Let God Take Care of the Sheep...

Hallie at the Manger

Christmas is always such a busy time for me as I'm sure it is for you.  Added to my usual daily "to do" list of caring for many sheep, rescue cats and dogs, a 34-acre farm, old house, etc. my Internet business booms at this time of year and everyone must have their order before Christmas--regardless of when they place it. It's easy to feel overextended, tired and wishing it was all over with. 

In my heart and mind I want to celebrate Christmas with as much joy and anticipation as when I was a child and could swear I heard Santa on the roof. But instead, I seem to anticipate a much needed rest instead of the arrival of the Christ Child and all His coming meant and means to the world today.

Each year I "wait" for Christmas to happen in me and it always does.  It may come when I hear an  unexpected Christmas Carol that sparks a warm memory from past Christmases or it could even be a card from a friend updating me on all the happenings in their family that year.

This year I was beginning to think I was just too tired for Christmas to happen in me.  Until today, when some wonderful ladies from my church led the precious children in a Christmas presentation featuring angels with halos (some were crooked), little shepherd boys in bathrobes, and Mary and Joseph--both young children themselves.  Of course, there was also Jesus who "Mary" (my little friend Melissa) told me before their presentation was really her sister Hallie's baby doll named Toby.

As the children sang I could feel my heart filling with joy and anticipation as I waited for Mary and Joseph to take their place beside Jesus in the stable.  As Mary and Joseph made their way to Jesus  tears started to fill my eyes and Christmas came to my heart. Such a simple thing, but so profound...a stable, a baby--Emmanuel--God with us!

Then one of the little shepherd boys said, "Let's go see Jesus, God will take care of the sheep".  Take care of the sheep?  Yes, He will.  Yes, He does. Though I literally care for sheep I realized in that moment I also have many other "sheep" (things) I feel I must care for--things that cause me to stress and not fully enjoy the life God has given me.  Things I don't let God handle, areas in my life I want control of, things that keep me from allowing Christmas to happen in me every single day. Things that take my focus off  going and seeing Jesus.

If I keep my focus on the "sheep" in my life, instead of on Jesus, then I don't need God, I don't need the manger or the promise that God will never leave or forsake me--that He will be there and help me no matter what life brings.

But if I go see Jesus every day and let God take care of my "sheep", my life would truly be His instead of mine. And that's how it's supposed to be.

Merry Christmas to you all!  I'm going to go see Jesus and let God take care of my "sheep".  Will you join me?



Shepherdess Blog   
December 22, 2012
Copyright 2012 Jackie Deems


Thanks to Julie, Jen, Anne, Sherry, Geoff, Nate, the children and everyone else who helped Christmas happen in me today!

Hallie is pictured next to the manger with Jesus, played by Toby her baby doll.






 

Lost Children...

Their likenesses do not appear on grocery store milk cartons.  Their young, innocent faces will not be seen on homemade posters in convenience stores.  Their parents will not wait for long anxious hours by the phone--pleading to God for word, any word, that their precious child has been found.

For their children have been lost. Not to a kidnapper or child custody battle gone awry.  Their children have been lost in car accidents, to terminal illness, suicide, murder, drug overdoses, through miscarriage, stillbirth and a myriad of other happenings that don't immediately make sense--and probably never will.

Words uttered to the parents by others, "He's in Heaven now," "It's God's will, you know," "All things work together for good..." pierce the very armor that has already begun to encompass their shattering hearts.  And they try, really try, to understand something that cannot ever be explained to a soul forever seared by grief.

For not only was their child lost--so was their future and all the images and hopes and dreams that go along with raising beloved children who were supposed to outlive them.

And so they dream...

Make believe children are bundled into woolen scarves and hats and mittens. Imaginary sleds drag heavily behind children snow pixies. The faint scent of wet wool and hot chocolate with marshmallows follows the sodden pathway of excited bundles of energy with red cheeks and noses and so many stories to tell.  And in the darkness when all is still, ghosts of snow angels flicker in the moonlight over diamond-dust covered hills.

Invisible artwork and Mother's Day Cards cover the refrigerator.  Dandelion and weed bouquets are placed proudly in a mayonnaise jar on the kitchen table with the words, "I'll always bring you flowers, mom".  But they wither and die and, like so many other empty promises, become only as dust carried away by the winds of time.

Noisy slumber parties and pizza at midnight. "Can I borrow the car keys and a couple dollars?" High School Graduation--a bride, a groom.  Grandchildren.

