Author: anneethompson

How was your Christmas?

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Hello, and how was your Christmas? Or, more to the point, how are you? Full of food and love and happy thoughts I hope.

I find the work for Christmas begins several days before, when I start making lists. Then I have to rewrite the lists, because I’ve lost the originals. This year I decided to also make a time-plan, like we used to make in Domestic Science lessons at school: 11:40 boil potatoes and parsnips, 11:55 potatoes into oven, 12:00 parsnips into oven…you get the idea. I hoped it might solve the “finding the chestnuts for the sprouts in the fridge, when I put the remains of the turkey in there” problem, which tends to happen every year. It didn’t work of course, but at least I had evidence that I had tried.

Another pre-Christmas job is laundry – washing everything that’s in the dirty washing basket. This was partly because I didn’t want to have to do washing during the Christmas period, and partly because I knew Son 2 would arrive with a suitcase of dirty washing, and I prefer not to have to queue for the washing machine. Husband then made helpful comments about, “Gosh, we must’ve been burgled, and they stole all that stuff you’ve been storing in the washing basket for months.” But I ignored him.

Actually, understanding Husband is sometimes difficult. He often embarks on a major DIY project just as my workload feels over-whelming. Like the year he decided it would be helpful to re-floor the kitchen on Christmas Eve. Yep, Christmas Eve. This year he mended the extractor fan in the bathroom. At least, that’s what he told me he was doing, it looked awfully like he was playing Candy-Crush whilst sitting on the sofa, but who am I to know?

To be fair, Husband mainly helps to stop me spiralling into despair. When I woke him at 3:30am on the morning of the 23rd, to tell him in panic I was completely out of control, the time had slipped away from me and it was already Christmas and I wasn’t ready, and I still haven’t managed to proofread Clara, he was very calm. He just sort of absorbs all my worries and tells me it will be fine. Which it was. Perhaps that’s why I married him.

There were a few low points. I had decided this year to avoid the ‘pull the crackers and then leave all the stuff on the table’ activity which happens every year. I decided to buy those make your own crackers and buy a gift people would actually want, which in my family is alcohol. The trouble was, the crackers did not arrive in pieces, as I had expected, they were already formed but with one end open. So inserting miniature bottles of drink was a struggle, and adding the hat and joke was impossible. I basically had to screw them up and stuff them inside. Which did, I admit, look less than professional when they were opened, but everyone merrily wore scrumpled hats. I guess the alcohol helped.

Another unexpected moment was when the food order arrived on 23rd. Who knew you could buy such tiny packets of stuffing?

The absolute low point however, was our family trip to the cinema to see Pitch Perfect 3. Husband’s choice. I knew it would be bad, but I hadn’t realised quite how bad. Words cannot adequately express my feelings towards such drivel. But everything else about our Christmas was brilliant. Next is New Year’s Eve party – not so much potential for disaster there. Is there?

Take care,

Love, Anne x

xxx
anneethompson.com

 

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Pre-Christmas Jobs

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Christmas is an excellent time to sell books, so when a local bookshop owner suggested I might have a book-signing event in his shop, I was keen to accept. Off I toddled, laden with posters and books, and hoping for an easy place to park. (Sometimes, the most stressful thing about events is trying to park.)

I was given a little table in the coffee shop area of the bookshop, and set up my stuff, then sat back and hoped for customers. Book-signing events are unpredictable. Everyone in the shop is there because they read, which is excellent. However, they do tend to be there because they have come to make a specific purchase, so it can be hard to entice them to try something different. (This is different to general Christmas Fairs, when people are there to buy “something” and a book is as good as anything else.)

Mostly, things went well, and I sold 22 books. It’s not always very efficient, as some people just want to chat. I have found that trying to ‘sell’ my books doesn’t work, so now I simply explain what they’re about as interestingly as possible, then sit back and let people decide whether or not they want to buy one.

My mum was hugely helpful. She caught the bus to the bookshop town (because I had an early start) and then stood outside, enticing people into the shop. I don’t think a single person managed to pass the shop without popping inside. The bookshop owner wants to employ her. If you were one of the many people who arrived inside looking rather bemused, then apologies and thanks. Some of you bought a book, some avoided looking at me and hurried to the opposite corner of the shop; though most people ended up buying something, even if it was a calendar or different book – so I can see why the shop owner was delighted to have Mum there. He did suggest she should dress up as Mrs Christmas, as he had a costume upstairs and Father Christmas was also there – but she declined. Which was a shame, as she’d have looked wonderful with her white curls and sparkly eyes. Maybe next year.

Anyway, it was a fun, if exhausting day. Now I need to prepare for Christmas, and try to fit in checking the proofs that have come from the type-setter ready for printing Clara. But that might have to wait until the new year now. I have just written a list of everything I need to do before the 25th. This was a bad idea, as the list is very long, and there are very few days left. Not sure the animals are going to get much love this week. (There’s an extra one now, as a pheasant has decided our garden is a good place to live. I guess, as the dog keeps the foxes out, he’s probably safer here than in the lane, as long as he doesn’t get into a fight with the cockerels. Not sure how long he plans to stay, but he’s very noisy in the mornings.)

I usually post a blog piece every Monday – but next Monday will be busy. I have lots of people coming for Christmas lunch – including my in-laws, and a range of meat lovers and vegetarians, so what could possibly go wrong? I’ll write afterwards and let you know how things go. But whatever your time zone or religion, I hope your Monday goes well and you have a great day.

Take care,
Love, Anne x

(It’s always thrilling to see my books in a ‘real’ bookshop! Even if my name forces them onto the very bottom shelf. Did you know ‘Lee Child’ made up his name, just so his books would be placed on the bookshelf next to Agatha Christie?)

 

 

 

 

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Thank you for reading.

I usually post a blog article every Monday. Why not sign up to follow my blog, then you won’t miss it?
anneethompson.com

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When You Don’t Know What to Do…….Bible Blog 10

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I found another little gem in 2 Chronicles. There I was, ploughing through Chronicles, which is mostly a repeat of everything I’ve already read in Kings, when I came upon this in chapter 21. I’m not sure if I missed it in Kings, or if it isn’t included there.

The story concerns King Jehoshaphat – who has already been told off by Jehu (a seer) but is now trying to do the right thing. His problem is that a whole ton of enemies are approaching, including his so-called allies, and he’s heading for a brutal defeat. So, he prays. He basically comes to God, and says, “We don’t know what to do, but we’re looking to you to solve the problem.” Ever felt like that? I know I have.

