Category Archives: home

December 18, 2012 · 10:39 am

On Newtown and This Tension

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A good friend and former co-worker of mine lost his 20-year-old son three years ago.  I am ashamed to say how long it took me to email him, to say that I’d heard, that I was so sorry.  When I finally did, I apologized profusely, and told him that I’d been delayed by the weight of the situation, by the fear of saying the wrong thing.  He was gracious, of course, because that’s the kind of man he is, but I know that my silence was the exact wrong thing I was so afraid of.

After Friday’s events at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I have that same feeling. I don’t know the residents of Newtown personally, or the parents of those sweet children, or the husbands/families/friends of those brave teachers, but just the same, I don’t want to wait a year before I say that I heard.  That I’m so sorry.  That I am 3,000 miles away and it is not just a headline.  My heart is broken.  My life is changed.

The morning after, I woke up early, before my two-year-old, even, which doesn’t happen often.  My mind immediately went to those parents.  My house was quiet because I’m pregnant and I can’t sleep anymore.  Their houses are quiet because their children are absent.  I laid in bed and shed tears over what that must feel like, over that morning-after moment when they woke up and realized it wasn’t all a bad dream.

On Twitter over the weekend, I saw a British person (only one, mind you) complaining at how much the BBC was covering the Newtown tragedy.  He wanted to know if it was really necessary, and “how much [Britons] were really affected.”

This isn’t Newtown’s crisis.  It isn’t even America’s crisis.  It belongs to this world, to this human race.

This place is broken, and though I don’t think I’ll ever not be shocked by crimes like this, I’ll never truly be shocked by our brokenness.

It was broken all along, and things like the untimely death of a friend’s young son, like the massacre of 26 people, like our quickness to point fingers and blame you and you and you and everyone but myself – they are a reminder that the Kingdom is here but not yet.  That we live in the tension between beauty and sorrow, between the now and the waiting.

I realize I haven’t given any answers here, and it wasn’t my intention to.  Only to break my silence, so that you, and they, know that I heard, and that I’m so sorry.

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.  For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you and his glory will be seen upon you.  And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.

Lift up your eyes all around, and see; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from afar, and your daughters shall be carried on the hip.  Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and exult…”

Isaiah 60:1-5

Some people who have kind and courageous words for this time:

Emily Freeman

Rachel Held Evans

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October 30, 2012 · 9:59 am

On Making This House a Home

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When we moved into our rental house last Fall, I had big plans for it.  We’d been living in a split-level, upstairs flat for over a year, and I was seriously in love with it, but I just couldn’t carry Adlai and all his paraphernalia up and down the stairs anymore.  It was hard to leave, but my new two-story Victorian terrace house provided a lot of inspiration.  Plus, it had a backyard, and I’d been longing for a patch of land – however small – to call my own.

About a month after we moved in, I took a nasty tumble down our stairs and broke my ankle, and spent the next six weeks confined to my couch.  That took us to Christmas, and then we all caught whatever flu/virus/cold was being passed around at the time, and we spent till February pretty much just cruising through life with not much energy or motivation.

When we found out we were expecting another little one, we started talking about looking for a house with another bedroom (this one has two, with a third room you have to walk through to get to the only bathroom in the house). It wasn’t so much that we felt like we needed our new baby to have its own room – we’re quite happy for our kids to share – but more that we have people come from the US and stay with us for 1-2 weeks at a time (which we love), and we feel like this space isn’t providing us with a room to host people well in.

One thing I am so passionate about is hospitality.  I could talk about this for a long time – and I will, another day – but briefly, when someone comes to stay with me, I want them to feel warm and comfortable and cared for.  An air mattress in the living room doesn’t make me feel like I’m doing that for people.

So, we started looking for another house with one more bedroom.  Another bedroom, not surprisingly, costs about £100 more a month. Truthfully, we don’t know if we can afford that or not, because my work as a freelancer is feast or famine, and Simon has a new role that he’s only been in for a month.  We just don’t really know what life looks like for us in this new season yet.

While we figure that out, we’re going to stay put.  At first, I was bummed. But now I’m starting to look at my house with fresh eyes.  Because of our year of broken ankles and sickness, in a way we’ve become accustomed to living in a space we don’t love and haven’t really put our mark on.