First teeth and first kisses, skinned knees and bruised egos--all become words with no motion.  The natural rhythm of life has been forever interrupted--and forever lost.

Or at least that's what our human frailness believes in the most desolate moments of our souls. But those very moments--when touched by God's never-changing promises--bear a truth that must be heard and spoken and believed by even the most shattered of hearts.

The frantic pleas of parents with earthly vision have been forever heard and answered.  Our children, their children, those precious lost children, have been found by the One Who loves them most.

And in those moments on earth when all is still, He carries them on wings of angels over diamond-dust covered hills to a place illuminated by His love...

A place called Heaven


Shepherdess Blog   
December 14, 2012
Jackie Deems  Copyright 1995

Dear Friends,

I felt an urging from the Lord to find "Lost Children" a few days ago and use it as a blog entry.  As life would have it, I have just been too busy to publish it here until now.  It was written for all of us who have lost our precious children from this earth.  Given the events of today in Connecticut, I thought it fitting to dedicate it to all those families going through the unspeakable grief of losing their beloved little one.  I wish I could do more...

 

 

 His Eye Is In The Kitty...

 

 

 

 

 

Pumpkin waiting for me to come outside

The little 3-year-old girl had been asking her parents for a black and white kitty for over a year and they finally thought she was old enough to care for just the right kitty.  It had to be black and white (according to the little girl) and it had to love her.  It had to be great with kids (according to the parents) and use a litter box. 

And so their search at shelters and pounds began, a journey that took them to places in several counties and all over the internet.  Each time their journey ended with disappointment and they wondered if they'd ever find the perfect cat for them.

Every day the little girl would say, "Is today the day we find my cat?"  Every day the answer to her question was always "no".

Then one day the little girl's mom looked on Petfinder.com and saw a cat that sounded too good to be true. His name was Pumpkin and the information provided by the rescue he lived in (our CATS Rescue) said he was great with kids.  And, he was black and white!

Mom emailed me and then called to find out more about Pumpkin.  It was one of those moments when you know something was meant to be and both of us realized that.  Mom, dad, the little girl and her baby brother wanted to come visit Pumpkin as soon as they could. 

I rescued Pumpkin and his 3 litter mates 1-1/2 years ago when they were just 6 weeks old. In fact, I even wrote one of my blogs about that experience, "Who's Rescuing Who?".  Pumpkin has always been, as my friend Mary Ann says, "Attention Needy" meaning you just can't give him enough attention. 

Since there are so many cats in our rescue, Pumpkin has been living outside for a few months(the younger healthy cats have buildings they can go into with heat lights, heated waterers, soft, warm beds, etc.)  But Pumpkin always wants to be with a person--any person--regardless of the weather. When we sit at the kitchen table he sits on the window ledge and looks in at us.  When I open the front door this little black and white kitty looks up at me, big eyes pleading with me to come out and pet him.

Pumpkin did live indoors for a time but loved being outdoors too so this Summer Pumpkin got to experience climbing trees, chasing leaves and playing until he was too tired to play.  He liked being outside almost as much as he liked being with people. Almost...

Because of his intense need for interaction, that I knew I could not satisfy, I decided the most loving thing to do for Pumpkin was to find him a home with a family that was just his--a place where he would get all the attention he deserved and craved.  So, I listed him on Petfinder.com

It's much easier for a kitten to find a home than an adult cat and I prayed for Pumpkin (as I do for all my rescues) that the perfect family would adopt this special little black and white kitty.  When I got the call from the mom looking for a friendly black and white kitty that was good with small children I knew my prayers for Pumpkin were answered.

When the young family arrived at our farm Pumpkin was waiting at their van before they could even open the doors.  The little girl burst out of the van saying, "There's my cat, Pumpkin" and with those words picked him up in her arms (upside down) and hugged him as tightly as she could while Pumpkin joyfully kneaded the air above him. It was love at first sight for them both.  It only took the skeptical parents a few moments to recognize Pumpkin was the cat they'd they'd been looking for--the cat they thought didn't exist.

As they walked around our farm looking at the other animals Pumpkin walked beside the little girl like a devoted dog. If Pumpkin got even an inch away from the little girl she would start to cry because she thought he was going to run away and she would not be able to take him home. It brought tears to my eyes as I saw him responding to someone he just met but somehow seemed to know would be his future.

