Simply put, my grandparents were the best 
friends I've ever had... 

 

My grandparents, Harley and Vera, were the 2 people who were always there for me.  Grandpa died at the age of 82 and grandma died when she was 96--I was sure she'd make it to 100.  They were married almost 60 years.

As a child, I did not always understand their advice (be it by word or example) but thankfully I held onto it and it has served me more than well as I have navigated through adulthood.

Grandma, grandpa, thanks for your unwavering love, caring and words of wisdom: 

If you don't respect yourself no one else will.

No one's perfect (even you).

A grudge is a very heavy thing to carry.

When it comes to clothing, more is always better.

Don't judge people, you never know what they 
are going through. 

Always tell the truth/be trustworthy.

Please and thank you will never go out of style.

Choose kindness. An act of kindness is never 
wasted no matter how small.

All life (human or otherwise) deserves love.

Apologize whenever necessary.

Always fight for the underdog.

People will treat you the way you allow them to.

Complaining doesn't change your situation, 
taking action does.

The world doesn't revolve around you--get
over it.

It's OK to be wrong--admit it when you are.


Speak when spoken to.

Forgiving someone doesn't cost a thing except
 maybe a bit of pride.

Expect the best from yourself/always do
 your best.

Always try a little bit of each type of food
on your plate when someone is kind enough
to cook for you.

Never give up.

You only have one life so make it count for something good.

Courtesy and good manners don't cost anything 
but a little effort. 

God made each of us for a reason so figure out why He put you here.

Most boys want to marry a lady so be one.

The friends you choose can change who you are for better or for worse so, choose wisely.

It's OK not to be OK sometimes.

You don't have to say (out loud) everything 
you're thinking.

Always stand up for what's right, even if you're 
left standing alone.

Money can't buy you true love or make you
truly happy.

Choose your spouse wisely and stick together 
through the hard times.

Always wait for the boy to open the door.

Sooner or later everyone will disappoint you--as you will them.  Get over it.

Life is unfair.  It just is.  But it's also beautiful.

You have tear ducts for a reason--use them, 
you'll feel better afterwards.

Love people not stuff.

Laugh often--don't take yourself too seriously.

Treat people the way you want to be treated.

Be thankful for what you have.

Everyone fails, when you do just pick yourself 
up and try again.

Worry gets you nowhere and is a total waste 
of time.

It's never OK to physically abuse a person or animal. 

Don't be afraid to dream big.  It's almost never 
too late to be what you might have been.

Don't procrastinate when it comes to important things.  You're not promised tomorrow.

You can't demand respect, you must earn it.

Forgive others even if they don't apologize.


No matter what you do there is always someone 
who will find fault with it.   

  When you give your word, keep it.

Don't pretend to be someone you aren't.

Spoken words can never be taken back.

Always check yourself in a full-length mirror 
before leaving the house.

Listen more than you talk.

If you want to have friends be friendly.

There is always someone worse off than you.
Always.

Don't let anyone or anything steal your joy.

Church is filled with imperfect people.
Attend regularly anyways.

Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2017
Jackie Deems

Grieving the Living 

I come from a dysfunctional family.  Extremely dysfunctional. There, I said it out loud.  Put it in writing.  Sent it into cyberspace for all to see, critique, condemn and criticize--to gasp at and gossip about...

Truth be told most everyone has at least a taste of dysfunction of sorts somewhere along the way in their life.  In my case, dysfunction was the way we were brought up and lived.  It was our non-stop steady diet.

My parents had 8 marriages between them which imprisoned my 3 siblings and I in a minefield of abuse, violence, alcoholism, anger, chaos and adult situations at a very young age.  Each of us chose a different way to survive our ever-changing circumstances which did not encourage or allow closeness as a family.  

As we got older we attempted to bond with the help of our spouses and children and it worked (at least on the surface) for a while. But after some time and once the false veneer had worn off on the edges we were still those kids our childhood had created struggling again to make it through each day.

