Category Archives: the joys of moving

December 15, 2009 · 11:05 am

It’s only “see you later.”

Yesterday, Simon and I loaded a large portion of our earthly belongings into our 1998 Saturn station wagon and made the 2-and-a-half hour drive from Winston-Salem to my parents’ house in eastern North Carolina.  (The other portion of our earthly belongings is currently on a boat somewhere in the Atlantic, making its way to a port in Felixstowe, England.)

I’m here now, at my parents’ house, sitting under a red afghan in their living room, drinking a cup of decaf coffee (they switched because my dad’s blood pressure was too high), and taking deep breaths.  There have been a lot of goodbyes over the past few days.  But so many of those goodbyes have come with “See you in May”s and “Talk to you tomorrow”s and plans for weekly coffee dates via Skype.  As my sweet friend Emily put it, “This isn’t the end of something.  It’s a change, and it just means we have to make use of different technology.”

And thank goodness for technology.  For as much time as I spend lamenting the dirth of authentic communication caused by emails and facebook, I have to hand it to them – and to Skype, and iChat, and gChat and everyone else – they make my goodbyes much more bearable.

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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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July 20, 2009 · 5:54 pm

“You’re ruining moving day!”

On our anniversary this year, my husband made a list of all the things he loves about me.  One of my favorites?  He said he loves the way I have a special outfit for every occasion, kind of like Barbie.

Let’s see…there’s DIY Faith (jeans with hole in the knee, plaid button-down, brown Chuck Taylors), Sporty Faith (black yoga capris, sports bra, tank top, running shoes), and Summer Wedding Faith (strapless dress – pick your color – sandals, clutch, and a big bangle).

Today, I was Moving Day Faith (old denim capris, blue and white striped tank top, no makeup, bangs pinned back, bossy face on).  That’s right; we moved today.  We currently reside in the basement of my friends’ Steve and Sarah’s house, where I’m sitting right at this very moment.  I’ve arranged our living room furniture down here, lit a few candles, put up some photos of me and Simes and, I must say…it’s all looking quite homey.

Next on my to-do list: job-hunting.  If all goes well, I’ll soon be Interview Faith (cream cardigan, brown pencil skirt, brown heels).

*By the way, tell me where the quote “You’re Ruining Moving Day!” comes from in the comments section, and I’ll choose from the correct answers for a verrry special prize.  Ready?  GO!

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June 30, 2009 · 3:43 pm

Sweet, sweet home.

For nearly a year, I’ve been waiting.  

Waiting for it to have been a year since we left England, so that we could go back, shamelessly.  Desperate.  Homesick for a place that, by all normal definitions, is not my home.  If we could just wait a year, we could say we really tried.  That we gave America a fair chance – that magic number: One Year – and it just wasn’t for us.

I missed the trains, the bakeries and the Saturday markets.  I missed our house group, our church, our tiny little flat that was once a Post Office.  Our life there had been perfect.  That’s what I told myself.  

I interviewed the owner of a well-known restaurant in Chapel Hill before Christmas, and she told me she’d moved here from New York for love, and that it had taken five years for it to feel like home; for her to let go of the notion that she was just visiting, and would return to her city any day.  

I felt sick.

And so, when we went to England on June 3, I was prepared to scope out London neighborhoods and job opportunities.  Simon even had an interview.  

But we had only been there a few days when we started to realize that we didn’t want to slot back into our old life.  Things are different now.  We’re different.

2008 was, quite possibly, the worst year of my life.  Because of bureaucratic nonsense, I was separated from my husband for four months, and forced to celebrate our one-year wedding anniversary during a weekend jaunt back to England.  My faith suffered.  My health suffered.  Anxiety and depression assaulted me at every turn.  

But it’s not America’s fault.  And maybe that’s why we need to be here now, to see that God is good to us on both sides of the world.  To see that home has become something new.  It is not the town where Simon grew up, or our 500 square-foot flat, or my parents’ white farm house.

Home, for now, stands alone.  It is independent of a city or street – it is the cloud of love, of friendship, of community, where we make our life together.

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June 28, 2009 · 3:16 pm

Pack your bags, we’re headed west.

I’ve got to get something off my chest: three weeks ago, I was preparing my heart to return to England.  

But things change quickly, and if I’ve learned anything this year, it’s not to fight it.

We’re moving, alright, but not overseas.  We’re not even moving out of state.  We’re just moving west: toward the mountains, toward the cooler weather.  Toward trees that turn red and gold in the Autumn, and where there are hills to sled down when it snows – which it does more often – instead of miles and miles of flat, flat cotton fields.

We’re moving to Winston-Salem.  To the home of tobacco –  (I went to college up there on a Reynolds’ Scholarship, my student mantra: “Keep smokin’, folks.  You’re payin’ for my education.”) – and Moravian stars, and Krispy Kreme.  

We’ve been talking about this possibility for over a year.  We’ve got amazing friends in and around Winston, but now it seems right.  And it’s funny how God can bring you full circle, back to something you already considered and ruled out.  It wasn’t the wrong place, just the wrong time.  Our hearts weren’t ready yet.  