When the short visit was over the little girl said, "Let's go home Pumpkin". And they did.  And I have to admit, I have shed more than a few tears because I miss Pumpkin.  But just today I received an email from the mom and the tears I have shed because I miss Pumpkin were replaced with tears of joy for a little black and white kitty who has found the family he so desperately wanted and deserved.

The email said:  "Thank you again for choosing us to adopt Pumpkin. He is working out better than I could have ever hoped. He is truly a special cat and we all love him. He loves the kids and the kids love him.  He sleeps with my daughter every night in her bed. I almost think he thinks he's her protector at night.  Because of him she is now sleeping in her own bed (which we could never get her to do).  Pumpkin is getting quite comfortable here and seems very happy."

As I end this story, I realize I am thankful for so many things on so many levels regarding Pumpkin.  Obviously, I am thankful for this family who did not give up looking for the perfect kitty for their daughter.  I am thankful God directed them to find Pumpkin, on a website that represents hundreds of thousands of adoptable rescue pets.

I am also thankful Pumpkin's story gives me hope that there is the perfect someone out there for every dog or cat or any other animal that needs to be rescued. They just need to find each other..

Most of all I am thankful for and to the God Who cares about what I care about--even if it's just a little back and white kitty named Pumpkin.


"His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me..."  A song written by Civilla D. Martin (1905)


"Are not two sparrows sold for a cent?  And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father."

"Therefore do not fear, you are of more value than many sparrows."
Matthew 10: 29,31


Shepherdess Blog 
December 3, 2012
Copyright 2012  Jackie Deems



 

A Simple Act of Love...

One of the pups that was going to be shot

As I opened my van door I heard a sound that was a cross between a human scream and a howl.  "What is that sound?" I asked the man who greeted me at his driveway.  "Oh, that's a momma dog".

"What's wrong with her, I asked?"  "I don't know, she's always like that" he answered.  He then turned and asked his young children if they'd given the dog any water that morning. The answer was no.  It was now almost 6:00 p.m.

I asked if I could see the dog and they lead me to a  dark, dirty barn.  A bone thin little black dog was chained in the building nearly choking herself to death--standing on her back legs--as the taut chain would not give in to her frantic demands to free her.  She was trying to reach her puppies that were being kept a few feet away--just close enough for her to see them but just far enough so she couldn't reach them.

"Maybe she's hungry, we ran out of grain (dog food) a while back and just got some today," the man said.  A nursing mom, no food, no water, her pups out of reach--a stinking, cold cement floor for a bed--the screaming howl made sense to me now but not to the man who could have cared less that just inches away from him an animal was in anguish.

I choked aside a  mixture of disgust and anger and prayed to God I could hold my tongue just seconds before the man's last cruel, unbelievable verbal blow, "Well, if I can't get rid of them I'll just shoot them" he said--as he cocked the trigger on an imaginary gun and pointed it at the momma's head.  His 6 children stood by with macabre grins on their dirty faces. In a burst of  "humanity" he told me he'd give them to me for free. Quite honestly, at that moment, I would have taken all the money I could find to get those dear dogs out of there.

I took momma and 2 of the 3 pups as fast as I could get them loaded into the van.  The last pup he would not give up because it was pretty and he wanted to keep her. The cycle of unwanted puppies would continue in this poor little girl I had no choice but to leave behind. My heart cried out to her but I knew that even if I could not get her now, she too would eventually become a nuisance and unwanted and I could get her then.  If she survived--she and the other animals that live in this tortorous place. 

I talked to the man about having the remaining puppy spayed so he would not have to worry about unwanted puppies in the future.  "How much does something like that cost?"  I told him about a low cost spay/neuter clinic and even offered to take the puppy to the clinic.  He was going to have to think about it.

So I left that puppy behind and once I got in the van and headed home I just sobbed.  I'm not one who cries often but I cried for those animals left behind and those I was taking to safety.  I asked God to help those I had to leave at that place and, as what had just happened really settled into my heart, I cried for the unknown number of animals that were in that same desperate situation all across the world.

And then I asked myself how did we, as humans, reach this point?  When did life--albeit animal life--become so worthless?  How did we get to a place where we are so desensitized to suffering that seeing a living creature in agony does not touch something in us?  Where does someone go in their minds to make it OK to basically torture, abuse or neglect any creature--animal or human--God has created?

I don't know that anyone can explain it simply except to simply say that though life holds many wonderful things it also holds some not so wonderful things.