For years we held onto Christmases together as a last semblance of family but even those were fraught with heated arguments before, during or after Christmas Dinner.  Each year my husband and I spent hours on the road getting to our Christmas gatherings foolishly expecting The Walton's Christmas.  Our Christmas reality included verbal machetes and bullets of unresolved anger. So we quit making the trip.

As is usually the case in families, we all did things that were wrong as we made our way through that minefield--we all stumbled, we all made bad choices, we all fell.  But some never forgave and the healing words, "I'm sorry" were left unspoken too many times for too many years.  And it became more important to be the one who was right than to be the ones who were together.

Ultimately the choices we made robbed future generations of joining in the lives of cousins, nephews, nieces, aunts and uncles. 

Determined not to allow my past to affect my future any more I closed off that part of my heart that was marked "family" and went on without them.  And as I was living this life without them for many years--a good life mind you--I did not do 2 things: grieve them and forgive them.  

I knew it was normal to grieve for the dead but I never realized there was also a time and place to grieve the living and all that was and will be missed: weddings, babies, graduations, birthdays, holidays and just the commonalities shared by families.  

Once I began to allow myself to grieve what I had never had and what likely will never be--a loving, healthy relationship with my family--I was able to let go of the past in a healing way.  It was a process, not a one time OK this is over kind of event.  There were times of sadness, frustration, anger, and other emotions that go along with the grief process.  And every once in a while there's still a little tugging at my heart for what was lost and a wish for what could be if only...

The forgiveness part has been harder for me, I think that's true for most of us. Forgiveness too is not usually a one time OK this is over kind of event.  We can all wax eloquently about how we were wronged and how we have the right to be angry--and we do for at least a short time.  But anger is not a place to live and usually hurts no on but ourselves and the ones who live closest to us. 

It also hurts our relationship with God.  And as I recite The Lord's Prayer I cannot frivolously skip over the part that says, "and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors" (Matthew 6:12). When I speak those words I am literally telling God that He should forgive me to the same extent I have forgiven others. A straight to the heart sobering statement if ever there was one.

How does forgiveness happen?  I suppose there are many ways to answer that question.  What works for one may not work for another.  But in my own simplistic way I just ask God to help me forgive--sometimes albeit grudgingly.  Simply asking God to help has quite simply helped me to forgive. 

And I also pray for the person I need to forgive.  Sometimes it starts out as a "You know I really don't want to pray good things for them, Lord, help me to see them as You do" prayer but somewhere along the way--sometimes much, much later--it turns into a true prayer of concern and compassion from a forgiving heart.

Out of the ashes of my past life God, in His mercy, has allowed the restoration of my relationship with my brother and his family.  These are relationships I cherish and am more than thankful for.  They have given me a sense of family even if it's just in a long distance sort of way.  I know they are there.  I know they care.  I know they understand the past.

I don't share this to gain pity but with the hope that it may help someone else in the midst of trying to grieve and forgive.  Truth be told, sooner or later that would be all of us. 

Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2017
Jackie Deems

All Is Calm, All Is Bright...

All is calm, all is bright doesn't exactly describe my life right now...

2016 has been an unusually difficult year. My husband lost his job of 30 years and has struggled to find new employment because of his age.  My Father passed away, and several other somewhat unexpected things happened that take time to work through and recover from. 

Those who know me best also know I really always try to be positive about life and just roll with the punches but my usual "Suck it up Buttercup" motto is a little difficult to live up to just now.  So, I went searching for that one little sliver of hope that seems to be somewhat elusively slipping around the next corner I am always running to turn.

My search is not too terribly long or arduous because it inevitably begins and ends with the same Book I have sought help, comfort and clarity from my entire life.  My search abruptly ends at one beautifully simple phrase:

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given" (Isaiah 9:6a).

How are these words helpful inserted into the dead center of the upside down world I find myself in?

