At dinner a few nights ago, my seven-year-old son turned to me and asked—and I quote:
“May I pick out all of the mushrooms (from the green beans) and eat them?”
“Sure,” I said in haste, trying to scoff down my own food while feeding our one-year-old in her high chair—prepping myself for the next request from one our kiddos to land on either me or my husband with lightning speed.
A few minutes later, I felt the Holy Spirit prompt me to take a picture.
I paused, hesitated, and then—when I couldn’t shake the feeling—I grabbed my phone.
My son reached his hand for another mushroom and I captured it.
It wasn’t the meal I was capturing.
It wasn’t even the fun fact that my son now loves mushrooms.
It was the reminder that God is faithful.
Some might laugh.
Some may be so far removed from a familiar season that they can hardly remember.
But still, I write—for an audience unknown.
When my firstborn son was two or three years old, he refused to eat a single vegetable.
I laugh looking back, because nowadays (with five small kiddos), what I cook is what I cook—and whether or not my kids eat everything on their plate… I honestly don’t even know. It’s simply not at the top of my priority list. (Choking, glass splattering, and food being thrown top that list!)
But back to the story.
Back then, I spent many nights worrying. I tried sneaking spinach into muffins, rewarding applesauce for one bite of broccoli—you know, all the things.
And my journal entries to the Lord remained the same:fraught with worry, anxious for his future, filled with thoughts of comorbidities that didn’t even exist.
Ya girl was going down a black hole.
Then one night, I felt the Holy Spirit stop me mid-journaling.
I don’t know how the Lord speaks to you, but that night I felt Him prompt me to write down a vision He was going to give me of my oldest son.
Journal already in hand, I waited—and then began writing.
And writing.
And writing.
I wrote about the man of God he would grow into:
A man filled with knowledge, wisdom, and understanding.
A man who submitted to the Lord’s authority no matter the cost.
A man excellent at investing—making whatever he stewarded grow.
A man of supreme self-control, not quick to speak, not quick to anger, not quick to make rash decisions.
Oh, I wrote so much more—you get the idea.
And as I wrote, the Lord prompted me to include specific details for my son.
And you know what that included?
A young man who ate vegetables.
It may seem small, but I stared at those words until the black ink became embedded in my memory.
I typed that vision out.
And then, every morning, I began speaking that vision over him. Things didn't immediately change, but the worry became less and less. The words allowed me to practice visualizing a future that I couldn’t see. And in time, the worry became an afterthought.
So when he asked:
“Mama, may I eat all the mushrooms?”
I smiled.
“Yes, yes, yes—eat to your heart’s content.”
Because the Lord is faithful.
A Word for the Mamas
To the new mama — God is a God who sees and knows.
Trust Him. Keep coming to Him, even with the smallest of fears.
To the new-ish mama — Remain humble. You may finally be able to breathe a wee bit more, but never credit your systems or routines alone for your reprieve.
To the older mama — Don’t forget the seasons when you fretted over when he’d walk, or talk, or aim correctly when peeing. Recall His faithfulness in the little things as you have now grown to trust His faithfulness in the seemingly “bigger”. The God who helped her fasten her seatbelt correctly is the one who can draw her close to Him while she lives far away.
And to the old mama — God is faithful, ain’t He? Can you remind us younger mamas with your stories and testimonies? Myself and my fellow generation needs to hear them.
Here’s to mushrooms.
And to remembering—He truly is faithful