In fact, the whole nation comes to God – it says they came with their babies, and children, and wives (the men would be expected to be there anyway in those days). They came, and prayed to God, because they didn’t know what to do. Not because they had a clever plan they wanted God to carry out for them (so, not like the prayers we often pray). They came because they were stuck.

God answers, and tells them not to worry, He will be with them. Even though they have ignored God multiple times in the past. Even though they have sometimes worshipped other gods. Even though they do not have a great history. God says, because they have honestly come to him in their time of need, he will be with them.

Then – and this is interesting – they worshipped him. They didn’t actually know what the plan was. And all the enemies were still marching towards them. But they chose that moment to worship, simply because they believed God was with them, and they trusted him to somehow sort it out.

The next day, they go to the place God told them to go, and then (this made me laugh) they tell the choir to stand in front of the army and sing praises to God. (I can just imagine that, the church is being attacked, and we tell the music group to stand at the front!)

Anyhow, the story ends with all the enemies basically killing each other, so Judah is safe. But isn’t that a great story? Hidden amongst reams of boring lists. I’ll let you know what else I discover on my read through the Bible.

Thanks for reading. Have a nice day.

Anne x

You can find my other Bible Blogs at: https://anneethompson.com/christian-tearfund-materials-and-poems/

Which Blog? – Comparing Blogspot and WordPress

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Which is the best blog to use? I have been blogging for three years now, and although my IT skills are fairly basic, I manage to navigate the blogging world quite well. So, if you are thinking of starting or switching your own blog, which is the best platform to use?

I began blogging with a WordPress site. It was beyond my abilities to set up, so I had help. I knew what I wanted though – a website where people could access links easily. I wanted to write articles, rather than simply a weekly blog. I was therefore advised to use WordPress, and to find a format that allowed me to add pages. Pages are the links that are static – they appear on your blog when someone clicks on it. They are different to posts. Posts are added in chronological order, so follow, one after the other. If, therefore, I post a brilliant article about self-publishing, after a few weeks it is buried below all the posts I have added since. Pages, however, sit there, in the same place, allowing for easy access. People can find them when they click on the menu.

WordPress offer a variety of themes. I wanted a free one, and one that displayed lots of pages on the home screen. I found one with that option, rearranged a few things and changed the photos, then I was ready. Everything is changed via the Dashboard, which is found by clicking the WP Admin option in the menu. I can then add posts, or pages, very easily. I wanted a website address, so pay an annual fee for the domain name anneethompson.com. Everything else was free. I spent, and earned, nothing. It was lots of fun.

The thing I especially like about WordPress is that people can sign up to follow my blog. When they choose this option, they submit their email details, and then everything I post is emailed to them automatically by WordPress. It helps me to have some idea of how many people actually read my blog. Some are clearly people who sign up simply because they hope I will follow them in return. They opt out again after a few weeks. A few followers are linked to me – family, or people who knew me years ago, or friends. Most of my followers are complete strangers. It is always exciting when a new follower signs up, and it is very motivating.

WordPress show you how many people have read posts each week. They only show ‘visitors’, so followers of my blog don’t show up (they are in a separate list). Nor do my own views, when I click on my site to check it. The stats show me what has been read, in which countries, and the link that was used to access it. So, if I put a link onto Twitter, I can see whether that has been effective or not.

After two and a half years, I was unable to add any new photographs. WordPress informed me I had used my media allocation. I could delete photos, but they were then deleted from the whole site, so if people clicked on past posts or pages, there were gaps. To add more data, I had to pay for a premium theme. This allowed me more data capacity, and also meant I could opt in to have adverts added to my posts. I am paid for this service. Each month, depending on how many people have viewed my posts, I receive credit into a paypal account. It does not include the posts emailed out to followers (so I am assuming they escape the adverts). I wasn’t sure how much I would receive. For the first month, in which it had 5,000 views of posts, I received 13p! Am thinking that unless I have a post that ‘goes viral’, I am not going to paying for dinner any time soon, especially as they only pay out when you are owed at least £100.

I knew of other bloggers, who seemed to have more views than me. They used Blogspot, so I decided to start another blog there too. Setting up was very easy, and I managed to do it, without help, in a few minutes. I didn’t find a pages option, so everything I write appears chronologically, as posts. Like WordPress, you can add ‘tags’ or ‘labels’ – key words which help to direct people to your blog. A little like Hashtags on Facebook, Twitter, and Google Plus. When people do a search using key words, the computer finds those hashtags and directs them to your writing.

I began to post all the same posts and articles on the Blogspot blog, as it’s read by a different audience. There is no option for people to follow my blog, so reaching readers seems to be less predictable. One interesting feature is that many more people seem to read Blogspot. Which makes me suspicious. Are there really more views, or are the stats unreliable? I can post the same post, at the same time, on both blogs, and put links onto Google Plus and Twitter. Within minutes – literally minutes, 20 people will have viewed the Blogspot post. By the end of the day, I will have maybe 30 viewers on WordPress (because followers don’t show on stats) and over a hundred on Blogspot. It starts almost immediately. I can post something, refresh the page and already, bam, 9 views. Apparently.

There are three possible for reasons for this. Possibly, Blogspot is a bigger company, with more bloggers, so when something is posted, there are more people surfing for blogs to read, hence the higher number of viewers. Possibly the stats are recording something different, so they show the people who glimpsed my Twitter link or saw the title of my post, even though they did not actually click on it and read it. Or, possibly the stats are inflated, Blogspot know that bloggers want to have readers, so they increase the numbers of views. Certainly I find that if I view my own site, it increases my stats (even though I have my settings so my own views shouldn’t be recorded). If you have info, let me know. I will continue to copy my WordPress posts onto to Blogspot, simply because it takes seconds, and possibly increases my readership. But my main blog, the one I care about and trust, is the WordPress one.

The main issue with a blog seems to be getting traffic to your site. You might write something fabulous, witty, insightful, but if no one reads it, what’s the point? To begin with, I told everyone who I knew about my blog, hoping they would log on when they got home and read something. I became very boring, conversations were geared to when I could mention what I’d written. My friends were understanding, acquaintances started to avoid me. The thing is, my blog really mattered to me. It was where I was investing my time and energy. But for other people, it was insignificant, and by the time they had opportunity to have a look, they had forgotten.