Now they are.

And so I covet your prayers: for a house, for jobs, for a church, and for a community where we can feed and be fed.

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May 28, 2009 · 12:47 pm

Here we go again.

Since Simon and I got married, it has been our constant prayer that our life would glorify God, and that it would never – ever – be boring.

There are days, like yesterday, when part of me would like to take that prayer back.  

We told our landlady back in April, when I got laid off, that if she found someone who’d like to rent our house, we’d move out before our lease is up at the end of June.  We thought we could move in with my parents for a couple of months to save some money and figure out where we’re headed from here.  We hadn’t heard much, but then two nights ago, when we returned from helping our friends Steve and Sarah settle into their new home in Winston-Salem, we had a message from her saying she’d found someone, if we were still interested.  

Our first reaction was, “No, that’s too soon.  We’re not ready.”

But then we thought about it.  We’re going to England for two weeks in June, and to the beach with friends for a week.  Three weeks out of June we won’t even be here, and then we’ll move out after that – so what’s the point of paying rent?  Not much.  

In the meantime, we’d decided next week would be the best time for the visit to England we’ve been craving.  So now we’re moving this weekend, and leaving for England on Thursday.  We’re having a good clean-out and throwing loads away.  And we’ve got friends coming in from out of town this weekend (to watch the FA Cup Final), so you’d better believe we’ll be recruiting them to pack boxes after the match.

Yeah, it’s pretty chaotic.  

But we asked for it.  

Ever prayed a prayer you wanted to take back?

(ps – Interested in buying an organ?)

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April 27, 2009 · 3:00 am

To bloom, I must be planted.

When I got engaged two and half years ago and told my mom I was moving to England, she said she’d known all along; that she’d begun preparing herself when I was still a young teenager for the day I would inevitably leave the nest with gusto.

I’ve always prided myself on being a nomad, never content to settle down, to be still, to plant my feet too firmly. And so I haven’t really known how to handle the change that’s been taking place in me lately: an unfamiliar longing for a home, a place to stay and call my own. I am a renter, a mover, an anti-planner who fears commitment in all its forms; at least, that’s who I’ve always been.

But who says people can’t change? 

I want to paint my walls, plant a garden, and prepare a nursery.  I want to start ministries at my church that I know I can see through. I want to stock my house with comfy furniture and not worry about where I’ll store it when I go on my next jaunt. I’m tired, at last, of moving and shaking; I’ve reached that point I thought would never come, when I want to plant my feet and bloom.

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January 6, 2009 · 5:46 pm

Things I miss about Chesham

Walking down this street every day.

chesham-high-street1

My brother-in-law.  And tiny doors.

dan-n-door

St. Mary’s Church (circa 12th century)

st-marys

Caffé Nero, the French Market, fruit stalls, buying a baguette at the bakery, Lowndes Park, Friday nights at the Post, Thursday nights at Ben and Helen’s, Waitrose, Topshop, movies with Phil and Beshlie, Orange Wednesdays, Waterstone’s, trains, tea, Innocent smoothies, Old Chesham

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August 21, 2008 · 8:45 pm

Mi casa es su casa…and, well, not really mi casa at all.

Things I love about renting:

  • I don’t have to commit.
  • Someone else cuts the grass (and fixes the toilet).
  • I have an excuse as to why I can’t keep my sister’s psycho cat.

Things I hate about renting:

  • I freak out every time I see a scratch on the floor and have to get down on my hands and knees to examine it and make sure it happened pre-my moving in, and not post-.*
  • Painting the walls is either a) prohibited or b) too much of a pain to do if I’m just going to have to re-paint it the original color in a year.**
  • There are sometimes randoms walking around in my backyard because my landlady called them to come and chop down a tree.

*We’re very lucky, actually, because the hardwood floors were refinished right before we moved in, and we can tell the age of scratches based on whether or not they’ve been stained over. Very handy.

**I’ve recently discovered these removable wall decals from http://www.whatisblik.com and am trying to decide between this one and this one and this one.

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June 25, 2008 · 1:26 pm

Our House, Part 1

Things you learn while you’re moving:  Mattresses ain’t cheap.  We need a bed, but we also need a computer and a car for Simon, and about a million other things, so we begged Simon’s brother to let us borrow his mattress for a few weeks while he’s traipsing around the US with his English friends.  He politely agreed.  So, last night, after work, Simes and I hit the road to Greensboro in my dad’s pick-up truck.  With gas prices like they are now, I should have realized it was going to cost a pretty penny to travel the 200+ miles round-trip.  I think Simon put $45 in the truck in the afternoon, and I stuck $30 more in last night, before we returned the truck to my dad.  $75 to borrow a mattress.  Ouch.

I thought I’d grace you with a few photos Simon snapped during the move on Monday.

Ready to go

My front porch

The kitchen of my dreams (almost)

Open plan

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