Ramblings of a Squealer

“Hey Marie, do you want that white desk we used when we were homeschooling?” a family member asked. “I could drop it off tonight.”

“Yes!” I squealed.

I do a lot of squealing.

Like when I look at the faces of my grandchildren and feel my heart might explode if I don’t let something out. Squeal.

Or when my gifted friend says she’s finally going to start a blog. Squeal.

Or when my daughter brings home white chocolate raspberry cheesecake topped with mounds of whipped cream. Squeal.

Or my husband texts that he is on his way home. Squeal.

You get the picture. I’m a squealer. And a digresser.

Back to the desk. I loved it, coveted it actually, from the first time I saw it.

Slim, white wood slats, two drawers.

Drawers make me squeal. So many possibilities for filling them.

Anyway, the slim, white desk fit right in with my home decor style. Which I sometimes tell myself is rustic country. Or Shabby Chic. But really it’s Hobby Lobby, hand-me-down, or free.

My husband asked if I had room for the rustic desk, and where I was gong to put it.

I gave him The Look. (Yeah, you know the one.) The Furniture Rearranging Guru ALWAYS finds room.

First, it went into my office, right under the window, with jars of colorful stones, a vase of fake flowers (because I kill living plants), and my daily planner arranged on top.

“See?” I clapped my hands and squealed my victory squeal at my husband.

But the next morning it hit me.

Omigosh! I have skin care products and makeup now. (Most of y’all know my recent foray into Farmasi ) That white desk would make a perfect vanity.


So less than ten hours after I rearranged my office to make room, I was yanking, and grunting and moving bedroom furniture around. (I know. I know. I need a 12 step-program for compulsive rearrangers. “Hi, my name is Marie and I move things.” )

Anyway. The slim, white, vanity now sits beneath one of my bedroom windows, next to the dusty yoga mats that rarely get used because when I attempt something as simple as a Cat and Cow pose, I look more like a cross between a humped back whale and slug. It’s no wonder I can’t touch my toes.

Again, I digress.

I looked at the new skin care products and make-up that I can actually use, arranged neatly next to my jars of accomplishment (journaling, low-sugar eating, and stretches in case you can’t read the labels) that are pretty empty – particularly the stretches jar…and the journaling one. I looked at the desk and I couldn’t help but (say it with me) SQUEAL in delight.

I love my vanity. I love my skin care products. But most of all I love the way God blesses me, the way His gifts seem to fit so perfectly together, the way they arrive in just the right season. Friendships, words, opportunities, skin care products, desks, vanities, maple syrup – they always show up at the perfect time. And I am grateful; I never forget that every good and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of Lights, with whom there’s no variation or shadow of turning. (James 1:17 NKJV) so I praise Him for each and every good gift.

And one more thing – while I know that skin care products and makeup can be fun and beneficial, there is a far greater way to true beauty, found in the Scriptures. They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces were not ashamed. Psalm 34:5

Dear friends and readers, spend time with the Holy One and you will radiate like never before.

Love and blessings for TRUE abundance,


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