The most obvious answer--at least to me--is that the coming of the Christ Child heralds hope.  In a world of darkness and despair and upside down "ness" there's hope.  In the midst of insecurity and anxiety--of loss of loved ones and loss of jobs--the Christ Child comes to give hope and comfort and stays long enough to also be the Savior of the world--through the sacrifice of His life on a cross.  And for all of us who are His true followers that's the best news in the history of all news.  Ever.

But as I look specifically at the Christmas Story, of the couple--Joseph and Mary--so much more than just a "simple" story is revealed.  This young couple was cast off by their families and all who knew them because Mary not only conceived a Child out of wedlock but this Child was not even Joseph's, her betrothed. 

I am impressed and astounded by their perilous journey to Bethlehem--miles and miles of nothingness riding on a donkey or walking--hunger and constant fatigue likely very familiar traveling companions.  Yet they miraculously pushed forward, knowing their part in God's plan was crucial.

I can't imagine how weary they were, how discouraged they should have been.  Did they wonder why us?  Did they fully understand what their purpose was?  Or did they want to give up, take another route because it was just too  hard?  We can't know those answers but we do know the outcome.  God told them what to do and they did it.  No matter how hard the journey--they did it. 

Then to arrive at their destination--tired--worn--seeking a place just to lay their heads only to find there was no place for them except a stable filled with animals.  Can you imagine how Joseph felt because he could not offer his Mary a soft, comfortable, private  place to give birth to the Child Who he would--with loving obedience--raise as his own?

There had to be a mixture of despair and comfort knowing they had--in spite of all the roadblocks in their life--been obedient.  There had to have been times when their journey was anything but calm or bright.

This lowly couple took on all the difficulties and trusted that the end of their journey would be worth it whether or not God revealed why He had chosen them or why it was that their unique journey was so very, very difficult.

Their willingness to obey and follow God's leading is the turning point for all mankind.  The fact that they did not travel the difficult road alone--that God was truly with them--gives me hope and comfort to know that the same God Who was with them on their journey is with me on mine.  

Although my unique journey cannot have the significance theirs did it has significance in His grand scheme of things and that makes it worth all the despair and hardship and beauty and pain.  Through it all, my part in God's plan is crucial too.  And so I-as all Christ Followers must--journey onward until He calls us Home.

Thank you, Lord, for that silent night, holy night so very long ago that lights our way to a calm and bright eternity with You.

Merry Christmas to you all!

Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2016
Jackie Deems

Patti's Way

Patti with her best sheep friend, Hope, this past Spring

Patti just slipped from this world as quietly as she had lived in it...

     Patti was about 10-weeks-old the first time I saw her.  She and her sister, Sweetie, were in a metal cage sitting in the sun with a tarp over it on a very hot day.  There was no water bowl in the cage--just 2 scared dehydrated pups.  My husband and I immediately knew we needed to take the girls home with us whether we wanted them or not--just to save their lives.

     From the beginning, Patti was much more aloof and adventurous than her sister and it wasn't long before I realized she did not desire human contact.  Her sheep family was all she wanted or needed.

As Patti grew, she seemed restless in the pasture with the other guard dogs often pacing the perimeter as if she just wanted to break free from her self-defined prison.  Then one day I came out to do morning chores and Patti was outside the pasture.  A "game" (according to Patti) of chase ensued and I, a 2-legged human did not come close to winning that game with a 4-legged dog.

     After I calmed down and assessed the situation I realized Patti was not leaving our property but was staying outside the fence where she could get to a predator before they could even enter the pasture.

     Patti and I lived amicably this way until she decided she should leave the farm and guard all the livestock in our neighborhood.  Unfortunately, some of our neighbors did not see a large dog "stalking" their animals as a positive thing and the general mindset of our neighbors who saw Patti as a threat to their livestock and their "Shoot--Shovel--and Shut Up" mentality was not going to end well for Patti.

     So I contracted someone to install electric fencing inside our existing woven wire fence to try and keep Patti in.  This "game" (according to Patti) worked initially until this very smart dog decided it wasn't fun any more.  Patti was soon on the loose again.

