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

Questions

By Michelle Hauge • June 15, 2025
Dear Nieces & Nephews, I haven’t written in a while. It’s not because I’ve thought of you less, but because the thoughts haven’t been clear enough to express. So maybe it’s a time for asking questions instead. How are you? Is your summer ready to hit full-swing? Do you have plans for deep soul-rest mixed into your bucket list? Does this list reflect your heart’s desires, or just the “summer shoulds” that swirl around our culture? Or the demands of your people? Are you giving extravagantly to them, while still letting them exercise their “NO" muscles? Are you exercising your “NO" muscle? Speaking of which, here’s a question about me: Do I teach too much about grace, and not enough about consequences? Probably. I hope that where I have, God will bring balance. He promises to be our Teacher. So maybe I can take the pressure off and realize I only carry a small piece of what He’s saying, and that’s OK. I’m not making or breaking anyone’s life. How about you? Are you putting too much pressure on yourself to be more than you are or to have more than is yours? If so, here are two wonderful terrible thoughts to remember: It’s not about me. ( Whew) I’m not God and am no one's savior. ( Double whew) Some of you have asked how you can help me through this season. I didn’t know until Shannon asked me at church this morning. Mid-answer, it became clear to me: Don't be afraid to look me in the eye. Tell me what’s happening in your life. Show me the world is bigger than the problem trying to block my view. Remind me that I’m still me, and tough things happening don’t change who I am. I'm still just plain ol' yours truly, Aunt Michelle

Happy Prayer

By Michelle Hauge • May 2, 2025
Let God Handle The Heavy Stuff

I Want To Be With You

By Michelle Hauge • April 19, 2025
Dear Nieces & Nephews, Images of you have been filling my mind this morning. You’re going through so much. I want to be with you in it. But lives have put physical distance between us, along with the invisible barriers that come with full homes and schedules ... only to be crossed at special events and chance encounters at Costco. I sure do want this to change. Being with each other really is a very big deal. It’s the substance of relationship. Jesus wanted his disciples with him when he was entering his darkest hour. He brought them to Gethsemane with him. When he told them he was overwhelmed with grief and sorrow to the point of death (pretty vulnerable), it’s remarkable that they fell asleep on him. It’s not like He had a victim mentality and talked that way all the time. “I want someone with me in my pain,” is central to the human heart, and I believe mirrors God’s. Yet how often do we sleep through our loved ones’ pain? Or defend ourselves in it? Or analyze it? Or devalue it by trying to rationalize it away? Yesterday was the portion of Resurrection Weekend that experiences Jesus’ pain with him, that watches and prays with him, that doesn’t try to explain anything away or fix anything, but just stays with Him. I'm going to give it another day. What does that MEAN for me today, Lord? What does it LOOK like? Watch and pray f or WHAT? There are no soldiers for me to watch for. Perhaps I am just to watch. ??? Why is this so hard? I want to know what to watch for. And I want to know what to do when I see it. But you haven’t told me that yet. And if I try to prepare for it, I’ll bring along a sword and cut off someone’s ear, or something equally rash. JUST WATCH. AND PRAY. AND BE WITH HIM. Be with Him in His pain. Be with my family members in their pain. Don’t try to fix anything. Don’t defend myself. Don’t analyze it or assign blame. JUST WATCH. AND PRAY. AND BE WITH THEM. And remember. I didn’t prepare for this at all, but I’m going to set up our kitchen island with the closest thing I have to bread and wine, and serve a day-long communion. I'm going to remember what my Savior did for me as I watch and pray, and invite Uncle Kerry and your cousins to do it with me. And I'll be remembering YOU, my nieces and nephews. Maybe I can’t be with you, but I remember you. I am praying for you. And I am watching for any points of reconnection. All my love, Aunt Michelle
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