When I can't let go of that empty tube of toothpaste

This post is an oldie but a goodie--especially with Psalm 23 still on my heart:

Sometimes I think I’m a product of the 1930s, as if I lived through the wrong generation and instead I'm more like my grandparents, who survived the Great Depression. 

Either that or I’m cheap—and I prefer to think it’s the former and not the latter. 

Right now I have two un-opened packages of mascara in my cabinet, and my current tube is seriously empty, but I am still—and have been for weeks—scraping the edges for some black goodness that makes my eyelashes look longer and thicker than they really are. 

And it’s not just makeup. I refuse to depart with a near-empty tube of toothpaste. Even though I have a new one under the sink, I will squeeze that tube for days, even weeks, putting teeny-tiny dollops on my tongue (yes, that’s where I put it, and that’s why Howell refuses to share a toothpaste tube with me). 

In the shower, I’ll fill my conditioner with water when it gets to the very end and shake it for the stuck sides of conditioner to “rain out” on my head. I’ll do this for at least two or three showers—until it’s really just water I’m pouring on my head—before I finally give in, throw it away, and grab the new bottle under the sink, the one I bought months ago in preparation for this day. 

Why do I do this? I have no idea… Howell just laughs at me and says, “Babe, just get a new one.” 

I mean, I have a black dress from 8^th grade in my closet. I wore it faithfully through my senior year of college when I was consistently half my current size. Today, it does. not. fit. It never will fit. 

Why do I still have it? 

Obviously, I have a very hard time throwing things away, and I’m not only talking about cute sentimental things like cards (although, yes, I also keep every stinking card because I am crazy, and I guess I believe I will someday read through those boxes and boxes of paper). 

But seriously, y’all, I can’t even depart with a tube of toothpaste. 

With Howell and others who know me well, we joke about this, but I’ve been seriously thinking about it this week, especially as I (for real) am scraping my mascara bottle’s edges each morning. 

I believe the root of my sometimes comical behavior is fear of lack. 

I don’t think I consciously feel that way—and it’s not like we can’t afford an $8 tube of mascara. (I mean, I have two new ones in the cabinet!)

But somewhere in my heart is the root—

I must hold on or else…

I can’t let go or there won’t be enough….

I’ve blogged about fear of lack before—mostly related to seeing myself as if I'm not enough, as if I can’t contribute, as if I have nothing to offer.

For months, we had this thing on our kitchen counter: “Through Jesus, I am whole, complete, lacking nothing.” 

This is not only true for me as a person, but it’s also true for the Lord’s provision. He is enough, and He will always provide enough. 

I have never not been taken care of. (How’s that for a double negative and passive voice?!) Honestly, though, I cannot recall a time where the Lord hasn’t provided, and there were plenty of dire months where we needed it. 

But even in those paycheck-to-paycheck days, He provided. And He provides now. 

Yes, it’s funny, and we can laugh when I’m still holding on to that tube of toothpaste, but in all sincerity, it’s about my heart. 

And in my heart, I need to believe that I do not lack. 

He provides not only my vanity products like mascara—but my everything: physically, emotionally, spiritually, and financially. 

“The Lord is my Shepard; I shall not lack.”

What are you holding onto today that might be connected to a fear of lack? Dear friends, I encourage you to remind yourself--as I need to often!--that He is our source and provider.

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