And just when I was sure my heavy heart was forever changed from this awful experience God proved to me anew this morning that the wonderful things usually are not too far around the corner from the not so wonderful ones...

As I went out to check my dear rescues I saw momma taking mouthfuls of her dog food and laying them tenderly next to her babies. Though she had been almost starved to death, she showed more compassion, humanity and love than she had been shown all her life.

That simple act of love from a  sweet spirited dog broke my heart and healed it at the same time.

Thank You Lord for the lesson taught by one simple gesture of one simple little dog.



P.S. I will be seeking to have all the animals legally removed from this "home". Please pray for those left behind.


Shepherdess Blog
November 8, 2012
Copyright 2012  Jackie Deems



 

 

 

The Things That Did Not Happen...

 

We were recently blessed to be able to take a time away from the farm and decided (after visiting my dad and his wife) that we'd head for The Great Smokey Mountains near Gatlinburg, TN.

The fall foliage was fabulous and the scenery was breathtakingly beautiful.  The little village we stayed in was quaint, very quiet and relaxing--the perfect place for two people to relax who are always running at 110 miles per hour.

We both love to hike but after seeing one too many warning signs about recent bear attacks and increased bear activity in the mountains we decided to stay off the trails and tour the area via car--not quite as exciting as hiking, but much safer.  We must have stopped hundreds of times to take pictures and enjoy God's beautiful creation.

Our time away ended much too quickly--as it always does--and as we packed the rental car the morning we were to leave for home we saw that something had damaged our car. Now, when I say damage, I mean: back car fenders were ripped out of their pop rivets and hanging down, the back bumper was literally pierced through in several places and there were scratches all over the car.  Our car had been attacked by a bear--a not so happy bear.

It took a little while to sink in but once we realized what had happened we packed the car--really, really quickly, looked nervously over our shoulders and prayed.  We weren't sure if "Mr. Happy" was still in the area and we were taking home lots of leftover food we hadn't eaten on our trip--food that a bear would really be happy to devour.

My husband got a little grumpy as visions of dollar signs and explaining to the rental car company that a bear attacked our car danced through his head.  "It's kind of like telling the teacher the dog ate your homework", I said to my husband trying to lighten the mood in the bear-attacked car.  But, as he saw dollar signs as he thought about the attack, I felt God telling me, "I had  my hand on you and protected you from something really bad".

Though my husband wasn't ready to hear what God had said to me, I started thinking back over the years and many of the times God had kept situations in my life from being worse then they were.  No, I have not led a charmed life, but each instance I recalled in those moments could have been much more damaging or impacting then they were.  I have had many difficulties--yes--but I could always understand that God's hand was on me and that He kept me from things that would have been unbearable.

I was recently talking to my wonderful friend, Mary Ann, and recounted some of the things in my life that had been most difficult.  I ended up saying to her that yes, difficult things had happened, but I was most thankful for the things that had not happened.  She looked at me and said something to the effect of, "Most people think only of the bad things that happen and focus on them instead of looking at what could have been and being thankful to God that those things did not happen". 

Truthfully, it has taken me some time and space away from many circumstances to develop an attitude of thanking God for things that did not happen.  I feel like I am still a novice at it, sometimes, but I make it a point to try and give things back to God when I know my human tendency is to hold on to them, internalize them, and make them part of who I am instead of them being just something that happened to me (that could have been much worse).

Everyone has trials and tribulations--it's part of being human.  Many of the things that happen to us, especially as children, are not physically in our control.  How we handle those times (as adults) is in our control. What we do about and with those times makes the difference between allowing something to control and divert our life's mission or allowing that very difficult thing to become a place we can meet others at and allow God to touch and heal and become more usable to Him. 

It's a conscience choice we make each day--but only a choice (I believe) we can make with God's continual intervention and our continual prayers to Him.  With practice and God's love and guidance, we can be thankful for the things that did not happen...


Shepherdess Blog
 October 30,2012
Copyright 2012 Jackie Deems

Listening

I have been rescuing animals as long as I can remember & can still recall with such clarity the neighborhood children bringing me little hurt birds to "fix".  I may have been all of 5 years old when I tried to help my first little sparrow patient.

Over the years my rescue efforts have ebbed & flowed & my rescued animals have included: llamas, sheep, chickens, goats, birds, snakes, dogs, cats, chipmunks & an assortment of other creatures. 

It appears I was born this way... (no reference to Lady GaGa's song I assure you).