    Long story short, for her own safety, I had to let Patti go to an out-of-state farm (in Indiana) that seemed to have a better "keeping the dog in the pasture system" than I did.  That system did not last long and after numerous attempts by the owners of that farm to keep Patti contained she was back home again, leaving our pasture and faithfully "guarding" all the neighborhood livestock.

     After years of trying one unsuccessful thing after another to keep Patti contained, I allowed her to leave the farm once again for her own safety at another out-of-state farm (this time in Pennsylvania) with a better "keeping the dog in the pasture system" than I had.  She escaped that farm after a few minutes in their pasture.

Long story very short, after 3 trips to Pennsylvania, 2 years of running newspapers ads (and articles), many nightmares seeing Patti's haunted black eyes, and hundreds of dollars spent I got Patti back. 

     That was 3 years ago and Patti never left our farm pasture once after she got home.  Not one time. She clearly wanted to guard alone so that's what she did even though we had 4 other guards that could have helped her. 

      But Patti did not need help, as she'd tried to tell me for so many years before.  She took her job extremely seriously and did not want interference from other dogs or me either (actually).  As soon as this stubborn, sometimes-slow-to-get-it-human got that we were best of friends--well as best of friends I could be with Patti short of  being a sheep.  We lived in harmony--each appreciating the other's strengths and overlooking each other's weaknesses.  Mostly.

    So for the past 3 years of her life we lived more amicably than ever before and I watched this magnificent dog do some truly remarkable things. I finally let Patti be Patti--to do things her way.  If I saw her staying closer to a particular sheep it eventually became clear that sheep had a health issue unknown to me.  Patti saved many of my beloved sheep because she alerted me to their silent plight and I was able to intervene before it was too late.

     On the rare occasion when I would come out to do morning chores and find a dead sheep, Patti was dutifully laying next to it until I removed it from the pasture--her presence warding off perceived predators swooping in to take one of her sheep from her sight.

     I watched in awe as this remarkable dog interacted playfully with sheep that were very tough customers--sheep that would have easily intimidated any lesser guard dog.  The tougher the sheep, the more Patti worked to befriend it and make it her own.  Until she won them all over.

     I admired Patti as she raced a vehicle up or down our long farm lane--her beauty and blind abandon never lost on me. I saw her "smile" as she basked in the glow of who she was.  So finally (finally) we, Patti and I, were what we should have been from the beginning. 

  She was in such good health--so strong--I blindly assumed she would outlive all our other guards, that she'd be here much longer than she was.

     Until that awful gut-wrenching moment I could not find her and my heart raced as I looked for her and found her lifeless body curled up in her favorite resting place--it was not until that unbelievable moment I felt the total love I had (and will always have) for Patti.  I only wish I'd more completely understood and acknowledged that love so much sooner.

     This morning I watched "her" sheep file past the place Patti lay for the last time, each sheep sniffing the bare ground where their guard-friend had been.  Their solemn, quiet demeanor broke my heart for them and for me.

     I don't cry often on the farm--perhaps because I deal with so many, many animals and so many, many losses that I choke back the tears until they can't be swallowed any more and they escape my eyes, tumbling down my cheeks because I can't catch them all in time.  As I write this, the skies are pouring rain and Heaven's tears mingle with my own.  And once again I realize (and internalize) that we are all but dust -as the Bible says--us human and animal emotion-filled-pain-feeling creations of God.  We simply all must die.

     Patti's life and loss have taught me lessons I would have never learned in a lifetime of classrooms.  The joy of love and pain of loss mingle together in a waterfall of sorrow and hope that I will be a better person because of the lessons learned from a dog I once frustratingly struggled to understand and control.

     I often hear people say when they get to Heaven they are going to ask God some tough questions.  Honestly, I 've never had even 1 question in my mind I wanted to pose to God when I see Him face to face.

     Until today. 

My question?  Why God, did You make our beloved pet's life spans shorter than that of most human's life spans?

