I'm thinking of a no-buy year for 2024...

...and it hurts a little, tbh.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

I hate math. But here’s a little problem I bet you can solve:

“If Wendi has twenty dollars, and the nearest thrift store is open today, what are the odds she’ll return home with the same twenty dollars and an empty shopping bag?”

If you answered zero out of a hundred, congrats. You’re a math genius.

Except for that time my husband lost his wedding ring and I ran off to Helzberg to charge a new (expensive) one to my credit card instead of buying a simple band from Walmart, I’ve never had a lot of credit card debt. Student loans? *laughs in regret* A morgage? You betcha. But any credit cards Pierce and I had in the early years of our marriage have long since been paid off, as well as both of our vehicles. We try to be responsible about our finances and we feel compelled, as Andy Stanley says, to think of ourselves as managers rather than owners of our money.

Here’s where it gets complicated for me: thrift stores, coffee shops, and bookstores.

I will seek them out, and I will spend every available dollar on stuff that makes me happy. That book on my TBR? In the cart, it goes. That vintage dress with the pretty flowers? Please and thank you. An iced coffee every time I pass a Starbucks? Don’t mind if I do. The dopamine hit is real.

In many ways, these little joys are good for me. They’re good for all of us. We are hardwired from birth to want more of what is pleasurable. It’s why we reach for our mother’s breast, why we cry to be held, and why we sleep soundly against the warm bodies of those who love us. God created those happy hormones and He intends for us to experience them often.

But what happens when those hormones get hijacked? What happens when we lose our capacity for real joy without the accumulation of stuff that sets our neural circuits on fire? Well, to put a very fine point on it, that’s called addiction.

In a spiritual sense, it’s called idolatry.

I can feel you cringing at me from here. “Wendi, do you think it’s necessary to use such harsh language? Are you sure it’s helpful to label your behavior like that?”

My therapist might disagree with you, but since she’s been out on leave for almost eight months and I’ve been doing this on my own for a while, I’m gonna say yeah. Socrates said, “Know thyself,” and I do. I don’t feel shame about my desire for stuff. I’m human. Ads have sneaked into every (literal) pocket of our lives, beckoning us to come closer, buy this, do that! Everywhere we look, some brand tells us they not only have the answer to what ails us, but they are the answer. Why would I feel shame about how hard it is to say no?

When I use words like “idolatry” and “addiction,” I’m simply refusing to tell myself a lie about my choices. The issue is not that I like home decor or vintage clothes, but that I often turn to them when I don’t want to feel something else. I ask them to deliver on a promise they cannot keep: to save me from whatever aches in the deepest parts of my heart.

Thus, the no-buy year.

I’ve seen a lot of people do these online. Each no-buy varies according to the needs of the individual, but each one comes with strict limits on personal spending. Gifts are generally fine, and so are absolute necessities, but that’s all most people allow themselves.

I can’t believe I’m typing this, but I think it’s time for me to do the same.

There is so much room in my life taken up by stuff and the desire to consume more of it. I’m sure you can relate. I walk into Target or get some extra cash and my first thought is—as my dad used to tease me when I’d ask him for money—“Give me, loan me, let me have.” I’ve organized the proverbial room full of stuff in my heart over and over again, convinced this thing or that will satisfy the ache in my soul, when what the room truly needs is a good, long clean-out.

I plan to document my no-buy year in a series of free posts, with extra content sprinkled throughout the year for paid subscribers. I’ll probably add a small section to the Plot Points email each week to offer quick peeks, but longer updates will be reserved for individual posts.

If there is anything in particular you’d like to see me cover or discuss, please let me know in the comments!

Okay, so how is this going to play out?

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Wendi’s No-Buy 2024

Before I specify what is off-limits, let’s define some terms.

No-buy: This is more like a low-buy or minimal-buy rather than no purchases at all.

Necessities: Obvious things like bills, gas, groceries, toiletries, car + home repair, kid’s clothing, and school materials. Some skincare and makeup are also a part of this category, with exceptions listed below.

“Personal” spending: Money in my personal (i.e. not joint) bank account that would typically be spent on stuff I want to buy, not items I need to live on. Pierce and I budget a specific amount for each of us every paycheck.

The Rules:

• No personal spending except

  1. Gifts for others (on actual birthdays, holidays, etc.)

  2. Periodic dates out with friends or family

     • I don’t know yet if we will do a vacation in 2024; if we do, I will maintain the no-buy year in terms of not purchasing souvenirs, etc.

  3. when an item I love is used up/broken beyond repair

     • If said item is damaged/broken/spilled, it can be replaced only if it’s the last one, such as my single pair of black pants or the sole bottle of foundation; otherwise, I will have to search for a solution in what I already own

• No new clothing, home decor, journals, books, etc. This includes thrifted items.

• Movies can be rented if we are watching them as a family.

• Outside coffee is allowed on Sundays (family tradition) and once a week when I go grocery shopping.

• Gift cards or rewards previously built up via apps are also allowed, but purchases must stay within the gift card or reward limit.

The point here is not perfection, but recognition of how often I make excuses to spend and why. Ultimately, this is an experiment in paying attention.

I’ve shared that Pierce lost his job in October. Things are okay thanks to his severance and thankfully some contract work has come in. I don’t owe anyone an explanation of our finances, nor will I offer a detailed one, but a bit of transparency is key to a no-buy year.

Since I became a mother ten years ago, I’ve had the privilege of working either remotely with my children in tow or, after I was laid off in 2020, being a full-time stay-at-home mom. Pierce is now the sole breadwinner in our family, and this is by choice. It is a joy and a privilege to have this choice, and both my work in the home and his work outside the home make our family life possible. In this transitory period when we don’t know what’s on the horizon, and since I am in charge of our budget, it’s even more important for me to be mindful of what goes in and what comes out. Beyond the heart reasons for a no-buy year, it must be said that this experiment is also practical as well as logical at this point.

It will be a challenge, of that I have no doubt. But I’m excited to see what God reveals over the next twelve months as I seek, however wobbly, to take steps toward His best for me and my family. I’m eager to get creative in ways I haven’t had to until this moment, to look around at all the beautiful things that remain in our lives and appreciate, savor, and, gosh, use them. How much of what we have just sits, unnoticed, taking up space? How much of what we own has been forgotten altogether?

I want to see it all.

I want to open up space for better things.

I want to experience how much the Lord satisfies.

And be grateful.

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