Rescue work is emotionally, physically & financially draining & there have been times I wanted to just walk away from it all.  The fact that so many people are very vocal about how they think animals should just fend for themselves or that those of us who take part in rescue are somewhat less than sane (or intelligent) makes what I do even more difficult at times.

It can be hard living in a society that believes if you rescue a horse, it's a noble cause but if you rescue a cat, well it's not so very noble & perhaps you should get a real life doing something meaningful.  As my nephew Nathan put it, "Why don't you get a real job?"

Fortunately God has shown me over the years that no matter what I do someone won't like or approve of it.  He also recently showed me, once again, that what I really need to focus on in life is what He has given me to do for however long He has given me to do it in regardless of what others think of my decisions.

This latest God lesson came to me in the form of a kitten, yes a kitten!  What a surprise...

I already have quite a rescue cat collection on our farm & was lamenting to God about how much work it was, how expensive it was, how I could not take in even 1 more cat, etc.  Immediately after my complaint I got a phone call about a kitten that was in danger & was asked to take it in.  It was me or nothing & doing nothing likely meant death for the kitten. 

I immediately got stressed & angry & complained out loud about how people need to take care of their own animals, how it's infair that I have to go around cleaning up after everyone else's "messes" & other righteous anger stuff--all the while feeling totally justified in my complaining.

My quick (sarcastic) "Thanks a lot God" seemed justified too. After all, I had just finished complaining to God expecting Him to fix things quickly, easily, painlessly & in my way.  Getting a phone call about yet another kitten hardly seemed like an answer or at least like an answer I was going to accept.  It seemed more like a cruel joke.

After my pity party was over God said something to me.  No, it was not audible but it came straight from His heart to mine & there was no mistaking it was from Him (it certainly wasn't from me).

In essence He said,  "Jackie, have you ever thought that maybe I am bringing these things (namely homeless cats) into your life?  Have you ever thought it's My plan for you?  Who do you think made you the way you were before you were even born?  Are you going to trust what I have in store for you or are you going to keep fighting against how I made you to be & what I made you to do?  Because of these animals you will come into contact with people you would have never met elsewhere.  Tell them about Me & bring them into your life as you do the cats.  That's My plan for you."

I can tell you that at that moment all the anger, stress & any negative thoughts about where I was at in life just vanished.  I knew that the very thing He had for me to do (at least for now) was what I was already doing & that I had His blessing & assurance it was going to be OK.  He had given me the faith to press on whether or not anyone else understood & the strength to stand up against the naysayers who would discourage me. I did not need their acceptance, I had His!

I realize now He had tried speaking to me about this very thing before but I had not been listening. Instead I had been complaining or too busy to hear or maybe even not any more accepting of what He wanted of my life than general society is. 

I can also tell you that in that moment when He spoke & I listened my life has changed & I am different than I was.  And I know without a doubt that the God of yesterday, today & tomorrow still speaks to us today.  All we have to do is listen.



          Angel, 1 or our most recent rescue kittens


Shepherdess Blog
September 7, 2012
Copyright 2012 Jackie Deems

Beatitudes For Those Who Comfort...


It has been a while since I've written a new blog, so much has happened in my life in such a short time.  The upcoming summer seemed full of promise and I had a list of projects I wanted to accomplish.

The loss of my beloved nephew, Phillip, has hit me hard.  There are so many people who are grieving Phillip's loss, so many whose journey through grief has just begun.

I continue to hear that, for some on this difficult journey, this time is being made even more difficult by those around them--those who, as they are trying to be helpful--inflict further wounds.

When I lost Richie, my only full-term child, much of the battle I had to fight was with those who would be comforters.  These people would not have intentionally hurt me, I know this, but their words stung almost as sharply and cut so deeply as if they were intended to hurt.

None of us are comfortable with grief.  In fact, many of us run from it or even just ignore it hoping it will go away if left unacknowledged.

But grief gets a firm hold and means to stay on in our hearts.  And, it should stay, actually, at least for a time.  Though it should not be a permanent guest that refuses to leave, it is a necessary part of living and loving and losing. 

After my son died I struggled with many things people--well-meaning people--said to me in their attempt to make me "better" and to get me to return back to "normal".  So I wrote "Beatitudes For Those Who Comfort" hoping it would be instrumental in helping would be comforters as they came alongside those who are grieving which also would help the bereaved in return.

