trip. It also appears that he soaked in some dirt since I don’t think he bathed even once (freezing cold showers = no showers for a 4 year old apparently!). So after a proper scrub in the tub (btw, he still smells like charcoal), a late dinner, and more chatter, he is finally fast asleep in his own bed. It’s good to have everyone home and under one roof. We will be processing this trip for some time, but I am so so grateful to Bryson for taking Nash and making this experience a priority. I think it has forever shaped Nash’s heart…

the "hotel"

At the market.

Nash's friend Kathryn. She's ten. He's 4. They are about the same height!

hanging out...

playing with Kathryn...

Nash and the kids.

ice cream.

The fellas

silly

Nash said he found a "waffle place in Nicaragua"... Here is the proof.

outside a cafe they frequented. Doesn't he look about 18 here?? He's growing up. sniff sniff.

Headed home. Doesn't take long to adjust back to 1st world.

Nash having fun with his new friends. (The mom side of me is freaking out at how dirty he is!! Ahh!!) Bryson said Nash never even noticed one of the kids didn't even have clothes on!

I got this email from Bryson this morning…

“Had church service/bible study this morning.
Went to the trash dump.
Ate lunch with missionary family.
Went to play with kids in bario.
Swimming and snack.
Headed to dinner.
God is good.
Ready to come home tomorrow.
Hopefully nash will get to play with his new friend (Kathryn) in the morning. He was very sad she was not there today she was at her grandmas house all day .
Can’t wait to kiss your face.”

I spoke with them this morning and they are doing great. I can not wait to hear all the stories. Bryson said yesterday they played soccer with a bunch a kids by the water and ended up going into town to buy them a real soccer ball. Then Nash asked if they could buy all the kids popsicles, too…

popsicles and new friends!

I think it’s been an awesome experience for Bryson and Nash and I am grateful for the memories that will spur on conversations for a very long time.

Evyn misses Nash so much. She has been awesome this week playing by herself and just being sweet and happy, but at morning and at night (because they share a room) she cries for Nash. Last night she asked to watch a “video of Nash talking”. She giggled and tries talking back to him on the viewo. Then this morning Nash called and the first thing he asked was for me to hand the phone to Evyn so he could talk to her. I’m glad they miss each other! Picking them up tonight! Excited to see my fellas…and kiss Bryson’s face.

Cool kid.

Today is my birthday — but I’ll write more about that tomorrow. A more urgent and exciting update is that Nash and Bryson flew to Nicaragua this morning for a Father/Son trip! This was Nash’s first international trip and he was beyond excited to break in his passport and get a stamp! It is pretty thrilling to get your first stamp in your passport! I was in High School when I got mine — I’ll never forget that! Nash was ready to combust with excitement this morning but was carrying himself like such a big confident kid! I was proud of him as I dropped them off at the airport. I can not wait to hear how their first day went  – and how Nash liked using his travel toothbrush! He is a four 1/2 year-old, after all! It’s the little things!

So why Nicaragua?

It is a desire and hope/dream of ours as parents to raise little people who love the world — and what better way to get them to love the world than show them the world? Some may call us crazy…heck, maybe we are. But I am thrilled that Nash is getting to experience a third world country with his daddy at such a young age so there will never be a time that he doesn’t remember traveling or experiencing new cultures. He sees me and Bryson going places all the time and wants to be a part of what we do, so this is a great first step. I only wish I could have gone with them! (especially since it’s my birthday! sigh.)

There were two simple objectives for this Father/Son trip: That Nash would…

1. TOUCH, SMELL and SEE extreme poverty.
2. Make a friend with a child his age from Nicaragua.
3. Have fun. (Okay, that’ 3 objectives — I added that so it didn’t seem so serious. They will have fun!)

Nash was SO excited when I dropped them off at the airport this morning...

Checking in...

Liesure reading on the flight...

Nash on the plane video…

This post is for anyone who has left home. I don’t mean to go to the grocery store or even for vacation. This is for folks who have packed their possessions, hugged their mammas and daddies, and pulled away from the curb with their cheeks wet and their eyes on the road because if they glance in the rearview mirror, they might not go. It’s for those who bookmark their hometown newspapers and like their native accents. It’s for the homesick, the diehards, people who would charter a plane or ride a mule, whatever it takes to go home at the holidays. This post is a love letter like no other. It comes from Jason Headley, today’s guest blogger.

Dear West Virginia,

I suppose this has been a long time coming. Looking back, it must have seemed abrupt. Twenty-two years we spent together, then I up and left with no real explanation. I probably owed you more than that. So I’ll try my best to explain it to you now.

We were perfect together at first, weren’t we? As a boy, I couldn’t have asked for a better playmate. Your hills and trees, your railroad tracks, rivers, and run-down factories. You could have killed me a dozen times, at least. I seemed to be asking for it. I was rough on you, but you gave as good as you got. My blood in your soil, your splinters and gravel under my skin. This is how we did it, becoming more and more of one another every single day.

I drew your initials in my notebooks in the sharp angles of the university logo. They weren’t just letters. They were you. I wore blue and gold, but those weren’t your only colors. You were green and white, too. Just like my Paden City Wildcats. You were orange and yellow and red, your hillsides alight with fire every autumn. You were the purple of the Ohio River, the sun’s last rays drawn deep. You were black, a night sky as endless as my imagination.

