The United Kingdom's Royal Mint unveiled their much-anticipated new coin designs, the first redesign since 1968 (thanks for the heads-up, Charlie). The Mint opened a public contest in 2003 and generated an unprecedented 4,000 entries ranging from amateur enthusiasts to professional coin engravers.

Matthew Dent, a twenty-six-year-old designer from Wales, took the contest by storm. Committee members, including Andrew Stafford, director of the Mint, were singing his praises today in the release announcement:

Matthew has taken something that relates to the fabric of Britain in a very real sense, and given a contemporary look and feel to them... he's kept the heritage in the symbols, introduced modernity into the design, and avoided anything fashionable and flippant that might lose some of the gravitas that people have come to associate with British coinage.

One of the more remarkable things about Matthew's design is the way he incorporated the heraldic symbols (central to the theme of British coinage for centuries), specifically the Royal Coat of Arms. "The analogy I always try to use is that it is like a jigsaw," he explains. "The different elements of the shield of the Royal Arms which appear on the coins, once arranged, form the complete shield." Together, the new collection also symbolizes the tribes that joined to create the United Kingdom.

My favorite new coin is the five pence, that sits right at the crux of the Royal Arms, where you can see details from all four quadrants: the lions, the harp, and the fleur de lis border. It's a really fantastic example of honoring the rich tradition of currency while opening a new chapter for a little piece of art that fits in your pocket.

The People and The Trash Dump.

People and trash don't go together. And yet, in the city dump of Managua where they are inextricably attached, a bright hope abounds. This is a new two-part series produced by Aquafluence for Love Light & Melody.

I've just returned from an exhausting and wonderful trip to Nicaragua with my LL&M family, my second trip to visit my friends in the trash dump community over the past year. I can't wait to go back. But my body would beg to differ. A week of burning toxic fumes and I've been wrestled to my knees. My throat is raw, my head pounds, and my lungs scream for air. I'm surely on the mend (that's what the world-class doctor, high-dose prescription, and 24-hour pharmacy tell me)... but what of the beautiful families who live there every day? What keeps them smiling?

During my first trip, I wrote feverishly in my journal each day, wanting to preserve the intimate details and emotional turmoil:

"You turn the corner and are greeted with what seems like a backroad entrance to hell, or the extent of a volcano's debris strewn across the path of what surely was once a proper street. Smoke is everywhere. Trash and plastic is in every direction. And, unthinkably, people are here. My heart is still not ready to accept what my eyes see. All whelms up inside me, reducing me to silent tears."

I filled every inch of that journal, barely squeezing in the final reflections as my plane ascended into the clouds. And for seven months, my heart stayed there until I could return to it again. This time I was surrounded by family from around the world to celebrate Dia De Luz, a day of joy, color, music, and laughter. My buddy Brad explains:

Why would you go into a trash dump? Why would you bring people into a place where there's no life? There has to be one thing that lasts through all that stuff. It's what we have in us: it's light. When we love people just for the sake of love, light comes out of us."

If there's any way we should be living, this is it. From sunrise to sunset, we flew kites, we painted a mural, we helped collect recycling, we danced and sang... and we walked arm-in-arm with our precious brothers and sisters.

This time I've come away with something less tangible than a journal. While the soot in my lungs is quite real, I've left a part of my heart that's deeper under the surface and an unspoken love. A deafening silence and a peaceful chaos. Here I remain.

This week, I had the incredible priviledge of speaking at Saint Joseph's University to three hundred college kids getting ready to spend their spring break in the Appalachian Mountains. The students will venture into one of ten towns in West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia as part of an immersion program, where they get to lend a helping hand and experience life in these rural communities. As it turns out, one of the newest sites for this year's service project is my hometown: Pulaski, Virginia.

So when SJU asked me to come speak about growing up in Appalachia, I turned to my photos, letters from home, and a few good reads for inspiration. Ultimately, I came away with four major topics: mountains, hometown, family, and mission. Each holds a special place in my heart...

• Mountains: environment defines Virginia. The mountains and rivers influence everything in our state, from train routes and farming to folk art and bluegrass music.
• Hometown: community defines Pulaski. While not a mining town, Pulaski shares an important part in the history of coal that still impacts school, church, recreation, and neighborhood life.
• Family: values define the Booker Family. I am who I am today because of Mom, Dad, and my brother David!
• Mission: service defines me. From rural Virginia to Camden, NJ, New York City, and Nicaragua, I'm passionate about walking alongside people in need (and you should be too!).

I wanted to provide my slides and notes, especially for my friends at SJU, so you can enjoy the photos and stories I shared in my presentation.

Download the slides (14mb PDF)

Thanks to Matt, Mary, Jeff, and everyone at St. Joe's for welcoming me into your community. Can't wait to hear about the Appalachian experience this year! Thanks to Cheri, Pam, and Kathy for helping me prepare for the talk. And special thanks to Mom for helping me track down some old photos.