The Most Beautiful But

There comes a time when everything just kind of makes sense and you have what Oprah Winfrey calls an "Aha Moment." This weekend, I had mine. By my very nature I am the epitome of an introvert- I can't stand small-talk, I hate being in front of a group,  crowds completely drain me, and for better or worse, my Empathy game is strong. I feel what other people feel. I get happy when you're happy. I hurt when other people are hurt. For me, pain recognizes pain. That's easy to do when you've had your fair share of pain to overcome.

Meet *Carlos. Mike and I first met Carlos in August when he came out to one of our Bridge Serve events. He was fresh out of jail (like, he had literally gotten out that day) and had nowhere to go. He looked like he had really been through It. I got the feeling that he wouldn't be one to mess with, should you walk up on him in a dark alley. You could feel the anger and shame radiating off of his body and he used words that even I have never heard. By all accounts, Carlos was someone that most people would avoid or flat-out ignore, but for some reason I was drawn to him. I wasn't afraid that he had just been released from jail, I wasn't intimidated by his anger, and I certainly wasn't offended by his surprising vocabulary. I knew that kind of anger because again, Pain recognizes Pain. I knew that that anger was a means of survival. A kind of defense. A kind of "maybe they won't get to me if I get to them first" mentality. A fortress guarding something fragile and vulnerable. Carlos was scared and didn't know what to do. 

Over the last few months, Carlos has become a friend. We learned his story and have a better understanding of why he is the way he is and how he got to this point in life. We understand that under that hard, tough exterior is a broken, scared, and vulnerable man. He's got a heart of gold and just needs some help polishing it up. He's one of the most kind-spirited people that we have out at The Bridge. He's usually one of the first to be there, asking how he can help set up, keeping the lines in order, and keeping a smile on everyone's face with his loud, boisterous voice. Carlos is a free spirit and marches to the beat of several different drums and is seriously so funny!

This weekend, Mike and I ran into Carlos and right away could tell that he wasn't in a good spot. His eyes were bloodshot, he was pacing back and forth, and he appeared to be extremely agitated. In speaking to him, Carlos revealed that he had been planning on doing "something bad" to someone he felt had wronged him, and was then planning to take his own life. As Mike and I began to probe him about what was going on, tears started flowing down Carlos' face. He admitted that his anger was out of control and that he didn't know how to get out of his current situation. He was so tired of living this life, that he wanted to end his own. Through his tears and embraces from us, Carlos told us that just the night before he was praying about taking his own life and had been asking God to give him a sign to not go through with it. That next morning, we saw Carlos and by no consequence, we were able to intervene. We were the sign, sent by God, that Carlos had been desperately seeking. 

I don't share this story to insinuate that we saved Carlos' life. We didn't, but God did. What a beautiful but! 

If you don't believe that human interaction and kindness can change someone's life, I challenge you to invest in someone, just one person. There are millions of people just like Carlos out there who feel hopeless, are misunderstood, and are in desperate need of someone who will take a chance and come alongside them. Be bold, be courageous, and be a Beautiful But to someone who needs it. 

*Name has been changed to protect privacy.

How a Cupcake Doll Led Me to Forgive

Who remembers the Cupcake Dolls, circa like, 1990? The ones that were folded up like precious little cupcakes and then when you unfolded them, they turn into the cutest little scented doll?

One of the first times I can remember hating my dad was when I was about five or six years old. My dad was trying to teach my stubborn self how to ride a bike with no training wheels and for the life of me, I couldn't figure it out. He lost patience, I quit trying, and a storm rolled in... literally and figuratively. As the winds picked up and the rain began to pour, he told me that I wasn't allowed inside until I had figured out how to ride that damn bike without any training wheels, and that if I couldn't, he would throw my beloved Cupcake Dolls away. I can't remember if I actually rode the bicycle, or if my mom came to my rescue, but needless to say, my Cupcake Dolls disappeared. I've hated my dad for a lot more, and unfortunately, a lot less than throwing away my Cupcake Dolls.