I realised that the best source of traffic is via social media. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, etc, all give a platform to advertise what you’ve written, and an easy place to add links so people can be directed straight to your blog. The trouble with social media, is that it can be very time-consuming. I am an author, I write books. Spending hours (literally) every day, on social media, is not what I choose to invest time in. For it to be effective, you need to interact with others, it’s not just about posting your own stuff. You have to read what others have written, follow other blogs, comment and share. This can become very superficial – I know that some people will comment on posts I have shared on Twitter, and retweet them, even though they have not actually followed the link and read them! If you look at Twitter, some people follow tens of thousands of people. They cannot possibly be interested in that many people. It becomes a game, and you need to choose whether or not you want to play it. It is a little like book reviews on places like Amazon – sometimes they are more a reflection of how much time someone spends on social media, rather than the quality of writing. There is nothing wrong with that (even presidents can find it fulfilling apparently) but be realistic about what social media is, and what it isn’t. Then decide how you want to find your audience.

Sometimes, I read other blogs, and they are badly written and boring. At the bottom, they have been ‘liked’ and ‘shared’ by hundreds of people. Other blogs are clever and interesting, and will have 4 ‘likes’. I think you need to decide what is important. Receiving feedback is lovely, but sometimes it’s delayed, and sometimes it’s private. I receive emails from people who tell me something made them laugh, or meet a friend who tells me they took an article to a hospice and all the patients chuckled at it, or I hear that an article was helpful for someone. That is very precious, and motivates me to continue. But, to be honest, my blog is not going to be paying for dinner any time soon. Or even a cup of tea.

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Thank you for reading, hope it was helpful. You can follow my blog at: anneethompson.com – oh, and if you feel like sharing a link, that would be wonderful!

 Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her books in bookshops and Amazon. She writes a weekly blog.

Christmas Meal with the Family

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For the last few years, we’ve tried to go up to London, to see the Christmas lights and have dinner together. Not anywhere particularly posh, but just to be together, somewhere different, where I don’t have to do the cooking. Last weekend was the 2017 family meal.

I wasn’t sure if we’d manage it this year, as only Husband and I were at home, and everyone else would be travelling from different parts of the country, but they all seemed willing, so I booked a table and hoped it wouldn’t snow. It didn’t, but it did rain, which made the event damper than planned, but it was still nice to see everyone.

We arranged to meet at 5:30pm at The National Gallery. I chose this time because it was an hour before our restaurant reservation, and my family, whilst wonderful, are somewhat unpredictable when it comes to times and trains and going in the right direction. Well, actually, it would be more accurate to say they are very predictable, and I knew it would be best if we met ahead of time. As I guessed, one child arrived on time, with partner, in arranged place. One child texted to say they were at a station in Hertfordshire, the other was silent, so we assumed they might be on a train to Edinburgh. Nothing unexpected there.

To be fair, we were all together, in the restaurant, at the correct time. We had a lovely time together, lots of good conversation and teasing and general family bonding stuff which goes to make up the best memories. We then wandered around Covent Garden, and through Leicester Square Christmas Market. They did have security on the gate, checking bags, and one person had with him several large bags, hauled down from uni; but when he mentioned they were full of dirty washing, the security were surprisingly unkeen to search them.

We then had a quick look at China Town, before deciding the weather was too awful, so went and camped in the bar of the Curzon Theatre for more chat and cups of hot chocolate.

My family does best when it’s contained in a restaurant or bar, as wandering around places never works. This might be due to the general unsuitedness of Husband and I, who are both bossy leader types that dislike following others. (A matchmaking site would never have put us together, even though we do actually have lots of fun together. Sometimes I think God just wanted to spare two other weaker people, who would have been squashed by our dominant personalities!) The problem is, our children are also not, in any respect, ‘followers’. So when the family tries to walk anywhere, we have many different opinions about where to go and the best route, which means everyone tends to disperse in different directions.

As you can imagine, raising strong personalities was fun, but challenging. Whenever I took them out, I would have back-up plans, just in case. Such as, “If you get on a train before me and the doors shut before I’m on it, get off at the very next station and wait for me.” Or, “If you realise you have lost me, just stand still and shout; and only ask for help from a woman with children.” (I figured that a woman who had children of her own would realise how awful they generally are, and would never want to steal someone else’s!) However, one son informed me that these strategies no longer work, and now he’s a  very tall man, if he approached a woman with children and told her he was lost, she would probably have him arrested.

It was a lovely evening, and stress free, which such evenings have not always been. I remember the year when there had to be a line drawn across the table, so one son’s feet did not extend into my daughter’s foot-territory. And the year when one teenager arrived in the car ready to drive to the station moments before our train was due, wearing a shirt and jeans. Just a shirt – no jumper, no coat. And it was snowing. But apparently teenaged boys do not feel the cold or ever get ill, so it would have been unreasonable of me to comment.

But not this year. This year, they all arrived, from their various places of residence, and we ate dinner together and chatted. A special time. So, if your children are younger, and perhaps not always easy, hold that image in mind. In time, they will be the people who you most want to be with. They will be the provider of your most special memories, the accompaniment to precious moments, and the people who lighten your heart. If they manage to arrive in the right city on time….

xxx

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

 

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An Extract From Hidden Faces

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As it’s nearly Christmas, and Hidden Faces begins as the staff prepare for the Nativity play, I thought I would share an extract with you. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter One

Cynthia Mott was late. She slotted her key into the solid front door and pushed it open, stepped into the front room, brushed her feet on the mat and hurried under the low beam into her kitchen. She dumped her bag in the corner, keys on top of the fridge and bent to retrieve her forgotten lunch.

There was a thump. She froze, all her attention focused on listening. It came again. A dull, low thump. Wood on wood. It came from the cottage garden, which should have been empty.

She glanced at the clock, irritable, there was no time for this, had not really been time to even collect her sandwiches. Another thump. That decided her. She dropped the lunch box into her bag, kicked off her shoes, struggled into the wellingtons by the back door and marched across the lawn.

The grass was still frozen, glistening from the hard frost which had hardened the sprinkling of snow into icy tufts. She crunched as she walked, hurrying towards the shed. The door should have been fastened but a slight breeze was blowing, stirring it. It swung open, paused for a moment as though holding its breath, then thumped shut. As she approached, Cynthia could see the outline of a man through the cobwebbed window. She frowned, began composing caustic sentences, flung open the shed door. She too paused, held her breath.

