Double H Farm & Rescue

01/09/2026

When Mom says you can go to Grandma's house...

01/08/2026

"Ode to the feral women”

“My soul is not set fire by being the best home maker but by growing flowers and plants, shoveling dirt, snow or manure, breathing the cold fresh air, letting the sun beat on my face, and tending animals.
It is not that I can not cook and clean it’s that I desire to be else where.
I’ve struggled with the fact that I am well me. I am a feral woman. As much as I wish I could be the sweet and clean home maker, I am not.
I finally made peace with this when I saw a quote circulating around that said, “the term domesticated house wife implies there must be a feral one.”

It’s me and other women I know. I am and we are feral women.
We may not have perfect houses but we still make them a home. We may not clean the dishes right after every meal but we can sure cook a good meal. The laundry is lagging but at the end of the day everyone has something clean to wear. We may not be domesticated but it does not make us less.
If anything our strength is found as we carry feed sacks across our shoulders,as we till up dirt to plant gardens, as we end a life to provide food for our families all while we still carry the softness of a woman.
Here is to the feral women. May we be them, may we know them, may we raise them.”
-
Jameson Beckard

Photo: Hunter Hester riding through the Medina River in Bandera, TX, with her phone in her boot 😂

01/07/2026

While the picture is ambiguous, God's word is not. Each of us whether directly feeding the sheep (serving the animals at the rescue) or by donating time, materials, feed, or monetary donations, this is serving. Thank you for being a MAJOR part of who we are and what we have accomplished.

1 John 3:18. My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.

01/01/2026

On December 31st, we said goodbye to Sage. As one year closed and another prepared to begin, Sage’s passing reminded us how sacred every moment is and how deeply love roots itself into our lives here on the farm. Sage was part of our story, our rhythm, and our hearts—and that love will carry forward even in the ache of letting go.

As we step into 2026, we humbly ask for your prayers over our farm and rescue, and over every animal in our care. Please pray for health, safety, peace, and provision—for strength in the hard moments and joy in the small, beautiful ones. May this new year be blessed with healing, hope, and continued protection for all who call this place home.

Wishing God's blessings for you all.

12/29/2025

The parable of the lost sheep is one of the clearest windows into the heart of our Father. When it is read through the finished work of Jesus Christ, it stops being a lesson about human failure and becomes a revelation of divine love.

Jesus tells this story to people who believed God only responded to the obedient, the faithful, and the consistent. In one short parable, Jesus reveals a Father who moves first, loves deeply, and rescues completely.

A shepherd has one hundred sheep. One wanders away.

This matters. Jesus does not say the sheep rebelled. He does not say it planned to leave. He simply says it was lost. Lost sheep do not need lectures. They need rescue.

The shepherd leaves the ninety-nine and goes after the one.

This is not poor math. This is perfect love.

The Father does not measure worth by numbers. He does not weigh the inconvenience of pursuit. He does not say, “I still have plenty left.” One matters because all matter. The value of the sheep is not determined by its ability to stay close, but by the shepherd’s heart to keep it.

This is the finished work of Jesus.

Jesus is the Shepherd who left heaven to find humanity. He did not wait for us to find our way back. He came to where we were. He stepped into our darkness, our fear, our wandering, and our weakness. He carried us home on His shoulders.

Notice something beautiful. When the shepherd finds the sheep, he does not scold it. He does not demand an explanation. He does not make it walk back. He lifts it up and carries it.

This is grace.

The sheep contributes nothing to its rescue except being found. The entire burden is on the shepherd. The sheep rests while the shepherd rejoices. That is the gospel.

Jesus did not partially save you and then expect you to carry yourself the rest of the way. He finished the work. The cross is the Shepherd lifting the sheep. The resurrection is the Shepherd bringing it safely home.

Then the shepherd calls his friends and neighbors to rejoice. Heaven celebrates when one is found. Not when one improves. Not when one performs. When one is found.

This tells us something important about our Father’s character.

He is not irritated by wandering.
He is not disappointed by weakness.
He is not distant when you feel far.