Maybe it’s because the Fall makes me feel warm and cozy and like a bit of a homebody, and maybe it’s because the second trimester nesting phase has set in, but I feel totally excited to look at this house in a new way.  I love the challenge of figuring out how to use the space differently to make the rooms work better for our family.  I love the inspiration I get from blogs like this one and this one.  I love talking to my friend Sarah about ways to change our space around.  I love the creative rush I get when I think about my house as a blank canvas – a place where I can use so many different outlets to express myself.  And I love the thought of turning this house we’ve been camping out in for a year into a home where my family can grow in size, in creativity, and in love.

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August 7, 2012 · 9:38 am

I hate this stupid country.

There are days I hate this stupid country.

Days I hate its five-day forecasts of rain and rain and rain.

Days I hate its houses all stuck together so no one has any privacy and you can’t laugh too loud in the evenings or vacuum your carpets whenevertheheck you want to.

Days I hate its people who don’t say hello in the street, or wave to each other from passing cars on a rural road, or chat to strangers in the grocery store line; its people who close their curtains as soon as the sun sets, who are obsessed with “the property ladder” and “the recession” and “the Conservatives.”

I hate its stupid words for “line” and “diaper” and “bathroom.”  I hate that I have to repeat myself – to translate myself – to be understood.

I hate its rules for roundabouts, and its rules for drivers’ licenses, and its rules for immigration.

I hate that one Krispy Kreme donut costs $2.00.

I hate that there is no trace of maple syrup on its breakfast plates.

I hate its so-called “beaches” covered in painful pebbles, and lapped by freezing cold waves.

Yesterday was one of those days.  I laid on my bed after Adlai went to sleep and cried so hard I shook.  Cried because I hated everything so much.  Cried because this country is stupid.

And then this morning, as is most often the case, I saw last night’s tears for what they really were.

The truth is, the only thing I really hate about this country is that it is 3,000 miles away from my family, my big sister, my best friends.

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Filed under being southern, England, home, North Carolina, seasons, writing

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March 9, 2012 · 9:55 am

A Map of My Heart

My friend Saana is from Finland. I think I’ve mentioned her once or twice, and her little boy Kasper is a month older than Adlai and they play together just about every day of the week (mostly so Saana and I can drink coffee together, but you know, it’s all about the kids).

I met Saana last year when Adlai was only three months old, and we became fast friends. She’s married to a British man, too, and she lives a long way away from her family, too, so we have a lot to talk about.

She’s an amazing seamstress, and studied dressmaking and design when she was in college, so when she told me she was making something for my birthday, I kind of assumed it would be a cool bag, or a top, or something made of fabric.

But then she showed up at my house earlier this week with a giant garbage bag, and handed me a card that said, “I know you carry this place in your heart.”

Inside the bag, was a large picture frame – she helped me pull it out so that I saw the back first, where this note was attached…

In case you can’t read that, it’s a quote from this blog, written on the 30th of November, 2009.  It says:

“I love America, I love North Carolina, and I love Winston-Salem.  I won’t follow that with a ‘but’.  I love it here.

I’m being led now, to a country where the Lord has plans for me, and I’m doing my best to follow.”

Needless to say, this is the point when the waterworks started.

Then I turned the frame around, and it was all over.

Ladies and gentlemen, that is a map of my beloved North Carolina made from vintage sheet music.

Some gifts just say, “I know you, and I love you.”

…

Good news!  Saana takes commissions!  If you’re interested, contact me and I’ll put you in touch.  

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Filed under Hand Craft, home, North Carolina, women

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January 3, 2012 · 8:57 am

Where you be?

Would you mind doing me a(nother) wee favor?  I’m doing some planning (Me?  Planning?  I know, right.) for the coming year, and I wondered if you could just take a sec to let me know where you live.  I’m not going to come to your house or anything – unless you invite me, and bake me cookies and make me nice coffee – I just want to get a better idea of who’s reading this here little blog so that I can plan content that you like.  (And also so I can let interested advertisers know who they’re advertising to.  Advertisers!  I know, right.)

I very much appreciate it.  Thank you!  You’re the best.

Oh, also, did you see I got a facebook like button over to the right?  Thank you, wordpress, for finally making this possible.  (It’s about dang time, really.  It’s 2012.)  Anyhoo, if you like Great Smitten, well then, please like it.  Cause I like you.  Mwah.

 

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August 23, 2011 · 12:21 pm

Messy/Beautiful

I’ve fallen into that trap we’ve all fallen into, of trawling the internet, clicking links from blog to blog to blog, seeing all these lives – these beautiful women in beautiful clothes living in beautiful houses somehow un-ruined by their beautiful children.  I’ve wasted hours.  Days.  And been left feeling frustrated and jealous, coveting what I do not have.

