Ten days ago I was bouncing around in the back of a modern covered wagon and playing rodeo clown while my team rendered medical aid to a victim of sexual assault.
Saturday I was debugging computer code in a device thousands of miles away while a host of people sat on the telephone line waiting for me to work my magic.
I get paid well to do both jobs. The first one pays off in spiritual satisfaction. The second pays off in dollars and intellectual satisfaction.
Sitting at my desk the differences between the two worlds I’ve inhabited in the space of ten days hits me pretty hard. I find myself comfortable in both worlds, but wondering where God needs me to be the most.
I’m working on that answer. For the time being, I will continue to make mission trips and do my best when the 9-5 job lets me escape. I will gladly come back to my comfortable cube, coffee cup, and warm home. I will also relish the unheated showers and the smiles of orphans that Haiti gives me.
I’m a pretty happy person a lot of the time. The ogre within me doesn’t come out as much as it used to do in the old days. But mess with my people and he’s right there: bad guy to tangle with in my opinion.
Papa Noel, the one the kids see, is a pretty likeable sort. He’s the guy holding the human eating machine in the picture. (Honest. That kid could eat me out of house and home given the chance. He put away twice the calories I did at the beach.He’s frowning because he’s not eating.) He loves the adventure and time spent with the children.
Today it’s the world of computers. Tomorrow? I’ll let God decide that one.
Either way, I’m good to go.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
Take a moment, please, and reflect on the last selfless thing that you did for someone. Can’t remember, eh? Probably humble. Or down on yourself and forgot on purpose. Possibly, but unlikely, you’ve never done anything selfless. I hope that isn’t the case. But if it is, read on and find out how one of those moments reduced me to tears twice in four hours.Two years after I’d performed that selfless act that meant very little to me but a great deal to others.
It is my preference not to toot my own horn on charity. My exception is when it will encourage others to do the right thing. Today’s story is specifically targeted at those of you who do acts of charity, kindness, and grace without giving it a thought. Most of you don’t tell others about it – something about praying in closets versus on the street corner.
Two years ago my friend asked me to voice over a video he was working on about a Haitian Initiatve soccer team that was coming to Blaine, Minnesota to play in the Schwann’s Cup soccer event.
The script shows up in my email a few minutes later, and by then I’ve set up my microphone, powered the amp, and booted the computer. A couple of quick revisions to the script are done after watching the video he sent me. Three takes, email off the .mp3 files, and done. Total time: under an hour. Here’s the video for your perusal:
The video is beautiful, largely due to my friend’s amazing camera work. I dare you to find a photographer who does more with the poor of Haiti’s capital than this man. He represents them with dignity, honor, and a complete fly-on-the-wall set of photos that can only come from spending hundreds of hours in that city. He’s just part of the scenery in Cite Soleil.
The tournament comes and goes. The world turns, and almost two years pass. I was back in Haiti on a mission trip last week and we had a chance to tour Haitian Initiative. It was cool to see the soccer fields in person. The feeding center brought back memories of the video. Always nice to see the places and things I talk about for radio and television. It rarely happens.
The man who gave us the tour, and a talk about what the program means, is Makenzy Francois. The statistics are impressive: hundreds of children fed, kept in school, and growing to a healthy adulthood because of this program. It truly amazed me, and I was delighted to get to see the place.
The wheels started to come off about that point, near the end of the talk. Makenzy said, “But this is only possible because of the video Michael did. That turned the corner for us.” I turned around and looked at my friend, the videographer. He’s a humble man and I could see that he was embarrassed. The group got up, talk over, and headed back to the vehicles. I grabbed him and asked if it was the video we did two years ago. Yes. He took me to meet Makenzy, who was talking to our leaders. He introduced me as “the voice on the video.” Makenzy stopped dead. “You were my voice. You let the world hear me.”
By far the greatest compliment I have ever been paid as an actor.
He explained that until that video they’d been struggling. But once they had that video the fundraising had picked up and allowed the program to continue – even to grow. He was effusive in his thanks. I think he was. I’m not completely sure as I was trying not to sob.
Less than an hour of my very blessed life had been involved in that video. But I was his voice. I had a part in preventing teen pregnancy in Cite Soleil because the girls stayed in school and played soccer. The boys didn’t join gangs, but were now preparing for college. Children who didn’t grow properly were now gaining inches and muscle because of those meals they got in the program. I had made a difference.
