Making Tracks

Last week there was an article written by an Autism group disparaging PANDAS disease and all the heroic researchers and doctors who are fighting for our children. They also portrayed us as "profiteering" and practicing "medical quackery" with a link to a news story about our family and donkey milk. The editor added a lovely sardonic tweet about donkey milk to top it off.

This article is particularly ironic right now. 

"Profiteering" isn't exactly the word that comes to mind.

"Medical Quackery"? Our resident Medical Quack is taking appointments, and this duck quacks for free.

We've had entire hate pieces written about us, our motives, our family, written by people that never bothered to actually call and talk to us, because apparently it's easier to smear someone from behind a keyboard when you've didn't take the time to get to know them.

We've also had incredible, sweet, honest, truth-sharing TV news pieces done by real reporters, who shared our real story, with honesty and integrity.

But for some reason, this little blurb written by a writer with an agenda got to me. 

This week we had a Serbian gentleman come to our farm, all the way from Milwaukee. He picked up milk for multiple families he knows with sick children. He filled his giant cooler to the brim with all the donkey milk he could fit in his trunk. He told me his story about how, as a child in Serbia, donkey milk cured his chronic cough. He didn't laugh or scoff or look at us like we were crazy. In fact, he didn't even ask me for any "Medical Quackery" advice. He already knew, firsthand, what donkey milk had done for him. He thanked us, and drove 17 hours back to Milkwaukee, to give milk to those families that needed it.

Then sweet Suzanne @infinityofinspiration shared about donkey milk and it's amazing benefits, because, as she said "in our culture we know these things, and I read a lot." (She's from the Middle East, now home in the USA.)

And then I spoke to some international students at OSU, one who grew up in Mexico, where she said they use donkey milk for coughs and believe in it's effectiveness.

And I got this email...that we’re reaching people around the world, and maybe we can help this future MD help more children with donkey milk.

But somehow, I focused on that negative nasty blurb. I chewed on it until it lost all it's horrible flavor, and then I chewed some more. Because, like my famous pot roast made from grassfed longhorn, I just couldn’t swallow this one.

They say your brain makes pathways, and the thoughts we think make those paths deeper and deeper until it's trained to negative throughts, or the opposite.

Our cats have done the same thing. They've worn a path from our front porch to the playhouse. The playhouse is their place of food and shelter. The front porch is their place of comfort and snuggles and sneaking inside with giggling girls while mommy is busy.

The funny thing is, when one of those cats gets scared, even if she could run straight to the playhouse, even if it's the most direct path and the shortest, she runs over to the well worn kitty path, and then takes a right to run home.

When I was choosing to dwell on that nasty piece, I was beating a path in my brain to a house I'd rather not live in.

How much better to dwell on the happy trail and the house of joy that it would have led me to? 

Philippians 4:8, ESV: "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."