I'll spare the most private of details in an effort to protect those around me but if you've ever lived with someone who is struggling with addiction, then you'll understand the turmoil of our daily life. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't fun, and sometimes it was downright scary. Now that I've been able to experience some life myself, and have come out of the angry-rebellious-teenager phase that I was stuck in well into my thirties, I can see how wrong I was to judge someone for a disease so powerful. What I should have extended was grace; what I actually dished out was far from it.

About a month ago, we found an incredible church here in San Antonio called City Church Downtown. We were immediately drawn to the people. This church has members who are in and out of homelessness as door greeters, LGBTQ+ members, people who don't wear bras to service, people dressed in their Sunday best, people with piercings and tattoos, and even the occasional Green Bay Packers fan (boo! Go Chiefs!). This is their mission statement:

 One of the teachings we're currently going through is called the "Hero Maker" series. Two super cool things have come from this. Cool Thing #1- One of our challenges is called the ICNU. Basically, you're supposed to encourage someone by saying, "I see in you" and then fill in the blank. "I see in you an incredible drive to help the homeless population." "I see in you an unbreakable joy." "I see in you an undeniable presence of Jesus." Cool Thing #2- One of my friends who hasn't been to church in awhile for his own reasons decided to come try out this church as well, and within two days he sent me this article that totally wrecked me in the most unexpected way.

For real, go read that last article I linked and then come back. It talks about forgiveness (gross!) and how sometimes we, the ones who have been hurt, withhold our own forgiveness and affection because we believe that it harms the person who has caused us the pain. Get it? WE GET HURT + WE WITHHOLD FORGIVENESS = WE THINK WE ARE HURTING THE PERSON WHO HURT US. So in turn, we are doing the exact same thing to the person that we are mad at! How in the world does that make sense? It doesn't. The other concept that this article on forgiveness made me consider is this: If I'm trying to teach my daughter about kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and life, I better be walking the same rope. How can I be an example for her when I have so much of my own hate built up in my heart? That's called being a hypocrite and I'll be damned if anyone ever uses that word to describe me.

So, how did the Cupcake Dolls lead me to forgive my dad? I'm glad you asked. Perhaps the most powerful lesson in all of this came from my husband, who, after hearing the sermon on ICNU, wrote down some of his own ideas of what he sees in me. I'll share a few:

"I see in you a bravery so strong, you can change the world."
"I see in you an unwillingness to quit fighting for what you believe in."
"I see in you the most loving wife, mother, and friend."

Immediately following this, he pulled out a bag containing two Cupcake Dolls. He told me that he knew how upset I was by the Cupcake Dolls being thrown away 28 years before, and what those represented as it pertained to my relationship with my dad. As silly as it sounds, he wanted to use those Cupcake Dolls to give me a new memory... one of forgiveness, and of rebuilding. He told me that he couldn't take away what had happened in the past, but that he could help be part of a healthier future. I loved the imagery behind what the Cupcake Dolls now represented: a jumbled up, sweet-smelling mess, that when unpacked and unfolded, transformed into the beautiful display it was meant to be.

I don't know where the relationship with my dad is headed, but I can tell you this: for maybe the first time in my life, I've truly forgiven him, and he knows it. Maybe we'll be on speaking terms again, maybe we'll never speak, but the burden is no longer mine. I don't know what it is in your life that is holding you back, but I truly hope you find "the thing" that propels you forward. Maybe it's a new church, maybe it's a friend sharing truth in your life, maybe it's a stupid, plastic, $8.99 smell-good toy.

Brave, Bold, Beautiful Mess

The first time I thought about killing myself, I was a third grader. 8 years old. I didn't know the meaning of "suicide", but I knew that girls were mean, cruel, torturous creatures... and that I wanted to die.