He was dead. There could be no doubt about that. His face, already tinged with blue, had one eye open, gazing sightlessly at the ceiling. He sat on her abandoned rocking chair in the corner, trousers stained and mouth drooping. His grey hair poked thinly from beneath a brown cap and his feet, strangely angled, were clad in muddy boots. There was a newspaper on the floor, she supposed it had fallen when he drifted from consciousness.

Suddenly suffused with anger, Cynthia glanced once more at her watch. 12:40. The tension rose within her like an icy bubble, overwhelming her ability to think.

‘I do not have time for this,’ she announced, ‘not today.’

Decisively she reached out, shut the door, fastened it with a large bolt. She turned and hurried back to the cottage, slipped back into her sensible low heeled shoes, retrieved her bag and slammed the front door behind her.

***

The road was slippery as Cynthia joined the long line of cars edging their way into town. It was a week before Christmas and lights hung from trees that swayed tiredly in the breeze. The lights did not appear to have any shape at all and one felt they had been sneezed across the branches rather than designed. Shoppers hurried from rare parking spaces, ever aware of the nearing deadline, carrying immense lists, failing to look jolly.

Chewing her lunch as she drove, Cynthia avoided careless pedestrians as she navigated the High Street. Marksbridge was a small market town built alongside the river. It had a collection of small shops clustered along a single road with facades dating back to the 1800s. One of the large supermarket chains had recently arrived on former scrubland at the bottom of the High Street but other than that it seemed that the outside world had failed to notice the town.

The school was on a car lined side road leading from the top of the High Street. As she navigated the parked vehicles, she hoped her parking space would be free. It was not, of course, it was that kind of a day…

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Hidden Faces by Anne E. Thompson is an easy-read, feel-good novel, perfect for reading next to a fire at Christmas. Available from bookshops and Amazon. UK link below.

 

Mary’s Story continued…

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“… After eight days, Joseph came and circumcised the baby. We were in the main part of the house by then, and when Joseph appeared with the sharpened knife, I knew what he was going to do. How the baby wailed! It felt cruel, though I knew it was the right thing to do, even in this strange place we must obey the Jewish laws. We also formally gave him the name Yeshua, the name we had been told to give him by the angel, all those months ago. I wondered if Joseph minded, people would know it wasn’t a family name. (I also had no one called Yeshua in my own family, though I did know a boy from my childhood with the name.)

After forty days, we had to travel to Jerusalem, to pay for redemption at the temple. As Joseph was from the tribe of Judah, we had to pay five shekels of silver. We couldn’t afford a lamb, so bought two pigeons to sacrifice. It was nice to leave Bethlehem and to have some exercise at last, to see people and to take my baby into the world. I felt quite excited as I approached the temple, our holy place. I didn’t recognise anyone, but everyone could see we had a new baby and lots of the women came over to see him. I felt so happy! It almost made up for my mum not being there, it was nice to show my baby.

We walked through the Beautiful Gate and up to the Gate of Nicanor. A timeless place, even the stones seem holy somehow, and permanent, like they will always stand there. The house of God.

Then something strange happened. As Joseph and I walked through the temple, a man approached us. He came to look at Yeshua, and indicated that he wanted to hold him. That was a little unusual but there was something about him, something that made you sure he was a good man, someone you could trust. When he looked at the baby, he got all emotional and prayed, thanking God and saying that now he could die in peace. He blessed me and Joseph too, and then he leant towards me and said something which was very strange. He said Yeshua would cause “the fall and rising of many in Israel” and would be “a sign that would be opposed so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

What does that mean? I know that he is God’s own son, and that he is part of the plan to establish God’s reign on earth. Will he be opposed? Surely everyone will accept God’s annointed one. We have waited so long for him.

Then he said something that made me afraid. His face was very near, I could smell his breath. He spoke in a low voice – with all the bustle and noise of the temple, I’m not sure that anyone else heard. He stared into my eyes, and said that a sword would pierce my soul.

It made me very frightened, I practically snatched Yeshua away from him. I want my son to grow strong and be happy, will I suffer for this? I knew I was tired, not getting enough sleep, and it was hard to care for a new baby in a strange place without my mother to help me. I didn’t want to hear the man’s words, even if they were true. Who was he anyway?

The man left us, and almost at once an old lady approached. She was ancient, her white hair showed under her mitpahath, and she leant heavily on a stick. But what I noticed most were her eyes. They almost sparkled! You could tell at once that she was a holy woman, but also one who loved to laugh.

As soon as she saw Yeshua she started to pray loudly, thanking God, and telling people nearby that if they wanted Jerusalem to be redeemed, they should look to the baby. I was glad that no Romans were allowed in the temple, we would have been in trouble. Several people stopped when they heard her, and stared at the baby. But no one else approached, and I kept tight hold of him. How strange it all was. I felt that I had had enough of strangeness now, I needed a bit of ‘normal’.

We finished making the offerings, and then went back to Bethlehem. I didn’t know whether to tell Joseph what the old man told me. I kept thinking about his words, worrying about what they might mean. I was so tired, I decided I would wait and maybe tell him later.

***

The months passed, and we settled into life in Bethlehem. We moved into a little house and Joseph worked on the many building projects that the Romans have introduced. It’s a good time to be a carpenter, there’s lots of work to be had.

Yeshua continued to thrive. He grew into a sturdy toddler and would walk around the room, holding onto the stools and baskets. I loved to feel his solid weight when I carried him on my hip, the snuffle of his breath on my neck when he slept against me. He started to sleep much better at night, and Joseph and I were thinking about having another child.

Then everything changed.

It was one evening, still quite early, but we had filled the lamp with olive oil and lit the linen wick. Joseph put it on a bushel basket, so the room was well lit and we could talk about the day. Suddenly, there was a banging at the door.

Joseph went at once and there, in the road, was a group of Persian travellers. They had dismounted from their horses and were peering intently into the house. They told Joseph they had seen a star, and had come to worship the king. I was so glad I hadn’t gone to bed yet, they were terribly grand.

We let them into the house, and I went to get Yeshua. He was damp from sleep, and his tired eyes looked blearily around him. I wondered if he would cry, but he seemed fascinated by our strange visitors. They wore their hair in long curls, one had a band of gold on his head. It glinted in the lamp light, I could see Yeshua watching it intently, watching the reflections from the lamps. Their clothes were patterned with birds and flowers.