I went outside and cried. I was ashamed to be so moved. I felt weak. God had just opened my eyes like Saul’s and it took every bit of strength and dignity out of my body. I was as weak as a four year old in Cite Soleil. I was floored by the fact that I, Joe Courtemanche, in concert with my friend, had done something so amazing by using the talent that God is allowing me to employ while I’m on this planet.
That night we had our evening meeting at the mission house. We share the “word of the day” around the dinner table. Mine was about what had happened at Haitian Initiative that afternoon. I told the story and was once again shattered.
God does that to us sometimes. He wants us broken so that he can mend us and use us as he needs. I have done dozens of voice projects for charities and good causes. Never charging a penny. That’s what I’m supposed to do if I’m living my life properly. Never once did I think that it would do anything except give a nice voice to a video, or a book for the blind.
But it did. It meant food, education, and a future for hundreds of kids in Haiti.
I can no longer ignore what I do for the good. I won’t trumpet it, but I will bask in the warmth of God’s glow when I help out my fellow man. I will be proud of that work, and encourage others to do the same. I will take my place in the Kingdom and work toward that grace that comes with knowing you’re really taking the yoke, and not just keeping pace with those that do the work.
We all can contribute in some way. Physical work, writing, singing, acting, or just washing the feet of the elderly. Done them all in my life. I’m coming out of the humble closet and letting you know that it feels absolutely magnificent to be doing His work on this planet.
What can you do with your talents to make a difference? Knit caps for newborns? Paint a picture? Record a book? Pack meals for Feed My Starving Children? Or, perhaps most importantly, hold a dying child who has never felt her mother’s breath on her face, and cradle her in your arms?
Find that talent. Use that talent. Honor God and remember to honor yourself.
Thanks for reading today.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
This will be quick. I’m totally beat after a 19 hour day that started in Haiti and ended in Minneapolis. From sun and 90 to dark and snow. Truly a blessed day.
It was my great honor to be part of a mission team that spent a week in Port-au-Prince. A week filled with miracles of healing, bonding, excitement, and spiritual warfare. I love each of those people more than my tired little brain can express right now.
Before I go to bed, I want to thank Russ and Dave, our leaders. Elisa, Gates, and Michael who made our trip special with their kindness and joy in our presence. Here’s our mission blog if you’d like to read what we wrote. I contributed a few days, but these folks can write, minister, and love with the best of them.
A special nod goes to our drivers and translators. God blessed us all with these men. They protected us from the utterly insane traffic (more on that later) and the dangers that accompany working in some of the poorest neighborhoods in the world. They were in competition with our beloved house staff for their kindness and outstanding food and service. Not a single member of Healing Haiti that we worked with was less than superb.
I love that place. I brought back a piece of it tonight, and left a big hunk of me behind, waiting for the next trip.
Pictures, stories, and more love to follow. But right now I stink and I have cuts and bruises to tend to before bed. Nothing major. Just some scrapes with the earth of a land I am growing to be a part of in this life.
God bless Haiti. God bless the United States of America. God bless you for reading my blog.
I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
The amazing rolls that Brenda made with my spice suggestions, all stolen from Gordon Ramsay and Robert Irvine? Yeah, baby, that was a learning lesson/teaching time/some other trite expression.
I love to cook. There are enough photos on my phone to keep you drooling for months if I ever get to food blogging. As the oldest of 4 kids that spanned 5 years in birth dates, I figured out early on that helping mom in the kitchen meant eating sooner. That passion for food has continued to this day.
I rarely do a recipe. I might consult the food gods for ideas, but when I get to the stove anything goes. There have been a few notable failures along the way, but I’ve learned a lot of good tricks as well. Much as some of you will knock them, Robert Irvine and Gordon Ramsay have proven invaluable in teaching me tricks for preparing food on a large scale: that helps when feeding the homeless.
Some months ago I gifted Brenda with a batch of our infamous Mango/Rhubarb jam. She made rolls with it and told me that they didn’t have quite the oomph she wanted. I suggested cardamom. I like cardamom. I’d probably eat dirt if somebody… well, you get the point.