The first time I actually tried killing myself, I was a sophomore in high school. 15 years old, and seven years after the first thoughts of harming myself ever entered into my mind. The details of that day don't matter except to say that it was the first time I could no longer control my darkness and because of that, I've got a couple of tattoos on my wrists to cover up the wounds of my past.

It wasn't until I was 25 and married, that I finally decided to go to the doctor. I had been through years of counseling and sports psychology that eventually bled back over to even more counseling, so decided maybe I needed a different kind of "help". In truth, I actually thought that I was bi-polar because I had thrown a hammer across the room at my husband during one of my bouts of uncontrolled rage. Luckily for both of us, it's really hard to see behind a face full of tears and snot. As it turns out, my self-diagnosis was incorrect, and I was instead given the diagnosis of "Depression." I remember laughing at the idea of being depressed and thinking that I just needed to snap out of it, make myself happier, be a better (non-hammer yielding) wife. I took my prescription anti-depressants for a while, and then when I felt like I didn't need to cry everyday, believed the lie, and quit cold-turkey. I actually felt guilty for needing to take an anti-depressant and felt that I could just bring my own self out of the funk.

Wrong.

The most recent time I thought about killing myself was this past weekend. I'm 32 years old. I was helping some family clean out their house and came across bottles of pills that we needed to dispose of. Like, at least 20 different types of pills that had been prescribed to someone else to help keep them alive. Nobody knew at the time that I had sat there, silently wondering what would happen if I took just a handful of those pills. Would I get sick? Would I die?

 And just like that, I was triggered and in a completely dark, completely unhealthy headspace. I thought about driving off the bridge on the way home, too. I later confided in my husband both instances. My reasoning for that was that my family needed someone better than me. Someone nicer. Someone more funny. Someone more appreciative of the beautiful life she has, but takes for granted. If I was dead, they'd be forced to find a new and improved Jacque. Jacque2.0, if you will.

But that's just it. That's the lie that depression will so often tell you. You aren't good enough, they would be better off without you, you are more of a nuisance than you are a helper, they would be happier with someone else, you don't deserve to be happy, they deserve more than what you can offer, you'll never attain this, get that, you'll never be enough!  

When you are someone who suffers from depression, it's a constant battle raging inside your own head every single day. It's a new narrative that must be written. When you go for so long believing the lies, it's hard to delve fully into the truth. It's hard to convince yourself that you've been wrong and misinformed about your own life's worth for so long. I'd love to say that I have it mastered and that I have my depression under control and for the most part, I do. I'm finally to the point where I have more good days than bad. But I have a terribly, wonderfully supportive husband, and a handful of family/friends, and a little white pill I take every day that help keep me there. There will be good days, and there might even be some days like I had this past weekend where a little too much darkness creeps back in. Surround yourself with people who are truth-tellers, and hold onto that truth.

You are good enough, they need you and depend on you, you are who they chose and who makes them happy, you are worthy of joy and love, they want you, who cares if you get this or that, you have them, you brave, bold, beautiful mess, are enough. 




If you don't struggle with depression, may I urge you to check on your friends? The strong one, the funny one, the one who appears to have their life together. I'm really good at faking that nothing is wrong, and I'm sure there are others just like me. Reach out. You never know who may need it.

Fort Haus

This weekend began with a tour of the Sam Houston State Bearkat's football facilities. One of our good friends, (shout-out to #51!) gave us all a tour- complete with some practice equipment:

We finished off Friday with a dinner-date to Olive Garden. Phiona has a new purse that she got for helping me with some work around my office, so she had the giftcards in her purse and took us out to dinner. Here's a couple of pics from that night:

Saturday was spent running some errands, going grocery shopping, getting Phi's new Bearkat dress (to be revealed next weekend) and just some general pick-up. School started today, so we didn't want to do anything too crazy this weekend... except for a special request for some fort building.

In preparation of the first day of school, I introduce you to- Fort Haus.

And yes, all three humans, plus all three animals slept in Fort Haus Saturday night. My hips, knees, and back were extremely unhappy with me on Sunday morning.