We offered them wine, it was clear they were tired from their journey. I was embarrassed that we only had two stools to offer them, but they didn’t seem to mind, and in fact insisted that I should sit on one with Yeshua, they were happy to sit on the rush mat. They didn’t really sit anyway, they wanted to kneel before Yeshua.

Then they gave him gifts. They were beautiful to look at. They gave him gold, signifying that he is a king. They gave him frankincense – the strong aroma filling the house. I wondered if Yeshua was to be a priest, even though he is not descended from Levi. They also gave him myrrh. Myrrh is costly – but is for embalming a dead body. It was a strange gift for a baby, and I wondered what it meant.

They told us their story before they left. In their Persian home, they were magi, watching the stars and foretelling the future. Many months ago, at the time of Yeshua’s birth, they had seen a special star, which they knew meant a powerful new king had been born. They determined they would find and worship him. Unfortunately, following the star caused them to go to Jerusalem first (I always knew that star gazing was a misleading activity!) They went to Herod’s palace, and asked where the new king was. (This was scary, Herod had shown he was not a king to be trusted, and his cruelty was well known. I would not have wanted to visit his palace.)

However, it sounded as though he had decided to be helpful. He asked the scribes to research the early scriptures, and they discovered that the promised king was to be born in Bethlehem. The king told the Easterners and asked them to find the king and then return and tell him the exact location, so that he too could worship.

I wondered what would happen next. Would Herod himself come to visit my precious baby, or would we be summoned to the palace? This was not a comfortable thought.

I also wondered why the palace scribes had not come to visit us. Did they not believe the scriptures that they studied so diligently? Surely if they were truly expecting a redeemer they would also have come?

The men left. They planned to sleep in an inn, returning to Jerusalem the next day. We could not offer them lodging in our tiny house, and they seemed content to leave now they had seen Yeshua.

I returned Yeshua to bed, and soon after, Joseph and I also went to sleep.

I had not been asleep for long when Joseph woke me. He shook me awake, then went to light the lamp. I could see his face was tense, and instantly turned to check Yeshua was well. He was sleeping soundly.

Joseph told me I needed to get up at once, we needed to leave. He said that he had had a dream, like the dream when the angel told him that the baby inside me was God’s son. It was so intense and real, he could not ignore it. He said he had been told we must leave Israel, Yeshua was in danger, Herod planned to kill him. While he was talking he was flinging things into sacks, packing up our few possessions, rushing to leave.

I didn’t move at first, and sat wondering why I too had not be warned. And then I realised – God had told Joseph to take care of me and Yeshua. That was a hard task for a man, to care for a son that was not his own. So God was now telling Joseph alone what we needed to do, underlining his role, establishing him as head of our family. It was a kind act, it’s so important for the men to feel in charge, so they have the respect of those around them.

I began to help pack our things but Joseph was hurrying me, telling me to only take what was essential. We were to go to Egypt. Egypt! Could this be right? Was Yeshua not to be king of the Jews? I packed hurriedly and we left that very night.

As I carried Yeshua to the cart, I wondered, what would the future hold? Would we ever return to our home town? The future was uncertain, but I knew that something bigger than us was happening. Whatever happened, God had a plan and no one could alter the course of that.”

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This account necessarily involves some imagination but I believe it is also as historically correct as possible (and a lot more correct than some of our Christmas carols!)
If you are aware of any historical errors, please tell me and I will modify it.
I used a variety of sources including:
The gospels of Matthew and Luke
Geoffrey Bromily (1995)
William Hendriksen
William Barclay
Joseph P Amar (university of Notre Dame)
Michael Marlowe
Tessa Afshar

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy Hidden Faces by Anne E. Thompson. Available from bookshops and Amazon:

hidden-faces-final-cover-6-july-2016

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Mary’s Story

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Mary’s Story

by Anne E Thompson

“I travelled to Bethlehem in a small cart. Every bump (and there were many) was agony. As I was jolted along, I was racked with pain. The baby’s time was near, you see and the pain was almost unbearable. Later, they would sing songs about a cute donkey carrying me. Nice thought! I don’t think there’s any way you could’ve got me on a donkey. As each contraction cramped every muscle in my torso, I huddled up like an animal, and prayed for it to be over.

I could see Joseph, watching me as he walked alongside. He really didn’t have the first idea what to do. Oh, how I wanted my mother. I yearned for her to be there, holding my hand, telling me everything was alright and would be over soon.

When we arrived at Joseph’s uncle’s house, the women folk came and helped me inside. The room was crowded. All Joseph’s male relatives from miles around had come to the house, for shelter and food. The women were busy cooking supper and the men were drinking wine and comparing stories. They all told Joseph how much he resembled his grandfather Matthan and laughed at old stories from years ago.The smell of fish and fresh bread was nauseating. I was so tired and so uncomfortable.

Joseph knew I was suffering and asked if there was somewhere quiet that I could go. There was no chance that we would get a place in the inn, they had filled up days ago. Somewhere quiet, in a little house packed with relatives? There were some fraught discussions, and then his aunt suggested that going down, to the lower floor, with the animals, might be best. It wasn’t terribly clean, but it would be quiet and private and at least it wouldn’t smell of fish!

Joseph helped me go down, and a couple of the women came too. One of them examined me and told me the baby was a long way off yet, first babies always take their time in coming. This was not great news but I felt better having her there. I felt that she knew what was happening, had seen this before and it took some of the fear away.

I was frightened you see. I was horribly afraid that somehow I would damage my baby. My baby and God’s. I knew he was going to be special, I knew I had a great task ahead of me but it all seemed to be going horribly wrong. I trusted that God was still in control but He felt so far away. Could the baby not have been born in a palace, surrounded by comfort? Would these poor beginnings really be part of a plan? Could they really make this king accessible to the people? I had no idea. I was a mere girl, I had no education and my memory of scriptures was often fuzzy. To be honest, at this present moment, I didn’t even care. I just wanted this baby OUT! Special or not, my body was tired of carrying him, tired of being stretched and pushed, of fitting something inside that was now too big to be there. I needed this baby to be born and I was too exhausted to wait much longer. How I longed for sleep.

