Horse in the House

April 4, 2025

Reclaim Your Living Room


Dear Nieces & Nephews,


We were part of the Willerup Methodist Church in my early childhood. Just across Water Street from our home in Cambridge, it was a big part of our lives. Your grandparents (and great grandparents) had gotten married there.


Here's a shot of the guests at their wedding:


This angle shows our house across the street:



Your uncles mowed the cemetery and rang the steeple bell. When a kitten was heard crying in the foundation, it was Uncle Dave who climbed down and rescued her. (Waddly Wump birthed many litters of kittens for our family to enjoy over the next decade.)



I remember running over to a midweek service in bare feet more than once, only to be sent home for my shoes. I didn’t understand why, because church was home.


But then disagreement hit the fan, we left, and home became church. 



For about a decade, a revolving group of Christians met in our living room where Grandpa Clark taught and led worship from his guitar while Grandma Nancy played piano, and we kids tried our hand at a variety of instruments. The ragtag group that attended, in retrospect, reminds me of David’s Mighty Men. Remarkable, displaced and disgruntled with traditional church, they were drawn to your grandparents’ dad-and-mom hearts (and maybe the kittens). We lived a lot of life together, and it’s the quirky memories that stick in my mind the most:


Helping a family clean their house and watching their joy when the long-lost piano was found.


Taking in a family’s pig when neighbors complained to the police it was living in their basement. (We had moved out to our farm on Highway 73 by then.)


And then there was the family with the sick horse. They brought it into their living room to nurse. The horse died there, and the family moved out. That’s all I remember. No details, which is bothering me these days because I really want the full story. Especially how long they moved out for.


The reason this memory has come front and center this week is that I let a horse die in my living room too.

Figuratively speaking.


And then another.


And another.


Repeatedly, these words have rung through my heart: “Do NOT move out just because a horse died in there.”  Here are some specifics:


  • Do not move out of that identity just because a lie moved in.
  • Do not move out of that dream just because selfish ambition moved in.
  • Do not move out of that hope because of failure.
  • Do not move out of that pursuit because of weariness.
  • Do not give up on that person because of what they just did.
  • Do not give up on that plan because the finances ran out for it.


The picture has given me fresh resolve to reclaim my living room and hold my ground.


Are there any dead horses in yours? I hope you will ask the Holy Spirit and take time to listen. If He brings one to mind, refuse fear and shame. You’re in good company here. Ask Him the best way to drag it out. He will be happy to help you.


I wouldn’t wait too long. Dead things get stinkier by the minute, and clean-up becomes much harder.


The world needs you to share your living room. So do I! I’d love an invitation.


All My Love,


Aunt Michelle

Horse in the House

Since Life Is Such A Good Teacher

By Michelle Hauge • April 18, 2025
Dear Nieces & Nephews, We moms put a lot of thought into making sure our kids know enough. Especially when we’re homeschooling, it can become all-consuming. Everything runs through the filter of, “Do my kids need to know this?” or, “How can I help them understand that?” “Will they survive without knowing that thing they have no interest in?” becomes more prevalent as they get into their upper high school years. We know their bents and their battles and choose carefully. Frankly, we'd all do well to apply the same strategy. Maybe it’s time we slacken the line of fear over all we don’t know, and just embrace what life is teaching us in the moment. Especially the hard things. Go ahead and marinate. It’s a lot more effective than a thousand pings of slight recognition from a text book. Thaddeus and Kieran have taught me more about learning from the nitty gritty of life than anyone else. I used to call them our “Dopternal Twins” (twins through adoption). With just two months separating them, they became a formidable duo that took the world by storm the day they locked eyes in parallel play and discovered that combining forces could triple the noise and excitement. Synergy. For some reason, they decided early-on the same thing Uncle Terry used to tell me growing up: That everything I know is wrong. Until proven right. Or at least interesting. This made for an interesting dynamic in our homeschool. They learned to read standing on their heads off the back of the couch. Every subject was made as tangible as possible, and stories were woven into everything ... along with lots and lots of life. We began each day with FPT (Family Project Time), ran our home businesses together, and hosted streams of people and events. When the boys were in 5th Grade, we discovered the Madison Area Home Schoolers basketball team. The first time I saw them play on a team, I wept tears of relief as I saw the good that could come out of their dynamic synergy. Not only were they quick, intense and skillful, they also had the kind of connection that left onlookers breathless, passing the ball blind to each other with uncanny precision. Now they’re 18. Graduation is right around the corner. Life has taken a lot of turns and they’re on different paths. They are still learning some things academically, but mostly we are amazed at what life is teaching them. It’s slow and hard and painful, but so much more effective than books full of random facts. Whenever we see them embrace life, we rejoice. Three flat tires in a month? Wow, is he getting good at changing tires! A friend taking advantage of him? He's figuring out the balance of boundaries and forgiveness. Two parking tickets for the same infraction? (Turns out City of Madison and UW Madison parking enforcements have overlapping jurisdiction during state basketball tournaments.) A whole load of life going on in this one! You get the idea. Yes, life can be painful but it’s such a good teacher. I wonder what it’s teaching you today? Embrace it! Love, Aunt Michelle

Birthday Baby

By Michelle Hauge • March 28, 2025
Celebrating Life

Adventure Day

By Michelle Hauge • March 23, 2025
Dear Nieces & Nephews, We had been home schooling your cousins for several years when I decided our days had become too mundane, and “Adventure Days” were born. Once a week, I’d wake everyone up with a mysterious list of items to pack, then we’d drive off into the great unknown. The study desk for the day might be a new library, the top of a bluff, the base of a waterfall, a waterpark in its off-season, a donut shop. Kids had only to trust, follow along and have a great time. Some of them loved these days and still talk about them today. Some chafed and battled. Why? I still ponder my way through the psychology of it. I’d suspect there were two elements at work: pride (“I have better ideas than you; I want to do mine instead.”) and insecurity (“My trust broke when I was a baby and I can’t trust you unless you’re utterly predictable.”) Both demonstrate an insatiable appetite for being in control. And I relate to both. It amazes me how diligent God is in refining the skill set I need to trust Him in each day’s unpredictability. It’s finally dawning on me that the angst in the pit of my stomach won’t dissipate until I let go of my pride and insecurity and stop battling for my own way, which sounds like this: “I want adventure, but it needs to be of MY choosing, in MY timing. I need YOU to be steady and predictable and safe. YOUR job is to (please) make it comfortable and fun, and (please) make sure I look really good to everyone else along the way.” God doesn’t usually go along with requests like this. He loves me too much. He loves YOU too much too. If you feel like you’re drowning today, please learn this alongside me: The very life circumstances that are drowning us can also make us float. The difference is in our response. Lightness and ease will not come from being in control of our own adventure, but in surrendering and trusting the One who loves us so very much. He is trustworthy, even when others haven’t been. Peace will not come when the unpredictable stops. It will come when we learn to float in it. How do we learn this skill? Ask the Holy Spirit for swimming lessons. He will teach you. He will . Just ask. Even if you don’t think you know how to hear His voice, I guarantee He will not give you a snake when you ask for bread. (Matthew 7:9.) He’s the One who knit you together in your mother’s womb. (Psalm 139:13.) He knows every thought before it even enters your mind. (Psalm 139:2.) He certainly knows your language. Pay attention. Make Him your focus, not the circumstances that are making you panic. Then respond. We’re on the adventure of a lifetime together, you and I. Let’s enjoy it! Love, Aunt Michelle
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