Sunday at church we had the annual kick-off Sunday where everyone wears their favorite jersey. Against my will, we were sporting coughDallasCowboycough jerseys. So sad. We also decided to do a bit of crafting for some Christmas gifts. This is Phiona, hard at work on one of the gifts:

And, in true Best Baba Ever fashion, Mike allowed for Phiona to paint his fingernails.

She was mortified when he told her that he was keeping the polish on, and immediately made him take it off when he told her that he was going to wear his nails like that when he dropped her off for the first day of school. "No, Baba! Everyone will laugh at me. You look like a girl! You a boy!"

Since this was Phi's first day of The First Day of School with us, we let her choose her dinner. We gave her the option of having whatever she wanted, whether it be something at home, or something out of the home. Her choice? Church's Chicken. Obvi.

This morning, the excitement in our house was uncontrollable. Between the zebra print backpack, and the leopard print lunch box, I have a feeling that this will be a fierce year of school. Mrs. Allen, you'd better be prepared!

Gosh, I can't believe our baby is in first grade! And to think, it barely even took me 7 years to get my pre-baby body back! ;)

Day Dates and Graduation

How impressed are you, Reader?! Two posts in four days has got to be some sort of record over in BlogLand. As a woman true to her word, complete with Scout's Honor, I am doing my best to keep you up to date with the happenings of Team Hausinger. It's been three days since we've made the decision to go Facebook-free and while it has been weird to feel so out-of-touch, it has made me to be more intentional with the time spent with my family.

We had a super fun, super packed weekend and it was so nice to be home, and enjoying it together. Friday night, we went down to Houston as part of the Bridge Ministry from our home church. It's a ministry in which we take food, clothes, water, and the Love of Christ to the homeless population of Houston. It happens every third Friday, and this last Friday marked 9 years that this ministry has been pouring out to Houston's homeless community. Phiona and some of her friends were able to serve and let me just tell you: never have the people we are serving had such polite manners! Usually there is a bit of cursing, a bit of pushing, and a whole lot of attitude. A few people in our group joked that we should have the kids serve all the time, because of how smoothly it went and how everyone was so polite!

 

On Saturday, Mike decided to take us on a date! We went to this cute little place called 7 Acre Woods in Conroe. You pay and admission fee (uber cheap) and then they have all kinds of stuff for the family to do: Petting Zoo, train rides, pony rides, Ladder Golf, ziplines, scooters, rock wall, putt-putt golf, volleyball, a mini football field, puppet plays, and more! Here's a few pics from that day:

 

 

 

Finally, on Sunday, Phiona graduated from the kindergarten ministry at church and got to go up on stage to receive her new Bible. The pictures are a bit blurry, but she was so proud.

 

While I can't say for sure how long this Facebook break will last, I can tell you that I am loving the freed up time that I get with my family! It's only been three days, so let's not get too excited, but it feels so good to be intentional with my time.

 

Until next time!



 

 

 

 

 

 

Priorities

Welcome to the blogosphere, my friends! We I recently decided to deactivate our Facebook account and thought that we would hop on over here to keep the updates rollin'. I can't guarantee you how good I'll be at keeping y'all updated, but I promise to try my very best. Scout's honor.

For those of you wondering why on Earth we're finally doing this (I've done it twice before, but only for like, an hour), the answer(s) is/are simple. I want to get back to what's important: doing life with my family. This isn't to say that I can't live my life with my family AND have a Facebook account. But honestly, it's become quite the addiction problem. And besides, who doesn't want to spend more time with this:

Instead of doing things that invest into our future as a family, I constantly find myself checking Facebook to see who's doing what or who just got the new _____, or who's going where on what vacation. It's disgusting actually, this problem of mine. Instead of making memories, I'm checking to see how many "likes" I have for the picture I just uploaded 15 seconds ago. To be completely honest: my priorities are out of whack. Quite frankly, my family doesn't need a wife/mother who is more preoccupied than she already is. They need an attentive, focused, hands-on, contributing member to the family. Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing. And sorry, Facebook, but I'm quitting you.

