My journey to Africa...the long version

For as long as I can remember, there's been a certain tug on my heart from the far away land of Africa. It has definitely had its different reasons over the years but the tug has always been there, nonetheless. Growing up in the 80's I got to be a child in a generation of young people who watched those awful commercials of the little pot-bellied African children sitting in the dirt with flies swarming their faces. I remember as a very young girl feeling a little bit helpless. I don't think I was old enough to feel guilty - but I do have a very clear memory of seeing one of these commercials while I was making myself a very generous glass of chocolate milk and knowing that something about this scenario was unfair. I wanted to give that little starving girl my chocolate milk because I knew that I didn't need it. I was probably 5 years old.

Growing up, my dad was always very intentional about exposing my brother and me to the reality of the world just outside of our little privileged bubble. I'm grateful for where and how I grew up and I wouldn't change a thing about it - but I'm even more grateful to my parents, who were constantly reminding us how lucky we were by exposing us to those less fortunate and reminding us to never take for granted all that we had. My dad used to take me to pre-school every day. And every day, as we would cross over the Cooper River and into Charleston he would say, 'look at that, Pooh. We live in the most beautiful city in the world. We need to thank God that we get to live here.' Often, just as we came off the bridge, we would pass through a section of town that was nothing like our neighborhood. It was dirty. There were dilapidated houses and disheveld people wandering about. Without fail, every morning there would be a group of men sitting on a wall just around the corner from my school. My dad and I would wave to them every morning. I would roll down my window and stick half of my body out of the car to greet these guys. Sometimes, if we had enough time, we'd stop and buy them donuts. Looking back, I realize what my dad did for me. He treated those guys with the same respect that he did the businessmen on Broad Street. I thought those guys were our friends. It wasn't until many years later that I learned that they were homeless and most mornings, extremely intoxicated (which explained why they were so animated). But to me, they were a highlight of my day and I was always disappointed if they were not there. I'm beyond grateful that my dad taught me at a very young age to look people in the eye, shake their hand, and accept them regardless of their shape, size, color, status, etc.

In 1985, the most AMAZING thing happened. USA for Africa. Remember it?? Here, let me refresh your memory:

I was 7 and certain that this was going to solve all the worlds problems. Even though it didn't, what it did accomplish was solidify in a 7 year old little girls heart that someday she would visit Africa. 

Well, if you thought 1985 was a good year...just wait for it. In 1986, I held hands with America. Who remembers that?? It was, in my 8 year old mind, the smartest and coolest thing ever thought up. 

'Hands Across America' was a terrific idea and I was all in. I even got a tshirt. I remember thinking we were gonna change the world. Plus, there was no way I was missing the potential chance of holding hands with Kenny Rogers or c3po. (you have to watch the video for that to make sense). Anyway, my dad took me (and I suppose my mom and brother) up to the east side of town and we joined hands with the African American community (which, I'm sad to say, was a little abnormal for where we grew up and the way we grew up) and GET THIS...we sang 'We Are the World.' I was so fired up. I was holding hands with a young man from Africa. I remember thinking his accent was so cool. I remember looking up at him as he passionately sang 'there are people dying' with tears streaming down his face and knowing that our lives were very different. While still very young and not completely able to grasp the reality of just how privileged my life was compared to most of the world, I had a knowing deep within that I wanted to understand this man's life and where he came from. 

Then I met Jama. I'm not sure exactly when we first met - probably 1988 or 1989. Jama Aden was a young Somalian and a member of the Somali Olympic track and field team. Through some simply amazing opportunities, my family was able to form relationships with Olympic runners from all over the world. But Jama was my favorite. Recently, I watched the movie 'Captain Phillips' about the pirated American cargo ship off the coast of Somalia. I couldn't help but think of Jama. I couldn't help but think about how his sport most likely rescued him from situations very similar to those portrayed in the movie. Jama was one of the lucky ones and he knew it. As a 10 year old girl, with no ability to comprehend what it was like to grow up the way Jama did, his stories moved me. They touched my heart in a way that changed me.

In 1994, well...

sorry, I had to do it. That was just a little comic relief. :)

Anyway, fast forward to 2003. I heard about this little blonde lady from California who was living in Mozambique and seeing miracles happen every day. Blind eyes were opening, deaf ears were hearing, dead people were being raised, multitudes were being fed from just a few plates of food. And she was saying all she was doing was loving them. Her approach was simple. Love God, love others. (sounds familiar, huh?). Anyway, her name was (and is) Heidi Baker and she is without a doubt, one of my heroes...

The more I heard about Mozambique and Heidi, the more I wanted to go there. It's been a dream in my heart for 11 years now to visit Mozambique and join in on what God is doing in that place. FINALLY, the time has come. I have the amazing opportunity to travel to Africa this July and fulfill a lifelong dream. I will be traveling with an organization called Global Awakening and our plan is to spend 10 days in Africa serving the poorest of the poor. We will serve food to thousands of street kids, we will pray for the sick, we will comfort those who are suffering, we will spend a night in tents in the bush to share the love of Jesus to unreached tribes, we will give the love that has been so lavishly poured out on us by our Heavenly Father. It will be amazing, heart wrenching, hard, wonderful, and everything in between. I know it will stretch me beyond what I think is possible. I will not be the same if and when I come back. (just kidding, mom and dad, I'm coming back). I can't wait. 

I do need your help. Most importantly, I need your prayers. It's not totally unsafe, but it is also nothing like 22 Council Street (my childhood address). My personal safety, my health, finances, etc rest secure in God's hands. 'He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.' I am fully confident that everything I need for this trip will be provided in some way or another. I probably need about $5000 for this trip. If you would like to help, I would be so grateful. 

There are a number of ways you can give:

1. through my GoFundMe page - this is very easy and you can make payments via credit card (I also update it frequently with info about the trip, videos, pictures...)
2. through PayPal - Pay Pal is a quick and easy way to send money. My user name is lizbailey1978@gmail.com (just make sure that you select the 'I am sending money to friends/family' option - otherwise, there is a fee)
3. if you would like to send a check, simply make it out to me, earmark it 'Liz - Soul Safari' and mail it to me: 12296 Water Tupelo Road/Jacksonville, FL/32226

I am so excited to share this experience with all of you. I am told that we will have very limited access to internet so I probably won't be able to communicate much while I'm there, but I will be sure to update you as much as I can and for sure when I return to the states. If you would like to be on the email list to receive these updates, simply email me at lizbailey1978@gmail.com. 

I love you all - thank you so much for your love and support.