I dedicate it now to Taylor, Phil's fiance, his family, those of us who love and miss Phil so very much, all those out there who are grieving a loved one's death or imminent loss, and those who would be comforters.  May you find comfort in the arms of the God of all comfort!


               BEATITUDES FOR THOSE WHO COMFORT

Blessed are those do not use tears to measure the true feelings of the bereaved.

Blessed are those who stifle the urge to say, "I understand", when they don't.

Blessed are those who do not expect the bereaved to put into the past someone who is still fresh in their hearts.

Blessed are those who do not always have a quick "comforting" answer.

Blessed are those who do not make judgments on the bereaved's closeness to God by their reaction to the loss of their loved one.

Blessed are those who hear with their hearts and not with their minds.

Blessed are those who allow the bereaved enough time to heal.

Blessed are those who admit their uncomfortableness and put it aside to help the bereaved.

Blessed are those who do not give unwanted advice.

Blessed are those who continue to call, visit and reach out when the crowd has dwindled and the wounded are left standing alone.

Blessed are those who know the worth of each person as a unique individual and do not pretend they can be replaced or forgotten.

Blessed are those who realize the fragility of bereavement and handle it with an understanding shoulder and loving heart.


Shepherdess Blog
July 18, 2012
Jackie Deems Copyright 2012
Beatitudes For Those Who Comfort
Jackie Deems Copyright 1987

How Do You Say Goodbye?

 

 

 

I remember getting the phone call on October 1, 1987 from my sister, Diana.  She had given birth to her 3rd son, Phillip, and all was well.  I drove the 6 hours to where she and her family lived and spent a couple weeks taking care of Phillip's brothers and helping my sister out around the house and with her new baby.

As my nephews got older, they would come and spend some time with us on the farm each summer.  Phil continued to visit us alone (without his brothers) every summer until he started college.  Each year I would say, "Phil, this will probably be your last year to visit us, you're getting older now and other things will become more important (understandably so)". His reply would always be, "Aunt Jackie, you always say that but I will always come back to see you.  Someday, when I'm out on my own, I want to live half way between you and Uncle Chuck and my mom and dad so I can come and visit you all the time". 

On May 16, 2012, I got another phone call about Phillip--one I honestly didn't see coming...

Phillip had been killed while riding his motorcycle.

For the past 2 weeks I have struggled with the emptiness in my life only my nephew could fill and wrestled with how to say goodbye to a 24-year-old young man who seemingly had his whole life ahead of him.  He was to be married October 5, 2012 to his childhood sweetheart, Taylor, a girl he met when he was only 15 and she was 13 years old--their wedding website still counting down the days until they would be married.  The sadness I feel for her and others close to Phil is almost overwhelming at times.

Perhaps it's more difficult to say goodbye to someone who should have said goodbye to you first.  Maybe just the sudden loss is harder to believe than if he'd been ill.  Whatever the case, saying goodbye is never easy and in this case, at least in my heart, is not necessary.

Why?

Because I can still recall with such clarity:

The little boy filled with such joy and awe over the simplest things--doing farm chores early in the morning, "helping" me make pancakes (by flipping them for me), the funny things he would say and do that made him Phillip...

The teenager spending hours on the phone with his first and only girlfriend, watching 50's monster movies together until the wee hours of the morning while we ate much too much candy...

The young man who became a police officer so he could protect those who could not protect themselves...

These and so many other memories of Phillip will be part of me until I join him in heaven someday.  So, for me to say goodbye just does not make sense.  Maybe it's just my way of coping with his loss for now.  Maybe it's because, as I get older, I understand more and more how all our lives are but a mist, a vapor that is here and gone before we know it.  Maybe it's Phil's lasting legacy to me to live life to the fullest--which he most certainly did.

How do you say goodbye to someone who is still alive in your heart?  You don't...you just don't...



Shepherdess Blog
May 30, 2012
Copyright Jackie Deems

When There Seems To Be No Miracle

I asked God to heal my son, surely He would do as I asked...

I couldn't believe that after a miscarriage and almost 3 years of trying to conceive again, God blessed me with a healthy, happy baby boy, we named Richie.  He was my whole world and I loved being a mother.

Richie had big blue eyes that expressed delight in everything he saw and experienced.  It seemed like everywhere we went someone stopped us and commented on how beautiful he was and how healthy he looked.

I remember the day when that all changed and my joy turned to unspeakable anguish.