His answer (I believe)?  "To show you what My unconditional love for you feels like".

Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2016
Jackie Deems

Holding Out Hope

He was a tiny furry shivering bundle brought to me by 3 friends in the cold darkness of a Winter's Night.  This little one had been found in the middle of a dark road all alone and left to die.  Tears stained the faces of those who brought this little one to me signaling he'd already taken a piece of their hearts. I looked at this helpless kitten and immediately named him Hope.

Within an hour he and I were at the local vet office hoping for a good prognosis.  He was obviously unable to move his back legs, he had a severe upper respiratory infection, dangerously low body temperature and a myriad of other maladies.  But he was fighting--my how he was fighting.  An x-ray showed no obvious breaks and the vet sent us home with an arsenal of medications.  

At first I had to force-feed Hope which is normal for a cat with a severe upper respiratory infection--if they can't smell their food they just don't eat.  But within 2 days, he was eating on his own--3 cans of food a day.  Hope was incontinent so I expressed his bladder and assisted him in other ways to keep him comfortable.  In spite of  all his "ailments", Hope purred and meowed and kneaded the air when he heard or saw me.

I began searching online for any information I could find that would give me some look into Hope's future life as a paralyzed cat and found groups of folks who had successfully transitioned paralyzed cats into lives that were full of love and contentment for both the human "parents" and the affected cats. I watched videos of these cats climbing and playing and enjoying life as their humans watched in pleased amazement.

I began to hold out hope that a video of this little one would someday be added to those that had encouraged me as I began my journey into yet another kitty adventure God has sent my way.  Though others were already encouraging me to "let Hope go", I was holding out hope that this little one would beat the odds.

Perhaps Hope's story faintly echoed another so long ago that changed my life and heart forever: the diagnosis of my only full-term child, Richie, with a rare terminal disease that left him unable to walk, stand or do normal everyday baby things.  Though doctors told me there was no hope and that I should take my young son home and enjoy the time we had left, I decided to fight hard and it was then I first realized that as long as there is life, a mother's heart never loses hope.  Even when specialists strongly suggested I put my son in a nursing home to make it easier for me I cared for Richie and hung onto hope. 

 I dug in and steeled myself to go the distance with my son but even though I had prayed that distance would be a marathon it turned out only to be a short sprint. A little less than a year later and after doing everything humanly possible for my son he died and, for a time, so did my hope.  The darkness of my grief almost overwhelmed me but then, as time went on, slivers of hope forced their way into the cold dark shroud that encompassed my heart and soul and forced me to choose the path my life would take: should I settle for just being alive or should I really live?  By finding the courage to have hope again I could honor my son's life by living life to the fullest--by living for us both--by helping others find their hope again.  

And so, as I looked into the eyes of my little furry Hope, I knew he, like my son, was here for only a short season to love and learn from. Though I wanted it to be otherwise,  his time here was brief but just long enough to learn what God wanted me to feel and think and internalize and to share with others...

That no matter what, we must always hold out hope.  Hope is what makes us get up every day and believe that all things are possible even in the midst of the most difficult times of our lives.  And even when life seems to be so very unfair and things don't turn out as we wanted them to it is this continued hope that helps us to truly live--not just be alive.  

Holding out hope is never a waste of time or energy-neither is it foolish.  It's a God-given blessing to help us through this difficult, wonderful, painful, beautiful journey called life.

Shepherdess Blog

Copyright 2016

Jackie Deems

So God Created Rescuers...

When God looked out over the great expanse of the earth viewing all His creations 

He realized He had just 1 more to create.

He needed someone who would see past a raggedy outward appearance, look squarely into eyes filled with pain and connect with a wounded heart...

So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would say yes to those others had already said no to, someone who could help rekindle a  spirit crushed by abuse, neglect or apathy...

So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would have nerves of steel, an iron resolve to help no matter
the personal cost and, a heart overflowing with compassion... 

So God created rescuers. 

He needed someone who would fight for those who could not fight for themselves, someone
to speak for those with voices too small or weak to be heard...