The pain in my back was terrible. Great waves of cramp that seared through my body, making me oblivious to everything else. I was vaguely aware that someone was sweeping the floor and moving the animals to a far corner. They had laid out a mattress and blankets for me to rest on but I couldn’t lie still for long. I felt better standing, rocking in time with the pain, trying to remember to breathe, in out, in out. Someone offered me water but I couldn’t drink. I wasn’t thirsty, I just wanted this baby to be born.

I could see Joseph with his big anxious eyes watching me. He didn’t know what to do. Someone suggested he should go into the house to eat and I nodded in agreement. There was nothing he could do and the poor man must have been tired too. He had endured such an emotional time lately. First there was his fear and anger when he first heard about the baby (now that was a difficult conversation!) Then he had to endure the smirks of his friends when the pregnancy became public knowledge. He never complained, but I know he felt embarrassed, wished that God could have chosen a different girl.

We had been travelling for five days, with hardly any rest and the last couple of days had been more chilly. I know he felt the burden of caring for me, watching for bandits on the roads and wondering if we would make it to Bethlehem in time. If the baby had come early I don’t know what he’d have done – left me with strangers on the road somewhere I guess, and come to register on his own. One didn’t mess with a Roman decree…

The pain eventually became almost constant. Joseph had eaten and rested, but I continued to sway in discomfort in the little cave of animals. Every so often, one of them would poop, and although the women with me cleaned it up quickly, the smell pervaded the atmosphere. I could hear the musicians gathering outside, someone must have told them the birth would be soon. That gave me hope, maybe soon the baby would arrive.

Then at last, in a final searing pain, the baby was born. I looked down at his blue waxy body as he wriggled on the blanket and I knew that he was mine. One of the women wiped him down with oil and salt and I held him in my arms while they looked for the swaddling bands in our luggage. How beautiful he was. His indigo eyes would soon turn brown and they gazed at me trustingly. I loved him with my whole being.

Outside, there was the sound of music and singing as the musicians heralded the arrival of a boy.

Joseph came and took him from me. He held the tiny baby in his giant carpenter’s hands, hands that spoke of hard work and safety. Then the baby started to mouth for food and Joseph passed him back. The women showed me how to feed him, but he was soon asleep. Then we gently wrapped him in the swaddling bands, securing his tiny limbs so he would feel snug and secure and his bones would grow straight and true. He was so beautiful. It was hard to remember what the angel had told me, that this was God’s son too. I began to wonder if I had imagined it, if it were all a dream. This baby did not look like God, he was a baby. My baby.

“If it’s true God,” I thought, “Let there be another sign. He is so little and I love him so much. Remind me again…”
I too needed to sleep. Joseph fetched fresh hay and put it in the animal’s manger, covering it with a soft blanket. I didn’t want him to put the baby there, I wanted to keep him on the bed next to me, but Joseph was worried I might roll on him in my sleep. Then he laid the baby down and told me to sleep.

He looked deep into my eyes and brushed my collar bone lightly with his fingers. “Soon you’ll be truly mine,” he whispered. I knew what he meant and felt myself blush.

I was so tired, I thought I would sleep for a week.

I actually slept for about two hours! I was abruptly woken by loud voices, and a draught of cold air as the door was flung open. There, standing uncertainly in the doorway was a group of youths. Their clothes were dirty and exuded the strong smell of sheep. Joseph was with them.

“Mary? Are you awake?” he asked.
It would be hard not to be with all the noise from outside.

“These shepherds want to see the baby. They were told by angels where they could find him and they have come to look at him.”

I nodded and they trouped into the room. They seemed so big and clumsy in such a small space, I was worried they might hurt the baby. But they didn’t try to touch him, they just stared for a while and then one of them knelt and they all followed suit, kneeling before the manger, staring at the baby.

Then they told me their story, how they had been in the fields and an angel had appeared. They had thought they were going to die, to be struck down right where they were. The angel had reassured them, told them that a saviour had been born, the Christ who we’ve all been waiting for. They would find him lying in a manger. Then suddenly there were lots of angels, all praising God and saying he was pleased with people on earth. After the angels had gone, finding they were still alive after all, the shepherds decided to come at once and see for themselves. It was as though they couldn’t quite believe what they had seen and heard, they needed to actually see the baby with their own eyes.

I felt so humbled, and so cared for. God had heard my thoughts, He was reassuring me. I felt tears prickle my eyes, and blinked them back, tried to look serene. But I was shaken by how much He cared. It was all His plan, not some terrible mistake. We were meant to be here. He even knew about the manger! I listened and smiled and treasured my thoughts.

The shepherds left as noisily as they came. I could hear them in the streets, shouting their news, telling everyone what had happened. They were so excited! A few people shouted back, telling them to be quiet – I guess not everyone was pleased to hear the news, they had other things they wanted to do (like sleep).

The shepherds had of course woken the baby, who was now crying with a thin wail that jarred my nerves and was impossible to ignore. So I fed him some more and then we both slept. A tired, contented sleep borne from exhaustion and wonder.”

xxx

Continued tomorrow. Why not sign up to follow my blog so you don’t miss it?

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So, Mary Rode on a Donkey. Right?

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  The Nativity story is always told at Christmas time and you probably think you know it well. So, to test your knowledge, and because quizzes are fun, here is a Christmas Quiz.
Read the statements below and decide if they’re true or false, using what we know from the Bible accounts. It did of course happen a long time ago, so using our historical knowledge of that period, some answers will have to be “probably true” or “unlikely”. The answers are below……Can you get them all right?

 1. An angel told Mary she would have a baby.

 2. Angels have wings.

 3. Angels have magic wands.

 4. Joseph was pleased and excited when Mary told him she was having a baby.

 5. Mary and Joseph were married when Mary had the baby.

 6. Mary and Joseph lived in Nazareth.

 7. Mary rode on a donkey when they travelled to Bethlehem.

8.  Joseph knocked on lots of doors, looking for somewhere to stay.

 9. All the hotels were full.

 10. The baby was born on the night that they arrived in Bethlehem.

 11. The baby was born in a stable.

 12. Mary put the baby in an animal’s food trough.

 13. Mary wore a blue head shawl.

 14. The new baby was wrapped in swaddling bands.

 15. Shepherds were told the baby had been born, on the actual night of his birth.

 16. The shepherds were scared of the angel.

 17. The shepherds visited Jesus the night he was born.

 18. The shepherds told people what they had seen.

 19. The shepherds took a gift of a lamb.

 20. Angels told wise men that a baby had been born.

 21. There were 3 wise men.

 22. We know the names of the wise men.

 23. The wise men visited Jesus the night he was born.

 24. When Jesus was a baby he never cried.

Christmas Quiz Answers

 An angel told Mary she would have a baby. True Luke 1:31

 Angels have wings. Probably, sometimes. They are described as having wings in Revelation. However, they were often mistaken for men and therefore must not always appear with wings.

