Title: Outreach Director.

    Meaning: I get the pleasure of exploring Haiti, scouring local communities to discover indigenous churches who need help so I can connect them with MOH resources and teams while simultaneously connect the teams with MOH's vision to love and help the community.

    Umm, so I'm stoked.

    Several high schoolers from Norman, Oklahoma are having fun 30ft outside the window of ladies side of the new guest dome. Some ladies say through window, “Can you guys keep it down please?” They oblige but being as they are high schoolers, the noise level once again rises. Shortly after, two ladies in their traditional night gowns from Austin, Texas walk outside the front door around the building where these teenagers are positioned. They begin their onslaught with “ You guys have to move! MOVE RIGHT NOW!!!” They point their fingers direct and strong so there is no mistaking who they are calling “SOO rude”. The teenage boys, ingesting the bombardment of outrage, exchange curious looks. One of the ladies step forward, no undoubtedly squints her eyes, raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth, “Have you guys been drinking?!” Collin, 15 years old, has had enough. He gets out of his hammock, stands tall and responds, “Yeah..... COCA-COLA!!!!” The older ladies, physically taken aback, are uncharacteristically silent. Brandon, 18 years breathing, eyes wide and mouth agape says, “Are you serious?! We are on a mission trip in Haiti- how DARE you question my moral integrity like that- GOSH!” and with that Collin releases a new counter onslaught, one that makes people of the older kind in their anger state have blood that literally verges on boiling- laughter. You see, when an adult is in the process of scolding a younger person and the response is laughter, the adult not only feels disrespected but also experiences a lack of sense and belonging in the world. The grumbling older ladies walk back disgusted and discontent while the young teens throw back their cokes and recount the whole situation, just a little quieter than before.

We live with a cat that is affectionately known around these parts as “worst”. And that's an understatement. A list of accomplishments:

  1. The cat has, on multiple occasions, broken through the screen window because its too lazy to go through the front door thus allowing an open invitation AND entryway to the 5 trillion species of insects of Haiti to a bedside feast, courtesy of me.

  2. One of Cat's favorite games is called, “How many places can I poop besides the litter box?”

  3. The cat goes on wild excursions in the outside world only to bring back her findings as if we were even interested (this weeks examples: she waltzes in with a mouse in her mouth and takes it over to my dirty clothes pile AND Austin found her munching on a half eaten lizard {Haitian size, not American} our newly blood stained, complements to cat, front porch.)

  4. It has an abstinence problem or she just really likes being a mother, either way, we don't want any more kittens.

  5. Cats are supposed to be graceful but this cat is clumsy. Or reckless. Or spiteful. Just stop knocking over our stuff. Thanks.

  6. One time, true story, Jay heard her say something in English but now, upon further questioning, she pretends to not know any English... jerk...

So I will leave you with 6 reasons to ponder over why we feel this cat has more than earned her name “worst”. Other nicknames are welcomed.

From top to bottom:

Me and Vixama standing at the tombstone rock of a mass grave with over 100,000 bodies buried from the earthquake.

A hope house kid enjoying some rays at the beach.

Me getting swarmed by school munchkins.

Sunset over the horizon at MOH.