You were everything to me. My mom and my dad. My brother and my grandparents. My home and my school. All of my very first firsts. It was perfect while it lasted.

I wish I could tell you when things changed. That I could point to one moment. Maybe the first time I saw the ocean, standing there with my pant legs hiked to my knees, staring at the end of the earth. Maybe it was something I saw on television: a bionic man, a talking car, a chimpanzee sidekick, a girl in her underwear. Maybe it was the books, one of the stories that seemed so wild and strange and far beyond anything I could ever imagine happening while surrounded by the steadfastness of you.

That might be part of it. I knew, as sure as I knew anything, that you were never going to change. You’d spent lifetimes building mountains from flat, solid ground. You’d grown forests, had them taken from you, and grown them again. You were strong, stalwart, and set in the ways that worked for you. But I slowly began to realize they wouldn’t work for me.

I can’t actually think of a time beyond boyhood when I thought I was going to stay. It’s strange. Ungrateful, I suppose. You were the only thing I knew and somehow you weren’t enough. But my interests and ambitions grew beyond any realistic expectations. Far beyond the reach of your panhandles. And I suppose that changes a relationship forever.

The question is, did I begin to stand out because I knew I was going to leave? Or did I know I was going to leave because I was beginning to stand out? I fished your streams, but with little frequency and even less success. Friends and family stalked your forests for hours in the hope of bringing home deer, quail, squirrel. The interest never took with me. But there were bigger things. Ideals I didn’t recognize, some old-fashioned, some simply old. Disagreement with common-held beliefs. Those I saw as wrong-headed, and those I knew were just plain wrong. All of that combined to leave me somewhere in between. There, but not.

I know your state bird, your state flower, your state tree, your state animal. I know your state fish, for crying out loud. Every fiber of my being was forged, formed, and intricately woven by the experience of growing up with you: my basic values, my ingrained suspicions, my belief that good things can always happen to you, but don’t hold your breath.

You see, I’ve never had a problem being from West Virginia. I just had some difficulty being in West Virginia.

Still, now, the places we knew together are like songs to me. Just the names bring a flood of memories: Dolly Sods, Canaan Valley, Oil Ridge, Buck Run, Bickles Knob. And then the places that had no real title: the rope swing on the north end of town, the outfield of the far baseball diamond, the attic of my best friend’s house, and, of course, the few square feet of my bedroom. I papered those walls with dreams. That town. I sought your best places and poured endless meaning into some of your most ordinary corners. I did all of this, day after day, for over eight thousand days. And then, one day, it was time to go.

You probably didn’t see it, because my back was to you as I drove, but I cried when I left. And not just because I was in Kentucky. I cried because I missed you already. I cried because I’d never been away from you for longer than two weeks. I cried because I was afraid. Because if I wasn’t a West Virginian, then what was I?

I had a tape recorder on the front seat to capture thoughts as I drove, alone, toward a new life. This is what I said as I left you behind: “If California is half as good to me as West Virginia has been, I’m going to be in pretty good shape.”

And I was right. But a dozen years here has taught me just how wrong I was about something else. I never stopped being a West Virginian. There are some things that can’t be undone. Not by all the gods in all the heavens. Geography be damned.

The other day someone wrote to me and said, “I’ll be coming to your state next week.” And I thought, “I wonder why he’s going to West Virginia?” He wasn’t. He was coming to California. But I still, in my marrow, think of you as “my state.” I only hope you still think of me as your son.

I have grandparents and great-grandparents buried in your ground. I have family living in the curves of your hills. I have pieces of me scattered all across your land. And I have the best parts of you locked here in my heart.

Maybe that’s not enough. Maybe all these words can never explain away what I did. Maybe abandonment is too great a sin to be absolved. Maybe. But I like to think not.

I like to think all your countless years have given you unbridled understanding, the likes of which I’ll never understand. That on a cold autumn night when the air smells like burning leaves and small town football, you miss me a little, too. I like to think that when I come home, you’re as happy to see me as I am you. And that the few days we get to spend together each year are like a gift, a time machine. Proof that old friends never fade.

That’s what I like to think.

Forever yours, Jason. (Orginial post found here)

We just updated the 268generation.com with more details about the $3.3 Million that students gave for FREEDOM. Also on this page is the film about slavery that we showed at the gathering. Check it out and be inspired. The college generation is leading the way…

PASSION 2012 FREEDOM MOVEMENT

Here is a quick run down::

• 42,000 college students
• over $3 million raised for FREEDOM (fighting to end human slavery!)
• Louie Giglio, Chris Tomlin, Beth Moore, John Piper, Lecrae, David Crowder, Hillsong United, Francis Chan, Christine Cain, Matt Redman, Charlie Hall, Kristian Stanfill
• JESUS.
• A generation united.

CNN did a piece on the Passion 2012 Do Something Now Freedom initiative….I must say, my husband looks quite handsome in this video! Check it out!

Here is the video article from CNN.com Freedom Project

May our days be filled with more compassion and less consumption, more gratefulness and less gripe, more laughter and less stress, and mostly…more Jesus and less of everything else.

**I’ll be back posting more after January 6th! We are headed to the DOME for Passion 2012. Join us on the journey…we treasure your prayers as 40,000+ students will gather to bring glory to Jesus. Incredible days ahead…

Grateful for my in-laws and the way they care for, love, and serve us. We couldn’t do what we do at Passion without their help in this crazy busy season! Grateful!