 Angels have magic wands. False. Angels are real. They are NOT fairies!!!

 Joseph was pleased and excited when Mary told him she was having a baby. False. Matthew 1:19. He was rather shocked, as they weren’t yet married (see below) and so he assumed she had been unfaithful and planned to ‘divorce’ her.

 Mary and Joseph were married when Mary had the baby. False. Luke2:5. They were betrothed – or promised to be married.

 Mary and Joseph lived in Nazareth. True. Luke 2:4

 Mary rode on a donkey when they travelled to Bethlehem. Unlikely. There is no mention of a donkey. Ask any woman who has been pregnant if she would want to ride a donkey and she will say no. Just trust me on this. Joseph was a carpenter, he probably made a cart for her to ride in.

 Joseph knocked on lots of doors, looking for somewhere to stay. Unlikely. Joseph’s family came from Bethlehem. As there was no room in an inn, they would probably stay with relatives (though with so many people returning to Bethlehem it was probably very crowded.)

 All the hotels/inns were full. True. Luke 2:7 11. Hence a lot of family, all being forced to arrive at the same time to register, would make for very full houses.

 The baby was born on the night that they arrived in Bethlehem. 
 Probably. However, not necessarily. The Bible does not say when Jesus was born but Nativity plays always show him born that night – because it makes for a good play.

 The baby was born in a stable. Unlikely. They were probably staying with relatives. The houses would be teeming with extended family who had all arrived, and there would be very little space. Therefore, in order to have some privacy, Mary probably gave birth down in the lower floor of the house, which is where people kept the animals.

 Mary put the baby in an animal’s food trough. True. Luke 2:7 14.

 Mary wore a blue head shawl. Unlikely. Although this is how she tends to be depicted on Christmas cards there is no reason why she always wore blue. She was a normal teenage girl and would have worn similar clothes to her friends.

 The new baby was wrapped in swaddling bands. True. Luke 2:7. This was a traditional way to keep a baby warm and safe in those days. They were wrapped snugly in strips of cloth.

 Shepherds were told the baby had been born on the actual night of his birth. True. Luke 2:11 17.

 The shepherds were scared of the angel. True. Luke 2:9. In those days it was believed that if you saw an angel you would die. so, the poor shepherds were terrified!

 The shepherds visited Jesus the night he was born. True. Luke 2:15 19. (And I have to say, as a mother, that after giving birth, I did not think, “Oh, I would love to now be visited by some smelly noisy strangers.” )

 The shepherds told people what they had seen. True. Luke 2:17 20.

 The shepherds took a gift of a lamb. Unlikely. They were working men off to see a new baby. They probably did not own the sheep they were looking after as it tended to be the special temple sheep that grazed on the hills around Bethlehem. (Also, how often do you take a smelly sheep when you go to visit a new baby?)

 Angels told wise men that a baby had been born. False. They were star gazers and saw a star that signified the birth of a great king. Matthew 2:2. It is interesting that as astrologers, they ‘read’ the stars and knew an important person had been born. They then followed the star to Jerusalem, and nearly got him killed. Which shows, I think, that astrology is not really to be trusted. It wasn’t until someone bothered to read their scriptures, that they discovered that the baby was to be born in Bethlehem.

 There were 3 wise men. Possibly. The Bible does not say. They gave 3 gifts, so people assume there were 3 men, but they may have brought the same gifts, or none, so we cannot be sure.

 We know the names of the wise men. False. They are named in a song, not the Bible.

 The wise men visited Jesus the night he was born. False. They came from the East, and started to travel when he was born (when the star appeared.) It probably took them months to travel to Jerusalem. As King Herod killed all boys under the age of two, it is likely that Jesus was a toddler when the wise men visited.

 When Jesus was a baby he never cried. False. This idea is in “Away in a manger” not the Bible! Jesus was fully human, so would have done all the normal baby things that you did, which includes crying.

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 So, does it matter? Some aspects don’t matter at all, they just make for a good story/children’s play/Christmas carol. I love a good Nativity Play, the shepherds wearing tea-towels on their heads, Joseph with his runny nose, a doll thrown into a cardboard box.

However, the danger is that we forget what really happened. We sometimes put the Nativity story into the ‘children’s story’ box and we forget that it did happen and that it is meant to still have real impact today. If we dismiss the Nativity as ‘a nice story’ then we miss the point. The point is that God thought you were special, and he came so you could include him in your life. That is big, it is not just ‘a children’s story’ and it demands a response from us. Maybe that’s why it’s more comfortable to tell ourselves that Christmas is for children…

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Thank you for reading. You can follow my blog at: anneethompson.com

Anne E. Thompson is an author. You can buy her novels from Amazon or bookshops (and they make very good gifts!) Which ones have you read?

 

 

 

A hilarious family saga set on a farm. Being a parent has no end-date, as Susan discovers when her adult sons begin to make unexpected choices in life. A warm-hearted, feel good novel that will make you smile.
Sowing Promises by Anne E. Thompson Available from an Amazon near you today.
The Sarcastic Mother's Holiday Diary
Now is an excellent time to read my travel book. Happy adventures from around the world. Available from Amazon.
What if…a psychopath managed to do something good. Can psychopathy ever be a strength?
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How to NOT do Christmas

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(Reposted because it’s that time of year again.)

How to NOT do Christmas

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by Anne E Thompson

Okay, so it’s that time of year again, when I look around and everyone seems terribly competent, with beautiful houses and cards sent on time. Or are you, like me, still struggling to clear up stray socks and find the floor under dog hairs? Here are some helpful hints for those of you who need to decorate the house, send cards to the correct people, produce a mound of wrapped gifts and cook that all important dinner; whilst also keeping the house clean, the animals alive, and do all the other jobs which fill your life and don’t disappear at Christmas. Hope it’s helpful.

