Angel Numbers

Yesterday, I purchased a gift for myself. I finally acquired the furniture item that I’ve desired for months (and basically my whole life) but, for some reason, thought it would be more difficult to obtain. I should say I manifested it. I consciously brought this lovely possession into my reality, once I decided I needed it and that it was finally time to have it. And after getting it and trying out a few possible (and unsuccessful) furniture rearrangements, it still ended up being just where I envisioned it sitting and it is absolutely perfect. My bedroom is now a hundred times cozier and more beautiful than it ever was before. I never want to leave.

The way I ended up with this piece is kind of a funny story. I had been on the lookout for something nice, not too expensive, most likely used, for quite a while. Then, this past week, I decided to set out and finally hunt one down. I went to a couple of thrift shops and saw a few possible candidates, but nothing really took me. Then on Tuesday, I went to ReStore, the Habitat For Humanity store in Charlestown. As I surveyed a large cluster of various furnishings in one of the rooms, I spotted this beauty – an antique poplar executive desk.

I stood and admired it as it beckoned, running my hands across its imperfectly smooth top, my eyes drinking in its rich, dark cherry finish. The hand-painted gold stenciling shimmered and its gracefully worn luster gleamed in the bright, artificial light. I marveled at its unique craftsmanship and the outward curvature of the drawers on each side. There was a certain old clanging sound of the metal ring handles, which slightly resembled the fleur-de-lis, and one top drawer that could only be opened a certain way. Not only was this object aesthetically appealing, but it also had charm and character. It was clear that someone put a lot of love and care into this creation, when building it. It was easily the most breathtaking object in the room, and something I yearned to own.

But alas, the tag read two-hundred dollars, a price I simply could not justify paying. So, I opted for something more practical, something more in my price range. There were two other desks. The one I chose was an old (but not beautiful or antique), dark, wooden thing with drawers on one end and a chair space on the other. It was not very attractive and its finish did not gleam in the light. It had an awkward, shabby appearance and it was boring; probably made along with hundreds of others just like it. But it was thirty-nine dollars and it would do the trick. I decided I would probably paint it to brighten up its drabness.

I claimed the item by paying the thirty-nine dollars, but had to leave it there until I could get someone with a truck to help me bring it home. I then called my father and he agreed to help me with it the next day. On Wednesday, I never heard from him. I tried calling him but his phone was shut off. He had forgotten. Not wanting to bother him too much, I decided it wasn’t a big deal and we could probably get it on Saturday, instead.

Yesterday morning, Dad picked me up bright and early and we headed over to Charlestown to get my desk and finally bring it home. However, when we got there, the volunteers who were working could not find it. I helped them search high and low (literally) for a decently large piece of furniture that somehow seemed to have vanished into the howling cold wind. It was not in their outside storage unit, it was not in the place I had left it on Tuesday. It was simply not there. The workers determined that someone had torn off my SOLD sticker and bought it, taking it away that same day. It had happened on Thursday, the same day that I was seeing the number 886, indicating that a possession would be leaving my life shortly. At the time, I could not think of what I could possibly be losing, so I didn’t give it very much thought or concern.

So there I was, thirty-nine dollars short and no desk to take home. I looked across the room at the other desk I had squeamishly considered a few days before, again with reluctance. It was the same style as the one I had bought, the same price, but uglier and even cheaper looking. I was incredulously peeved. What kind of thieving asshole rips a SOLD sign off something and buys it for himself? I began to grow irate with the thought and frustrated with the charity organization’s flawed, disorganized system. But as I looked around the room again, an opportunity revealed itself.

I stood before the gorgeous executive desk, the one I longed for, but subconsciously believed I didn’t deserve. I was suddenly filled with a sense that someone or something wanted me to have it, that it was meant to be mine. It seemed this odd situation had been set up and orchestrated by a higher power for me to have something better and to understand that I was worthy of it. I was dazzled by this plan, listening closely to the faint whisper that told me to take what I really wanted.

I asked if I could have the executive for one-fifty, since they screwed up and lost my purchase. Soon after, I wished that I had started lower, because the woman took my offer without hesitation. Needless to say, I am not a very savvy haggler. I suppose one thing I learned was that I should practice the skill a bit more in the future. But the more noteworthy conclusion here was that I allowed myself to have what I desired, rather than settling. Plus, I still got it for less than I would have, had I decided to buy it in the first place. A rational mind would label this type of occurrence a fluke, but I choose to call it something else.

I often see the number 411 in my travels, and it’s become a personal favorite of mine. Part of its message is, “don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” and “your angels want you to know that you deserve the very best.” The first part is the one that always resonates with me the most, and the second is one that I have come to notice and understand a little more with time. I saw that number quite a few times, as well, on Thursday and it now makes perfect sense. For a moment, just after gifting myself with this treasure, I habitually dosed myself with guilt for spending as much money as I did. After all, it was cash that could have been spent on groceries or something else that my family would need. But the guilt subsided as soon as I saw how much this artfully crafted object brightens up my home. It brings me joy and pleasure, which in my opinion is worth every penny. There will be more money.

Further as I go, I learn that the whole point of life is to enjoy it, and I think we all should finally give ourselves the permission to do so. I believe as humans, our true mission here is to live peacefully and blissfully, not to simply “get by.” Money is a tool, a means to get things that you want and need – things to enjoy. I have faith that everything my family and I need will always be provided, and that trust continues to grow stronger with each one of these magical little happenings. The more evidence I see of my thoughts shaping and molding my reality, the more I believe that abundance and prosperity will always flow freely into my life, simply because I allow it. If I hadn’t acted on that feeling, I know I would have regretted it. I would have been unsatisfied with the original purchase, and perhaps, as a result, I would have been less productive. Eventually, I would have searched for another desk like this and may not have ever found it. Instead, I now get to sit here every day, in my bedroom, in front of the bright, sunny window and write in pleasure. I can’t wait to see all of the things I will create in the future, while using this beautiful gift. I am incredibly thankful for this blessing, and perhaps an even better reward is the knowledge that I deserve it.


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