Divine Intervention, Donkey Milk, and Cake

"I know a while back you requested testimonies.  I am sorry that I'm just now getting around to giving you one.  But our son had an AMAZING drop-off this morning so I wanted to share that with you. And this was a great excuse for me to finally write this.  I know a drop-off isn't a big deal to 99% of parents.  But to that 1% of us, it's EVERYTHING...

Everyone has their thing they specifically pray for.  I’m sure every parent prays they just want their child healthy and happy.  I want that for my child, too, don’t get me wrong.  But what I specifically pray for every single night and every single morning is that my child has a good drop-off at school (and to open more registers at Target but that’s a different prayer chain).  I won’t bore you with the details, but it has been one of the toughest parts of our mornings for years; since Pre-K and he’s now a third grader.  Literally years.  I pray that I can drive into the carpool line, just like all the other parents, and my son will hop right out of the car – with his backpack on his back and his lunch in his hand – and he will wave good-bye to me and all will be well with my soul (and his too).  I realize comparison is the thief of joy.  But how can I not compare myself to the mini-van mom in front of me.  She drives off and sips her Starbucks with a smile.  Not me … I usually drive off with my mascara running down my face because I’m sobbing, 45 minutes late to work, and my hot tea is now cold.  All of this just to get my son out of the car.  Well, friends, today all that changed.  I think God decided I needed a break.  My child got out of the car like Ice Cube having a good day (and if you didn’t get that joke, you need more 90s gangsta rap in your life).  He even remembered his backpack and lunch.  Today, well, I gotta say it was a good day.

Okay, this is wonderful and praise the Lord, right?  Well, I don’t know that this was exactly Divine Intervention today.  We’ve seen positive changes in this kid since the spring.  Coincidentally, the spring is the same time that he started taking donkey milk.  Since the donkey milk, the aggressive bouts of rage have ceased.  As in nada.  Zilch.  Seeee ya!  I know my boy is a happy boy.  I know he’s a good kid.  I know he wants to make good choices.  He just battles a war with his brain on the daily.  I won’t begin to understand what he’s going through.  But I will do all I can to help him.  Even if that means buying donkey milk from a donkey dairy each month. 

There is one more thing I pray for each morning and night:  the donkey dairy.  Thank God for those people!

Oh, and I did leave the school drop-off line with mascara streaks.  But today I was crying happy tears.  God is good!"—-a PANDAS mom (with permission to share.)
I got this message on one of those days would make anyone question our sanity about this whole Donkey Dairy thing. 
My response?
"Oh, this makes me so happy!!!!
And it is absolutely Divine Intervention that this donkey dairy is even still running, so you know, He’s got you and your toxin free mascara covered. I really needed this today!", and I did.
Because when I start to doubt, there is always something...sometimes its a little push, sometimes its a giant shove, a big sign, "DON'T LOSE HOPE!"....
Like having a complete stranger offer to help pay for Mindy's EPM treatments. Because she's been there, and she knows. 
We didn't have to choose between paying for the biological Dentist or the Donkey Meds for Mindy and her EPM.
And the best part, I didn't even ask. Asking sucks. Super humbling. I like my pride, what's left of it. (Milking donkeys tends to do that..humble you, I mean. The nasty articles in The Daily Oklahoman, The Gazette, The Lost Ogle...ahhh, I've had my share of humble pie. Which is why I'm not linking up those hate pieces. And I'm still a teensy bit scarred.) 
But this? This was a shot of courage in the pants. Because we aren't alone in this. And we have people praying for us. Every. Single. Day.
I read a book about a missionary who worked with a group that never ever asked for anything. They just prayed. And it showed up, in miraculous, astonishing ways. Just when they needed it...down to a cake in the mail for a devotional tea they were hosting, and had nothing to feed their guests. A cake. In the mail.
This email from the mom in the carpool line? It was cake. (Not the processed, Walmart, blue frosting kind either, we're talking carrot cake, the kind with cream cheese frosting that Grandma used to make. With organic carrots from her Garden.)
That message from the woman with a heart for equines wanting to help with Mindy.... (Chocolate sheet cake. With cherries. And extra frosting. The legit frosting...that’s mostly butter and chocolate. That kind of cake.)
And all of you that shared your success stories with EPM and your horses, and offered suggestions and wisdom and encouragement....Well, that's homemade ice cream to top it off right there.
(Obviously, I've been Paleo a little too long....)
And it's time for lunch. Too bad I don't have any cake.
(PS. This momma bear has an awesome Facebook group for living the toxin free mascara life, go check it out at This Greenish Life.)
(PSS. I'm still waiting on retractions from the writers of the hate pieces...but I'm not holding my breath. Good thing, or I'd be dead. Doornail. Dead. Even Houdini can't hold it that long.)

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