The Tree

Everyone loves a Christmas tree. Here are some things to beware of:
If you take a man with you to buy a real tree, he will lose all sense of proportion. This is true. Crude jokes aside, it seems to be some strange male trait that they always want to buy a tree that is much too big for the space in your home. They always forget the bucket and top decoration adds extra height. And they always forget that you might want to live in the room where they plan to put it – and if it’s too wide everyone will have to scrabble through the branches to communicate. So my advice: do not involve a male of any age in choosing the tree.

You cannot however, avoid them being present for the annual family discussion on where the tree should go. Now, we have lived in our present house for many years and every Christmas we discuss (heatedly) where the tree should be placed. Every year it always goes in exactly the same place.

If you buy a tree in late December, your family will constantly tell you everyone else has theirs already. If you buy a tree in early December, it will probably be bald by New Year.

If you decide to ‘plant’ your tree in soil, over time, as it is watered, the soil becomes unstable and the tree will gradually fall over. If you follow the shop’s instructions and “treat your tree like the living plant that it is” and stand it in water, then after a while, the warmth of your house will have turned the water stagnant and everyone will be asking you what the funny smell is. If, on realising this, you then add a drop of bleach to the water, the tree first gets very pale looking and then dies very quickly. A dead tree will droop and all the ornaments slide off the branches. Your lounge also smells like a public lavatory.

If you ever want a tasteful tree, you must NEVER allow the children to put on their home made ornaments. Every year I produce those faded photos in plastic frames, the robin that sheds paint. I even have the clay angels that my sister made one year, which look like they slept in a puddle after an especially hard night out. It is true, they bring back lots of special memories, but I can now never not put them on the tree, so my tree, whilst full of precious memories, is also incredibly tacky.

If you do not water your tree, do NOT leave the lights on it and go out for the evening or it might burn down your house. (This did not happen to us, but it did happen to a neighbour in the US. A dried pine is incredibly flammable.)

If you have an artificial tree, you can spend hours sorting out branches and colour codes. My advice is: tell someone else that they are in charge of putting up the tree because it is too hard for you (this works well if you have males in the family, who will actually believe that you are incapable of matching colours.) They will also be keen to supervise the taking down of the tree because they will know how impossible it is to put up if not stored carefully.

Decorations

Do NOT believe that everyone who helps decorate the house will also help tidy up after Christmas. Every year I say, “Only put out the ornaments that you will put away afterwards”. I may as well not bother. I know this is true because one year I was ill, and we had a Nativity scene on one window sill all year. I find family members are very keen to decorate all sorts of random places, and not at all keen to tidy them afterwards.

Gifts

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Do NOT buy gifts too early and if you do, do not forget where you have hidden them. It is annoying to find winter nightclothes for your daughter in June.

If posting gifts, do not forget to name each gift so the recipient knows who they are for (you would be surprised at what has happened in our family).

Do NOT assume you will know when your child stops believing in Father Christmas (sorry if this is a spoiler). When I asked one of my sons on his eighteenth birthday (okay, so he wasn’t quite that old) if he really still believed in Santa, he informed me that he had not believed for years but hadn’t liked to disappoint me by letting me know. This was a huge relief for the whole family, as we could now stop worrying he was completely thick, and it also meant that I could give the children their ‘stocking gifts’ the evening before Christmas. Which meant that we all slept much better Christmas Eve.

Do NOT forget to check that either your husband has bought his mother a gift, or you have bought one for her yourself. Really, I cannot stress enough how important this one is……

Food

Unless you are a very organised person, do NOT buy a large frozen turkey. They take days to defrost – and where will you put it during that time? If you leave it in the utility room, the cat eats it. If you put it in the garage, the mice eat it. If you leave it in the oven to defrost, you are sure to forget and turn on the oven to preheat – melting plastic over poultry is not a good smell, trust me. If you place it in a bucket of brine, as was suggested one year, what are you going to do with the salmonella-infected brine afterwards, and how will you stop the dog licking it? If you put it in the fridge, you cannot fit in any of the shelves, let alone other food. Trust me, big frozen turkeys are a bad idea.

Do NOT forget that supermarkets are open other than on the bank holidays. I always do this; I try to buy enough food for the whole holiday period, which is a military operation in an over flowing supermarket, with insufficient parking, and queues the length of the Nile . Then, soon after boxing day we always run out of something essential, like milk, and I go to a beautifully empty supermarket (which is now selling all the food that is decomposing in my fridge for half the price.) Being overly prepared is always a mistake I feel. Just buy enough for the Christmas Day dinner.

If, like me, you have a problem with chocolates, when you buy the family tub of chocolates, do NOT forget to also buy tape. Then, if by mistake you open them and eat lots before Christmas, you can buy a replacement, add the ones you don’t much like and reseal the tub. Your family will never know. Honestly, every year my husband tells me that there are a surprisingly large number of green triangles in our chocolate tin.

Important Things

Do NOT forget to go to a carol service. Actually, I do not especially like carols, unless they are sung by a choir. They are mostly really really long. A lot of them also have things in them that are very European and nothing to do with the actual account in the Bible. But I do like carol services, full of excited children, and people in thick coats that they don’t have anywhere to hang. One year at our church we even managed to set someone on fire. (It was an accident, I should add. She leant against a candle and she wasn’t at all hurt, just ruined her coat. The following year as a safety precaution the candles were suspended above us. Unfortunately, they weren’t the non drip variety and we all made polite conversation afterwards with white wax in our hair.)

Do Not forget to build some family traditions of your own. On Christmas Eve, if my children are in the house, awake before noon and sober (I assume nothing these days) then they still like to help prepare the vegetables. We all sit round, peeling sprouts and remembering how we did it every year while watching ‘The Lost Toys,’ and the year that the youngest removed every leaf from his sprout and then declared, “Mine’s empty!”

Most importantly, do NOT forget what is important. Christmas is not about family or tradition or nice food. Actually, it’s about a God who thought you were special enough that he came to this dirty smelly earth as a baby. Even if you don’t believe in him, he believes in you. And he cared enough to come, so that you have a chance to change your mind if you want to. So spend a little time trying to remember what it’s all about. Look in Luke’s bit of the Bible, and read the account of what actually happened – no donkeys, no inn keepers with tea-towels on their heads, no fairies or snow. Just a simple story of something special.

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Thank you for reading.

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If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy Hidden Faces by Anne E Thompson, an easy-read, feel-good novel, set in an English infant school. Why not buy a copy today and read something to make you smile?

(Also an ideal Christmas gift for your mother, sister, aunt, or anyone who has ever worked in a school.)

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