Fifteen years ago, two boys in Morocco stood at the edge of uncertain futures. Rabie, a teenager at The Annex, survived on grit, determination, and hustle. Wassim, a small boy at Le Nid, waited for something far more elusive - a family to call his own.
They came from the same place, but opportunity would shape their lives in very different ways.
Our journey into the Sahara began with messages from both of them.
Years ago, Rabie became our unofficial tour guide on a trip with my dad, helping us navigate daily life in Morocco. My dad admired his work ethic, resourcefulness, and determination so much that he told my mom that if he had been younger, he would have wanted to adopt him himself.
Today, Rabie supports himself selling fruits and vegetables from a cart in the market.
Their stories remain a powerful reminder that not every child begins life with the same chances.
Leaving Meknes, the birth city of our children, was harder than I expected. Part of my heart remained behind with Wassim. For fifteen years, I wondered what became of that little boy. Now that we’ve found each other again, I know he will always be part of our story.
Many of you have asked how to help. If you feel called to support Wassim and the children at Le Nid, you can do so here: https://gofund.me/e1b8dc9ac
As we left the city, the landscape shifted. We passed through Ifrane, often called the “Switzerland of Morocco,” where alpine-style homes, cedar forests, and cool mountain air make you wonder if you’ve somehow crossed into Europe.
In nearby Azrou, we saw Barbary macaques roaming freely through the cedar forests. Watching a father monkey protect his baby-mama and baby was a simple reminder that family, love, and belonging aren’t uniquely human needs.
From there, we crossed the Atlas Mountains, passed through Midelt, Morocco’s apple capital, and followed the breathtaking Ziz Valley, where ribbons of green cut through a rugged golden landscape.
Eventually we reached Merzouga, gateway to the Sahara. And wow…It was hot. Not “Florida in August” hot.
More like “step into a hairdryer” hot. Our guide cheerfully announced it was only 112 degrees. Later we climbed onto our “ships of the desert” - the camels.
The kids loved it. Matt and I may still be a little sore.
Then came one of those moments that makes the world feel remarkably small.
In the middle of the Sahara, riding camels across the dunes en route to our tents, we met a Mayo Clinic doctor and his family from our hometown of Ponte Vedra Beach.
Thousands of miles from home, surrounded by sand in every direction, you read that right we ran into neighbors whose daughters graduated from the same high school Maddie and Charlie attend. What are the odds?
Travel constantly reminds us that the world is both vast and yet so deeply connected.
We rode across golden dunes to our desert camp, where we enjoyed tagines beneath the stars and listened to the hypnotic rhythms of Gnawa music, a centuries-old tradition rooted in West African spiritual heritage.
Watching Maddie and Charlie laughing, drumming, dancing, and making music in the middle of the Sahara was pure joy. Moments like that make every delayed flight, lost suitcase, and wrong turn worth it.
Yet even surrounded by such beauty, my thoughts kept returning to Le Nid. To the babies. To Wassim. To Rabie.
Would they ever know the feeling of family and sense of belonging?
Or would they grow up wondering, as Wassim did, whether they were lovable and would ever be chosen?
As a parent, it’s impossible not to think about the mothers who made the heartbreaking decision to entrust their children to others. Yet faith reminds us that even when we cannot see the path, there is still purpose in the journey.
Travel has a way of teaching that lesson. It stretches our perspective, reminds us how much we have, and reveals how similar our deepest hopes are: to be loved, to belong, and to create a better future for those who come after us.
As I watched Maddie and Charlie experience the Sahara, I felt grateful to my parents for teaching me to see the world - not from a resort, but through the eyes of the people who call it home. I love you, Mom!
The desert was magnificent.
The memories unforgettable.
But the people of Morocco remain the most beautiful part of this journey.
Next stop: Todra Gorge and the UNESCO World Heritage site of AĂŻt Ben Haddou.
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