My house is messy and somewhat unkempt.  There are dishes stacked by the sink – baby spoons and sippy cups and the blender Simon uses to make smoothies every morning.  Our kitchen trash can is too small, so sometimes we just put our garbage into a big black sack in the corner.

There are toys on my living room floor pretty much 24 hours a day – blocks, trains, toy giraffes.  Most nights, I tidy them away into a cupboard, but sometimes I don’t, because I know they’ll come back out again at 7am.  There are bits of rice cake ground into the carpet; there is melted candlewax on my hearth; there are tiny little trousers stained with fruit and tomato sauce and milk lying on my bedroom floor.

My own appearance is no different.  My favorite hoodie has spit-up on the shoulder, and I keep forgetting to wash it.  Some of my jeans are too big in the butt, but I wear them anyway because they’re comfortable.  Most days I just scrunch some mousse into my hair and let it air dry.  I can’t remember the last time I felt stylish enough to stand pigeon-toed with my hand in my coiffure, showing off my cute outfit and vintage pumps.  I don’t even own any vintage pumps.

But here’s what I have learned: vintage pumps are overrated.  As are perfectly made beds and dream kitchens.

My life is disheveled, sloppy, messy.  But, to me, messy is beautiful.

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Filed under confessions, home, learning

April 20, 2011 · 4:19 pm

Buy something beautiful, do something good.

Last weekend, several tornadoes touched down in North Carolina, killing 24 people and causing millions of dollars worth of damage to homes and businesses.  I’ve spent the last few days looking at footage and photos of familiar places, but with trees ripped from the ground, and houses leveled.

My family was fortunate – my parents have 200 holes in the side of their house from golf ball-sized hailstones, but it’s all superficial, and they have insurance.  Some people were not so lucky.

This is my home, and I want to help.  If you want to help too, I’ve found something we can do.

My friend Michelle, of IndieNC, where I’m an occasional contributor, has put together a fundraiser for the Boys & Girls Club of Southeast Raleigh.  I did some work with the Boys & Girls Club while I worked at skirt!, and what they do is truly amazing.  For pretty much no fee, they provide after school care, mentoring, and all kinds of opportunities for disadvantaged children.

Their buildings were very badly damaged by the tornadoes, and Michelle has used her connections with some amazing North Carolina designers to pull together an online shop where 100% of the proceeds will go toward helping repair the Boys & Girls Club’s home.

Whether you’re in the UK or the US, any of the vendors involved will ship to you, so don’t worry. All you need to do is click on the photo at the top of this post(or go to raleightornadofundraiser.com), which will take you to the shop, and pick out something beautiful.  Then tell your friends.

On a less do-gooder, more selfish note, there are some amazing buys here.  Personally, I’m teetering between the North Carolina t-shirt by Michelle herself…

…or the Home Sweet Home tote by This Paper Ship.

Hey, I’m feeling patriotic.

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August 3, 2010 · 8:32 am

Turns out I’m a Mama’s girl, too.

I’ve never really been a Mama’s girl, that I can remember.

Growing up, I spent countless hours sitting on my Daddy’s lap, riding on the back of my grandpa’s three-wheeler with my Daddy at the wheel, and riding horses with him through woods and cornfields.

In high school, I was his chanteuse daughter, and I sang Ella Fitzgerald numbers at weddings and festivals while he expertly strummed the guitar.  I loved my Mama, too, of course.  But it was different.  She was there when I needed her, but Daddy was the driving force behind most of what I did, and pursued.  I wanted to please him, and quite a lot of what I did and didn’t do revolved around that need in me.

Wedged between my two sisters, they latched onto Mom while Dad and I did our own thing.

I was Daddy’s girl.

Except now, here I am, 3000 miles away from both my parents.

And I love my Daddy.  And I miss him.

But the other day, I was walking through a gardening shop, and I passed by a jug of RoundUp, and I saw my Mama walking down their quarter-mile-long driveway with that RoundUp in her hand, killing the weeds that sprout up between the stones. Her hair was in a ponytail and her sleeves were pushed up so she’d get sun on her arms, and I choked up a little.

And this morning, a girl at work offered me what she called a ‘fig roll.’  When I bit into it, I realized what it was, and I was standing in my Mama’s blue and white kitchen, the tiles cold beneath my bare feet.  I could smell her vanilla candle and feel the breeze from the air-conditioning vents on my face.  I was just in front of her white cupboard, my hand in her box of Fig Newtons.

