August Update

Hey guys. We had an awesome trip to Asia. Hundreds of Asian and American students came together for 10 days of leadership training, cross-cultural bonding, and character development. Along the way, dozens of students met the Lord. It was an amazing, stretching time for me as a teacher and as a Christian. I'd love to tell you about it, and I want to take as many people back next year as possible. For obvious reasons, I have to be a bit vague here. But if you'd like to know more, email us at thehaguefamily@gmail.com. We would love to fill you in!

In the mean time, I wanted to let you all know that Sara and I have decided to settle down for now in Junction City, OR. There is a really terrific Early Intervention program for autistic children in Eugene, and Jack has been accepted into it. We are excited to see how he progresses in this environment. He will have a teacher working only with him all the time. A 1:1 teacher/student ratio! Amazing!

We're going to stay in YWAM, working with an amazing group from Colorado Springs. Our job will be able to help coordinate a massive missions effort into Asia next year. Of course, I (Jason) will continue to speak in YWAM training schools throughout the year.

Right now, we are in Minnesota to do some fund raising, visiting and recruiting for next summer. At the end of this month (August), we'll head down to Texas, and then maybe to California, for more of the same. Let us know if you're around and want to get together. We would love to see you.

Leaving California: Where do we Go from Here?

Okay, big announcement time. We've decided it’s time for us to move on to a place where we can put the girls in a Christian school and give Jack the special attention he needs. This cannot happen in Northern California.

So this weekend, June 13, we are hauling our lives up to Junction City, OR, to prepare for Jason's Asia outreach and to get some counsel and prayer time to figure out our next steps. Thankfully, we won't be going along. Our good buddies George, Karen, and Janae will be transitioning with us. Call it a short, "working sabatical." It's an oxymoron, I know...

We are going to stay in ministry for sure, but our family concerns are taking precedence over everything. There is a good chance we will stay in Oregon (where we can meet our family needs) and work alongside some dear YWAM friends in their church ministry (Many of you know them: Jeff & Jaymie Starr). But we really don't know yet.

Leaving YWAM Mendocino has been a difficult decision for us. It has been a fruitful season, but we were already sensing it was time to go. Our growing urgency for more mobility and flexibility in ministry has been weighing on us. Thankfully, our base directors have been very gracious and supportive in this decision.

So by the time I (Jason) leaves for Asia (July 10), we hope to have our plans firmed up. We will update you as soon as we can.

(NOTE: I can't post anything about this Asia outreach online, but I wrote about it in our family newsletter, to be sent out by snail male tomorrow. If you don't get our newsletter but want to hear more about it, email us and i can send you a pdf and get you on our list.)

By the time Jack turned 3 in February, the reality had begun to sink in. We had suspected something might be wrong for months, but Samuel’s heart saga demanded so much attention, we didn’t even want to think about this. So we waited until after surgery to get our next disconcerting revelation. It came in May:

Jack has autism.

Even as I type those words, I have to remind myself to stay calm. Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) covers a wide range of conditions. Jack’s symptoms don’t indicate an extreme case. He is a happy little guy, always smiling and singing. His motor skills are fine, and he is comfortable and flexible around us.

His social development, however, has been noticeably slow for a long time. Jack ignores his sisters and other kids his age. His vocabulary would be average for a boy half his age, and he doesn’t retain eye contact with anyone accept for Sara. He has also had severe insomnia (a common symptom). But more to the point: Jack usually stays in his own world.

We are so thankful for the new research that is being done on ASD. The medical community is being forced to re-write the playbook in this field, as this seems to be a growing epidemic. Although Jack’s formal diagnosis won’t come until June 10th, we have already started him on Enzyme therapy and special dietary treatments. It has only been a month, but we have already seen some promising progress. Our boy is asking for things now (with words!). And for the first time in we-don’t-know-how long, he is consistently sleeping through the night.

So please keep in your prayers as we try to figure out the best way to help our son. We are praying that he can have a normal life and reach his God-given potential.

Thanks.

Reflecting on Samuel's surgery

“We’re going to stop his heart, of course,” Laura, the pre-op nurse informed us the day before Samuel’s surgery. We looked at each other nervously. Stop his heart? It made sense, but we had never considered it before. “But don’t worry,” she assured us. “We’ll keep it cool and take good care of it.”

Our last six months have been filled with disconcerting revelations.
On April 16, we took our six month old Samuel to UCSF Children’s Hospital in San Francisco for open-heart surgery. We didn’t want to rush the operation, because his oxygen levels had been fine. No hurry. But then the cardiologist gave us another scary fact. “His valve is alot worse than we thought. It’s a good thing we’re doing this now.”

How much worse? Bad enough that the surgeon had to “remake” has valve with Sam’s own tissue. I’m thankful I don’t understand how that works because it sounds scary.

You should have seen him when the nurse took him from us. He was smiling at all the staff. So happy. So clueless...

We waited in a calm room with couches, a fish tank, and a noisy family of another patient. The mom tried to reassure us. He will be fine, just like her daughter. We grabbed lunch and a cup of Pete’s Coffee from the cafeteria. Two more hours. More waiting. We sent out some text messages. Sara took a nap while I read a spy novel. Another hour.

Finally, it hit me: I should be a basket case. My perfect little boy is having his most vital organ cut open by a band of masked strangers, and I feel almost nothing! Am I really that cold blooded?

The question haunted me during Sam’s first week of recovery. Yeah, I had a few moments of subtle panic, like when I looked up at his Vitals monitor. We had been watching alot of medical dramas, you know, and the only time they show the Vitals monitor is when a patient goes into cardiac arrest. (Advice: lay off your Dr. House addiction if you are about to go into surgery. You’ve been warned.) But those moments were notable exceptions to our paradoxical peace. It defied understanding, just like it’s supposed to.

Sam’s recovery has been quick and complete. Yes, he might need another operation in 5 to 10 years, but for now our little boy is happy totally fixed. Your prayers helped do all of this. They quickened the surgeon, protected the patient, and calmed our pounding hearts, even while his was totally still.