A few days later she made another batch and brought them to work. She added my other favorite, and also suggested spice, cayenne to the mix. Not just good, but spicy good. The perfect breakfast roll for my money.
The point? I’d never made breakfast rolls in my life. But I knew something about seasoning and combined with her baking skills we had a winner.
Do you go through life hoarding your insights, or do you share them with others? Is that knowledge just wasting away in your head, or are you spreading the joy to others.
I have found that sharing wisdom brings even more my way. People like to share what they know, and if you’re open to learning you will listen and gain more than you give. It brings peace and comfort in tough times as well. Talking about Jesus is like that for me. It’s not standing on a street corner handing out tracts, but it’s sharing the secret recipe ingredient with someone in the course of conversation.
This last week I was in to see the doctor about the joy of kidney stones. In the course of our conversation miracles came up. Don’t even remember how. But he shared with me an experience where the dead came back to life. He called it a miracle. Boom, door open. I shared my faith and how I’d seen miracles as well. Did I do anything for his belief? Did I convert him? Was he already a Christian? I have no answers to any of the above. But it was natural to talk about it with the man. I was pleased to have the chance.
When the conversation was done, I told him that I hoped he would see many more miracles in his practice of medicine. I hope he does.
Will you share an ingredient from your life? Will you share your faith? Remember: it doesn’t have to be on a street-corner with a tract, it can be in the kitchen with a pinch of pepper.
Be blessed.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
Many years ago my beloved Old English Sheepdog, Nigel, passed away. It was just a month after 9-11, life was pretty dreary, and the old boy couldn’t make it up and down the back steps any longer. At 90 pounds (ribs sticking out) there was no way we could carry him out and in to do his business for the winter. His body was weak, and he was just tired of it all. For two years he’d been wearing diapers. Yeah, I’m a little nuts, but it didn’t seem like it was time until the stairs became an issue.
On the afternoon of the day he died, I sent an email to my friends and family. I was hurting, my wife was hurting, and I needed to talk about it with someone. My mother has often commented that it’s the best thing I’ve ever written. Perhaps. But her words of praise got me going on the journey of being a writer as much as anything else has in my life.
Here’s the email I sent that day- typos and all.
Greetings:
It is a sad day in our house, because shortly after noon today, Nigel was put to sleep. He couldn’t climb stairs or move about too well, and he’d lost his ability to control himself. He was too hot in summer and too cold in winter. But he was my best buddy ever.
Nigel had shared over half of our married life with us, and we knew him from the time he was a lump in his mother’s belly until his final moments as an old dog.
During his time on this planet, Nigel was our friend, protector, and resident cartoon character. He was there when we went to bed and upon our arrival in the morning, holding the fort in the hours in-between the dusk and dawn. Often that time was spent comforting Kip in the darkest hours of her night. Racked with insomnia, Nigel was her beacon toward the day’s light.
Nigel made us better people. We quit smoking because it made him sneeze. He encouraged us to remember that a warm heart is much more important than an extra workout. This past week, before I knew he was leaving us, he asked me to forego my workout and stay home and play, catching the bus instead of walking. I’m terribly glad that I did. He didn’t fetch much, but stood there supervising while Edzell (our Sheltie) carried on the day to day work of being the dog in the house.
Nigel was our Guardian Angel. I know that probably sounds silly to some of you, perhaps an opportunity to think we replaced kids with our dogs. Maybe. All I know is that he saved my life one night when I started falling backwards down the stairs while on crutches. Nigel pushed me upright. He’d never before been the second one up the stairs. That night he followed me and saved my neck.
On more than one occasion he saved Kip as well. I could always tell when she’d had an especially bad day, for I’d come home to find her in bed, and nigel standing guard over her. He wouldn’t leave her side until I was aware of her needs.
He went from a bossy puppy to a bossy old fellow with lots of smiles in between. He looked silly at the end in his flowered diaper, DEPENDS snugged around his strong chest with masking tape. Maybe we were nuts to go so far to keep him around. All I know is that if I live to be 250 years old, I will never have another friend like Nigel.
And so this very sad day winds to a close. Kip is quietly crying next to me, my ares are wet and Edzell is sleeping under the edge of the table. He’s not all the wa under it: that’s where Nigel sleeps. Forever.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