He is a pursuing Father.

The lost sheep parable reveals that you are not saved because you stayed close. You are saved because He came close. You are not held by your grip on God. You are held by His grip on you.

And if you are reading this feeling tired, distant, unsure, or afraid, let this truth settle your heart.

You are not forgotten.
You are not overlooked.
You are not too far gone.

The Shepherd knows exactly where you are.
He has already come looking.
He carries you, even now.

Rest.
You are safe.
You are loved.
And you are already home in His heart.

12/26/2025

We had some help at the farm this afternoon with mucking and freshening stalls. Since we don't pay our volunteers, we compensated Tanner with a ride. I think she liked it a little.
😉😁

For those of you who know Ms Ann Deaton, this is her granddaughter. Thank you, Tanner, for your hard work.

(I hope this doesn't get us in trouble with Hadley!) 😁💕

12/26/2025

12/23/2025

More than all the blades of hay in this photo is how much my heart loves you, Benjamin. ❤️
"Keeper of the Goats"

12/22/2025

In the hush of the stable, the animals knew before the people did.

The ox felt it first—a warmth that eased his weary joints as he breathed out slow clouds into the cold night. He leaned closer to the manger, lowering his great head, sensing a peace deeper than sleep. Beside him, the donkey shifted softly, careful not to stir the straw. He had carried the young mother farther than his legs believed possible, and now his tired heart swelled with a quiet pride.

The sheep, pressed close at the doorway, fell silent. No anxious bleating, no restless hooves—only stillness, as if an unseen Shepherd had counted each one by name. Even the mice paused in their scurrying, whiskers twitching, aware that this child changed the shape of the world.

Above them, a camel knelt awkwardly outside, led by distant travelers who would come later. He gazed toward the light spilling from the stable, star-reflection shimmering in his dark eyes. Creation itself seemed to bow.

When the child cried—small, human, and new—the animals did not startle. They leaned in. Breath warmed the air. Hearts, wild and tame, beat in a shared rhythm.

For unto them, too, a Savior was born.

Not crowned, not armored, but resting among hay and hide and humble breath—Christ the Lord, come first to those who could offer nothing but presence, patience, and peace.

Luke 2:11

12/22/2025

You know you're doing something right when you're supported by local farm owners. Thank you to the owners of Roub Family Farm!

12/19/2025

Well said. ❤️‍🩹

This is what many people don’t want to deal with: aging, the slowing down and the extra steps it takes each day to keep an older horse going. It’s sitting in the barn long after the rest of the chores are done, waiting patiently while they work through their warm mash, knowing their teeth aren’t what they used to be and their body needs more time than it once did. It’s listening to the steady sound of them chewing while the world slows down around you. It’s realizing that what used to take minutes now takes patience.

It’s watching joints stiffen on cold mornings and standing there longer than planned, giving them time to loosen up before asking anything of them. It’s layering blankets just right, checking weather reports more closely than ever, adjusting and readjusting because comfort matters now more than convenience. It’s scooping supplements, soaking feed, scheduling farrier visits more carefully, and noticing every small change, because the small things matter most.

It isn’t always easy. Some days it’s exhausting. Some days it hurts to see the years written so clearly on a body that once felt unstoppable. But they gave you everything they had. They gave you their best year, their strength, their soundness, their heart. They carried you when they didn’t have to. They trusted you without hesitation. They showed up on days when you didn’t deserve it and forgave you when you made mistakes. They taught you patience, courage, and humility long before they ever needed it in return. They gave without question or complaint.

So when their steps slow and their needs grow, this is where we show who we really are. This is where love looks like time, like consistency, like choosing them even when it’s inconvenient. Love looks like staying late, spending more, doing more, and asking for nothing back.

The least we can do is give them patience, kindness, and dignity in their twilight years. To make sure they are warm, comfortable and safe. To let them age without fear or neglect, surrounded by the same care they gave us so freely.

Because they carried us.
Because they earned It
Because they deserve nothing less.