Never has anything felt so familiar.

Never have I missed my Mama so much.

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November 30, 2009 · 12:44 am

It all becomes clear.

As I write this, I’m sleepy and nervous.

First, I have to apologize.  My posts have been a bit less than riveting lately.  But there’s a reason, I promise, and hopefully it’ll all make sense soon.  Ready for it?  Here it is:

I’m moving back to England.

Stay with me, I’ll explain.  My friend’s mom has this thing she does when she needs to make a big decision.  She just makes it.  And lives with it.  Kind of quietly for a little while, making all the steps that the decision requires, but just all by her lonesome for a while.  It’s a way of kind of testing the decision out, making sure it makes as much sense in the cold light of day as it did in the moment you chose it.

That’s kind of what Simon and I did.  Except, we’ve been living with this one for, oh, say, about four months.  Longer than that, really, if you want to get technical.

Maybe I should start at the beginning.  Or, at least, not at the end.  When we moved here in February of 2008, after less than our first married year in England, we felt quite strongly it was a temporary move.

I have to admit there was a part of me, upon moving here, that hoped we might change our minds, that we might end up staying.  But we haven’t.  Even while I was working for skirt!, I was frequently thinking about how long I should stay there before I quit and we moved back.  When I lost my job in April, it was a slap in the face – a moment to stop thinking about the what-ifs and start to really think about the when.  The following months brought a roller coaster of emotions and locations.  Our lease ran out on our cute little house, we moved in with my parents temporarily, visited Simon’s family in England (where he interviewed for a job we felt quite strongly he was going to get) and then, when he didn’t, we made the decision to move in with our friends Steve and Sarah, who’ve been tempting us with offers of their spare room and nonstop partying for over a year.

Again, when we decided to move the two and a half hours from Raleigh to Winston-Salem, we had thoughts of digging our feet in and settling down.  But we weren’t here a couple of weeks before that old familiar tug set in.  The thing I love about God, and the thing I hate, is that He won’t leave you alone, no matter how hard you try to ignore Him.  Truth be told, I love it here.  And this season we’ve spent here has been a season of rest, of relief, of basking in the glow of His Big, Bright Love.

But I feel the pull back to England.  The truth is, I’ve felt the pull for years.  Since 2003, definitely, when I met Simon and knew I was going to marry him.  And maybe, truthfully, longer ago than that.  Much, much longer.  Maybe I felt it at age 5, sitting on my Grandma’s brown plaid couch, running my fingers over the picture of Queen Elizabeth at her Coronation in a 1950s-era Encyclopedia Britannica.

That’s why my writing here may have seemed a bit distant of late.  You see, my mind has been full of the dreams and fears and excitement and pain of making this big move, and I haven’t been free to share it with you.  So I’ve written about other things that are happening – my new-found love of baking, my pregnant friends – but have left out all the parts about what’s really going on in this little heart of mine.  And I’m sorry.  Because so many of you have written to me and commented here and said that’s what you like about Great Smitten.  And that’s what I want to give you.  My wee little heart, full of its fears and sorrows and dreams and excitements.

So now that you know, I’m free to tell you all about it.  About all the packing I have to do before I load 20-something boxes of kitchen utensils and Christmas decorations onto a ship on Friday.  About the way we’ve been praying for my Visa to come back from the British Consulate in time for our flight out on December 16.  About how I’m looking forward to public transportation and good Indian food and pubs with fireplaces.

I want to share it all with you, and I hope you’ll follow Great Smitten as I rediscover the land that gave this blog its name.

I love America, I love North Carolina, and I love Winston-Salem.  I won’t follow that with a “but.”  I love it here.

I’m being led now, to a country where the Lord has plans for me.  And I’m doing my best to follow.

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Filed under a change will do you good, home, marriage, the joys of moving

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November 8, 2009 · 12:49 am

{Baby Kearns}

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We’ve been living with our friends Steve and Sarah since the end of July.  I love eating dinner with them and watching The Biggest Loser with them and having their support while we go through good stuff and bad stuff.   I also love watching Sarah’s belly grow with their first child – a wee baby boy who will join their family in March of next year.

I snapped some photos of Sarah last week when she got home and we realized she’d grown several inches in a matter of a couple of weeks and finally looked really pregnant.  In this one, she’s holding the ultrasound of her little boy’s foot – he’s now as long as a banana!  Absolutely magical.

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