Like I've said: I need to get my priorities in order and if this isn't my order, it's not good enough and something has got to change:

1. God
2. Husband
3. Family
4. Ministry

Confession time: Did you know that I spend more hours on Facebook than I do at church, bible study, reading my Bible, and personal time spent with our Lord combined? Yikes, sister. No wonder things seem to have a higher degree of suck to them lately. My husband actually told me that he thought I was falling away from God/church. How's that for a loving slap-to-the-face?

And speaking of the best husband and father to our child that I could have ever hoped for:

Who wants to miss out on times like this?! These memories are precious and once the opportunity is gone, there is no getting it back. Lord, I pray that I may seize every opportunity You give me to make the most out of every situation. I know that you aren't supposed to pray for patience, because let's be honest, nobody wants to be tested. However, I pray that I could be half as patient with my husband and daughter as he is with me. I'm not the easiest person to be around and have probably been a total buzz kill lately but you know what? My husband still loves me unconditionally, tells me I'm beautiful when I have snot running down my face and mascara smeared half-way across my forehead, <--- don't ask how it got there, I really don't know, and am just plain mean-spirited. THAT, y'all, is a God-fearing man who has been sent by a merciful, loving Father, to shepherd my heart and to teach me how to be better. My husband makes me want to do better, to be better. Not just for him, but for our family.

Ahh, yes. My family. I mean, not to be vain, but how cute are we?! I wonder how many moments I've let escape us, how many conversations I've killed, and how much nurturing and love I've let slip by because I've had my head down, totally tuned out to the world around me, checking up on the latest status updates. My husband didn't marry me so that he could be a single parent until I've returned from scrolling through the endless amounts of status updates. My daughter doesn't want a mom who doesn't listen to her day-time stories of triumph and tribulations on the playground because I'm too busy getting involved in the latest drama on Facebook that doesn't even concern me. My family needs me and I need to give them that. We need to be a cohesive unit, doing life together. We need to teach our daughter the values of life, the excitement and beauty surrounding her, and how to love and love well.

This is her, serving food to the homeless community in downtown Houston.

 

How could I not nurture her desire to help others who are in need? You can't teach that kind of compassion and for her, it comes as natural as you can get. You want to know what is so cool about her love of helping others that almost brings this momma to her knees? She gets it. She knows what it's like not to have a roof over her head, just the clothes on her back, and wondering where her next meal is coming from. She understands how much it means to have a helping hand, a welcoming smile, and a warm meal in her belly. She can identify with the very same people that she's ministering to. That's incredibly valuable and I just wonder: how many of us can love with such compassion and vulnerability? She's a blessing for sure, that one.

 

And as much as I love to see the postings on Facebook, I'm challenging myself. To be a better follower of Christ, a more loving wife, a more attentive mother, and to love those that need it the most, just like my daughter has taught me to do.

 



 

The "other" side of adoption.

I can remember back to November 10th, 2012... sitting in my car in the parking lot at work and bawling like Michael Jackson had just died I had just lost a family member. I was on the phone with my husband and I'll never forget his words, "We did it. We have our court date." Silence. "Are you there? Are you breathing?" Sobbing. "Please tell me you're breathing." It was the single most happiest/scariest/relieving/stress-inducing day of my life. All of the hard work, anticipation, and prayers that had gone into making this dream of bringing our daughter home were suddenly very much a reality. We had less than 48 hours to pack up our life, get our business in order, and get to the airport to catch our plane to finally be united with our daughter. If I'm being completely honest, I don't remember much of those 48 hours or even the 27-hours trip to Uganda. It was all so completely surreal and not to mention the fact that we had probably gotten 4 hours of sleep in the past 2 days- I'm sure we looked all kinds of crazy.

