This article originally appeared in the December 2007 issue of Sojourners. Read the full article in the archives.
IN THE PAST, the bulk of my Christmas shopping has usually been done between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. on Christmas Eve. There’s something about waking up on the day before Christmas in a sheer panic that propels me straight into the open arms of every electronics, sporting goods, and department store within a 10-mile radius. While my family spends the morning sipping coffee, making red velvet cake, and cutting intricate little gift tags, I’ve spent the day with folks I’ve come to recognize as my extended family—a dysfunctional, wild-eyed bunch with a procrastination problem.
This year, however, will be different. Last January my husband and I embarked on an adventure inspired by newspaper coverage of the Buy-Nothing-New Year covenant groups forming across the country. Together with a few friends from work, we agreed to spend an entire year living more simply by not buying anything new, with exceptions made for consumables (food, toilet paper, etc.), replacement parts such as water filters, and intangible services such as a night at the theater. We’ve found the best thrift stores, traded items with friends, and managed to give birth to our first child without ever stepping foot in a Babies R Us.
I’ve never been particularly good at sticking to spiritual disciplines, but I’ve come to recognize this year of living simply as a kind of living prayer. ... I’ve come to cherish the feeling of having enough, of not needing or wanting more stuff.
Amy Ard lived in Atlanta with her 5-month-old daughter and husband when this article appeared.

Got something to say about what you're reading? We value your feedback!