So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would suffer continual loss and heartbreak, spend countless hours and days and weeks with little or no encouragement--even be ridiculed for what He had created them to do...

So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would be willing to go without, to give to those who have even less, to sometimes give every last cent  because another needs it even more...

So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would believe in miracles despite how grave the situation--to see past what others see as the obvious--to believe in what could be, to never give up hope...

So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would see the value in every living creature, whether they are covered with fur, wool, hair, scales, fins, feathers or...human skin...

So God created rescuers.

For in the end, when all is said and done--whether we rescue 1 or 101--be they animals or people, God is pleased with our efforts to help all His creations--each was important enough to Him to create.  And, whether our rescue efforts are "successful" or not, what matters most is the "trying".  For it's in the trying that God is so clearly seen here on earth.

Shepherdess Blog

July 2015

Copyright 2015 Jackie Deems

For the Love of Olivia

I just lost my dear Olivia...

The first time I saw her she was 10 weeks old and terribly shy--so much so that she hid from me whenever I entered the building she was in.  She and her 4 litter mates were going to be tossed out in the woods somewhere--like garbage--by their owner because he did not want any more cats.  I was able to intervene before he carried out his unbelievable (to me) plan and brought the 5 little ones into the rescue.

Each sibling was a different color and each had distinctively different personalities.  All were delightful. Olivia tugged at my heart from the moment I saw her.

I worked to earn Olivia's trust and, though it took some time, she eventually sought me out for attention. Last winter she bonded instantly to a gentleman considering her for adoption but he chose another cat instead.  My heart was heavy for this dear sweet girl who was always overlooked, I thought she'd finally found her "person" but sadly she was left behind.

So Olivia became one of my special girls.  I love all my rescues but some just tug more at my heart strings than others.  Livy was sweet and naive and purred nonstop once she found her purr...even purring for the vet techs when she got a routine blood test for FeLV/Fiv.

She loved climbing trees and spending the day at the pond and snuggling at night in her building with her brother, Nathanael.  When I picked her up, she relaxed in my arms and purred a deep contented "I love you" kind of purr.  She had finally come into her own, she knew she belonged here with me and was content with that.  As was I...

About a week ago some kind folks drove down from Columbus to look at our many rescues--hopefully to adopt 1 or more.  They had decided on Nathanael and Olivia and since they were going on vacation the day after visiting the rescue, decided they would pick the cats up this week.  Their home would have been a place Livy would have been loved and cherished, the perfect forever home for she and Nathanael.  I was so happy for them but knew I would also miss them both terribly.  But my goal is that each rescue here find their own home--have their very own family. Livy was finally going to have that.

This evening when I was doing chores I heard a cat crying out for me. I looked around and found Olivia displaying some neurological symptoms. Immediately I went to work giving her subcutaneous fluids while she purred and rubbed her head on me.  I realized there was something terribly wrong with her--more than I had the knowledge for--so called the vet and got Livy in the car.

Before we got to the clinic she was gone...

The vet assumed it was some sort of poison since Olivia was gone so quickly.  I use no chemicals--no pesticides--anywhere on the farm--ever.

So I am left, as we all are when we suddenly lose someone we love--be it  human or otherwise--asking how and why and what if...

The pain of loss oftentimes leaves us wondering if it's worth it--all  this loving and letting people and animals into our lives and hearts--then painfully having to let them go. 

Fortunately life eventually goes on and we open ourselves up to love again because deep down we know love is always worth it.  Though love and loss inevitably intertwine and (at moments) become one-- intersecting at the very point of our fragile hearts and weary souls--love is always worth it.

For when we stop loving we stop truly living...

And tomorrow, when I bury my sweet, loving Olivia, part of my heart will go with her into the grave--the part I willingly gave the moment I first saw her.

"But now abide faith, hope, love these three; but the greatest of these is love."  I Corinthians 13: 13

August 3, 2014
Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2014  Jackie Deems