✨ The Girl Who Loves Shiny Things

I am a woman who loves beautiful things. Like a small bird drawn to shimmer and light, I find myself enchanted by trinkets—faux jewels and simple pieces of jewelry that sparkle like tiny stars. Cheap rings and delicate necklaces, rescued from thrift stores, often find their way into my shelves and drawers, where they rest like little treasures waiting to be admired. And sometimes I wear them—small glimmers resting against my neck, catching the sunlight, and for a moment making my heart feel quietly alive. ✨

And yet, sometimes, in my desire to please God, a quiet doubt creeps in.

Am I doing the right thing? If I wear these rings, am I storing treasures on earth? Will my love for pretty things lower my standing before my Lord? These thoughts can steal joy before I even fasten a clasp.

But then I remember something.

In the Book of Exodus, when God gave instructions for the Tabernacle, He asked for gold, silver, precious stones, fine linen in blue and purple and scarlet. The sanctuary was not plain. It shimmered. It reflected heaven’s beauty.

God was not threatened by beauty — He designed it.

And in the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus tells us to store treasures in heaven, He is not condemning sparkle. He is teaching about allegiance. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” The issue is not what rests on my fingers — it is what rests on my heart.

Do I trust these things?
Do they define me?
Would I surrender them if He asked?

If the answer is no — if they are simply small joys that stir gratitude — then they are not idols. They are gifts.

The same God who dressed lilies more beautifully than Solomon understands delight. He understands artistry. He created magpies who gather shining objects and sunsets that look like poured molten gold.

Perhaps my love for thrifted rings is not rebellion. Perhaps it is simply the echo of being made in the image of a creative God.

The enemy often whispers vague guilt to tender souls. But conviction from the Holy Spirit is specific, gentle, and clear. It leads to freedom — not fog.

So today, when I slip on a rescued ring, I can pray:

“Lord, thank You for beauty. Let my heart shine more brightly than this jewel. May my greatest treasure always be You.”

And in that prayer, I am storing treasure in heaven.

Because holiness is not the absence of sparkle —
it is the presence of surrender. ✨

Today, sunshine bathed the earth like a shining diamond. For far too long, we have lived under the spell of winter blues—skies the color of iron, and the steady drip of cold rain.

My little heart has been craving this kind of light—the kind that cuts through bone and soul and makes you come alive from whatever pit winter tucked you into.

Days like this whisper to me that perhaps I do need to move toward a warmer climate, where sunshine sings its song through the window of my eyes and straight into my soul.

And how beautiful it feels—how restorative—the warmth spreading across my chest, as if light itself were laying gentle hands upon me.

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There is something deeply spiritual about light after a long gray season. “The Lord is my light…” (Psalm 27:1). Sometimes the sun itself feels like a small rehearsal of that promise.