Fast forward to Sunday night (Ugandan time). I actually had to use Mike's inhaler so that I could breath! The weight of knowing that we were about to see our daughter was almost too much for me to handle. Would she remember us? Would she be scared? Would she run up to us with outstretched arms just like she had so many times in my dreams? Aside from my wedding day and landing back in America with her, that was one of my most joy-filled moments. It didn't happen like it did in my dreams. It was better. Out of the crowd of people waiting to see their loved ones, came our sweet daughter. In a black and red dress and even more beautiful than I remembered, she greeted us with hugs and her timid demeanor. Finally, we were together. Eighteen months of heartache and wondering and hoping and dreaming. We were finally Team Hausinger.

This was our first family photo in Uganda. Four days after we got the email of our court date.

 

Allow me to let you in on a little something, a confession if you will. For those of you not yet in the adoption-world this may come as a bit of a shocker newsflash.

 

Adoption is hard. Downright ugly at times. So ugly that you put yourself in a mommy time-out and have a good cry in your closet think, "What the heck am I even doing?!" This is the rarely-spoken-about-side-of-adoption that frankly, people just don't share. Why, you may ask? That's a good question and when I figure it out I'll be rich and famous. All too often, people sugar-coat or just don't talk about all sides of adoption. What you see on Facebook or Instagram is the information that people have chosen to let you see. The cute pictures at the beach for the first time (guilty), the first trip to the ice cream shop (guilty), the hilarious dance videos where everyone is laughing and having a good time (guilty). Not that any of this is wrong, but for those of you on the fence about adopting and not yet ready to take the plunge, it makes our life look like fairy dust and sprinkles. Easy. Fun. Happy.

 

What you don't see, is that 15 minutes after the ice cream shop picture was taken, there is a scared little girl/boy huddled in the corner in her/his bedroom, afraid, but unwilling to communicate why. What you don't hear about, is that after you've just gotten done disciplining your child for (fill in the blank), they are truly terrified that you are sending them back to the country they came from because you don't love them anymore because they just got in trouble. What you don't hear about is the stories of abuse/neglect that your child suffered at the hands of the very same person who was supposed to be their caregiver. Fire drills at school? Total meltdown. Being told that they can't have soda for breakfast? Complete chaos. Needing to go to sleep with every single light on in the house because they are scared because of some fear that darkness brings about from their time spent in the orphanage? Heartbreaking.

 

Add these fears and insecurites on top of having normal, six-year-old behavior, and you've got yourself quite the doozy learning curve. Not only is our daughter behaving like every other child we've ever been around, and not only are we Insta-Parents, but this mess is just plain hard. So when you ask me questions like, "Oh my goodness, she is just SO precious! How is she?" and, "How are you doing, you know, with being a 'mom'?" and "Gosh, she is just SO well behaved. I'll bet you don't ever have any problems with her!" and I respond to you through tear filled eyes, a clenched jaw and a trembling chin that yes, everything is "good", that's about as best an answer as I can muster up. You see, people don't really want to hear the good, the bad and the ugly. If they did, and you were actually honest about it then that would mean that they are obligated to lend a hand, an ear, or even a shoulder to cry on.

 

But let me tell you something else. As hard as this is for us, the parents, can you even begin to imagine what's going through the head of our daughter? Adoption is hard. But so is being a six year old little girl, taken away from everything you've ever known and loved. Some things are unfair. But so is trying to process the fact that your first mother left your life, and now you have a new mother who doesn't even look like you. Our daughter's story is hers to tell, or not. But it's a story that has more pain and heartbreak in the first six years of life than many of us will ever experience in a lifetime. It's not fair, it's not right, it's ugly, and it's painful.

 

 But through the mud and the yuck, there are also glimmers of hope. Rays of healing. Joy. LOVE. HAPPINESS. HEALING. SAFETY, SECURITY. And maybe a little bit of healthy craziness.

 

                                        Naturally, braid removal is one of our favorite past-times. (snort. sarcasm)

                                                        Team Hausinger "officially" est. November 23, 2012

                                                                               Pure, unconditional joy.