Richie was taking his nap and I spent that time looking through his baby book which included professional pictures of him that were taken every month. As I lovingly looked through those pictures, a sense of fear suddenly gripped me and I realized that in each progressive picture I was actually giving Richie more head support (behind the scenes) instead of less.  He should have been getting stronger, not weaker, as he got older.

I immediately called Richie's pediatrician and told the nurse what I had noticed.  The sense of urgency in her voice as she said, "Bring him in immediately", made me realize this was not just an overprotective mother's imagination.

I woke Richie up, wrapped him in a blanket and drove as fast as I could to the doctor's.  They took him in immediately. As the doctor examined my little boy he said he wanted to do some bloodwork.  When I asked him why he said he wanted to rule out Muscular Dystrophy.  My mind went to work overtime, wasn't Muscular Dystrophy the disease they had that telethon for each Labor Day Weekend? 

Flashes of children in wheel chairs, on respirators--children who did not have long lives--that's what Muscular Dystrophy was.  How could my blonde-haired, blue-eyed son--the one who was always being stopped by strangers because he was so beautiful and healthy looking--have Muscular Dystrophy?

As I waited for what seemed like hours, I prayed and asked God for a miracle  "Dear Lord, please don't let Richie have Muscular Dystrophy". 

I was so engrossed in my plea to God I didn't hear the doctor come back into the room.  "Preliminary results say we aren't dealing with MD.  I believe the next step should be to take him to Children's Hospital in Chicago".  The doctor was to call and make the appointment and then get back with me. 

I left the doctor's office and went immediately to my good friend, Lisa's, house, all but collapsing in her kitchen as I stumbled through the door with Richie.  I saw the look of disbelief in her eyes as I told her, "The doctor tested Richie for Muscular Dystrophy but preliminary results seem to be pointing in another direction".

We both cried, hugged each other and held Richie.  Then we prayed to God for a miracle.

The 3-1/2 weeks it took for me to get Richie into Chicago's Children's Hospital seemed like a year.  If I just knew what it was I could deal with it--fight it head on.  After all, if it wasn't the worst--Muscular Dystrophy--how bad could it be?  Once we got to that hospital, and all the test results were in, I would have given anything to go back to that time before I knew what was wrong with my precious son.

He was given a death sentence.  The disease he had, Werdnig-Hoffman, was a rare, genetically transmitted disease for which there was not only no cure but no treatment protocol either. The doctor's parting words, "Take him home and enjoy the time you have left with him", seemed like they were being said about someone else.  How could my blonde-haired, blue-eyed, healthy looking boy be dying?

Even though there was no plan of treatment for my son's disease I spent endless hours in the library looking for answers in medical journals (this was long before computer search engines).  I also made phone call after phone call trying to find any agency that could help my son with therapy, treatments--anything.  I had to fight for my son, he could not do it for himself.

Above all I prayed and asked God continually for a miracle--a miracle of healing for my son.

I lived and breathed finding a way for my son to survive.  At night I even dreamed of ways, impossible ways, that I could have kept this from happening. 

For almost a year we struggled, my little boy and I, to keep our now almost inevitable parting from becoming a reality.  Long hospital visits were the norm and I gladly spent endless  days and nights in the hospital just to be close to my little one. If ever two hearts beat as one it was during that brief time we had together as earthly mother and son.

For almost a year I loved more intensely, fought more fiercly, prayed almost unceasingly than any other time in my life.  Yet, there seemingly was no miracle.

I was in his hospital room the morning my son quit breathing.  I refused to leave the room and prayed as the hospital personnel tried to resuscitate him. I willed him to live and I prayed again for a miracle.  Then his heart monitor came to life.  My miracle had happened. I silently thanked God.

Richie was moved into PICU and after all the monitors were hooked up I stood next to him holding his hand.  As I looked into those big blue eyes I could tell my son was not completely there.  I don't know how else to explain it but he seemed to be hovering between earth and heaven. There was a dimness in his eyes and a faraway look I had never seen before.  When he closed his eyes I knew he was gone. 

It was at that moment I knew that--for almost 2 years--I had been living a miracle.  The miracle of having my son, Richie.


For Richie
August 26, 1978-April 3, 1980

Fly high my little one,
Though you soar on broken wings,
Weighed down by handicaps,
And other earthly things.

Fly high my little one,
Till you reach heaven above,
Where every broken thing,
Is mended by His love.


Shepherdess Blog
April 11, 2012
Copyright 2012 Jackie Deems











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