Enough.

One question. Three words. Two of them just one syllable. 

When the Aldi Finds post comes up on Instagram, and the first thing that comes to mind is, "Oohhh...I need to stop by there!" follow that thought up by asking yourself, "Is it necessary?" 

When the sale flyer lands in your inbox and you see your favorite store is taking an additional 40% off the clearance price, instead of clicking on the link, ask yourself, "Is it necessary?" 

This simple question goes along very nicely with others, such as...

• Do I really need it?
• Will my life be better if I have this?
• Could I use something I already own?
• What could I use the money for instead?

And my personal favorite...

Why did I not need it before I knew it existed? 

Photo by Tamanna Rumee on Unsplash

I'm currently reading How To Break Up With Fast Fashion: A guilt-free guide to changing the way you shop – for good, a book written by Lauren Bravo and published in January 2020. While much has changed in the world since its publication, including COVID, lockdowns, supply-chain issues, recessions, and $5 cartons of eggs, the idea of mindless buying or overbuying, has not. In fact, if anything, the 2020 pandemic made the problem worse, when we were all stuck inside, but Amazon was still delivering. And now that the financial status of the U.S., among other countries, is on the verge of insanity, it often feels that our only option for clothing our kids and ourselves are the cheaply made t-shirts and one-season pants offered by "fast fashion" vendors like Old Navy and Walmart. 

I get it. I have five kids. Although the eldest is out on her own and hasn't wanted me to buy her clothes in a few years due to a difference in style taste {ahem}, the other four are all still in their growth spurts and it feels like a never-ending cycle of buying fast fashion, because it's what we can afford, only to have it fall apart, wear out, or simply give up months, and sometimes weeks, after purchase.  

In 2020, I read Secondhand: Travels in the New Global Garage Sale by Adam Minter, which I found both fascinating and thought-provoking. After spending four years living and working in several developing nations (or, a little less P.C. - third-world countries), I wasn't entirely unaware of the situations described by Minter and Bravo in their respective books. When we lived in a small country in southern Africa, we commuted almost daily past a local garment factory where GAP and Levis jeans were made. In one Southeast Asian country, down a bumpy dirt road, I found beautiful pottery bowls in a store, stamped with the official emblem of Williams & Sonoma, and was told they were made in a factory not far away. And yet in each case, a new pair of GAP jeans or a set of mixing bowls would cost more to buy than the worker who made them would make in a month? Two months? Six months? It was, and is, sobering. 

And so, I ask again, is it necessary? Or do I, in fact, have enough? These are the questions I'm pondering and have been for quite some time. And of the things I have, how much do I donate (and thus contribute even more to the "global garage sale") and how much do I keep in the hopes that I can repurpose it? I'm not an environmentalist, and I don't think we can save the planet (I mean, Revelation is a bit of a spoiler alert on that idea), but I do believe that God has entrusted us with this creation of His, and we are to be good caretakers and stewards of the resources He gives us. And beyond that, and even more importantly, we are to love the people in this world, as He does. Am I loving them well by sending them my junk or supporting the working environments I've both observed and read about, by buying fast fashion? I don't think I am. 

This is not the end of the conversation, but it is the beginning. I'm still pondering, still reading, still learning. January 2023 was a month of changing habits and beginning a journey of becoming a better steward of many things, including my body (what I eat and how I treat it), my time (what I spend it on), my money and resources, and now, apparently, my closet. I don't know where this will end, but I suspect that ENOUGH just became my word of the year.