life

Looking Outside of the Bubble

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I very quickly want to tell you about a meeting that I’ve just had, with a couple of people who partner with Tearfund in India. Some of the meting was confidential, but some things I can share. Talking to people who live in vastly different places, with different problems, is always good. It’s so easy to stay in our own bubble, and to worry about our own problems, and hearing about people who mainly eat rats for supper helps to keep things in proportion.

I was learning about a project Tearfund are partnering with, which has the catchy title: Transforming Masculinities. (Honestly! I kid you not, this is the title they have come up with.) Unlike the title, the work has absolutely nothing to do with people who feel they are the wrong gender, or who want a sex-change, or any of the other modern inferences that you might imagine. The work is about educating men about the rights of women—teaching husbands that their wives are equal partners, and their daughters should have the same rights as their sons—that sort of thing. Crimes against women is still a big problem in India, and educating the men might be a good way of sorting it out. Especially because men in the churches are sometimes no better, when it comes to abusing women, than men outside of the church.

Tearfund is better than me at knowing how to meet need—and how to assess it. One of the workers made the excellent point that when assessing the success of a project like this, initially, you might expect the police stats on crime against women to increase. Because more people will be reporting it rather than hiding it, telling the women that it doesn’t matter. (The long-term aim, of course, is for the crimes to stop, but reporting them officially is a first step.)

The workers also talked, as an aside, about some of their other work—like ensuring people who cannot read or write are able to access the government help that is available, or mending toilets and checking that people in the slums are using them, or ensuring there is clean water available. When you see lists of things like one toilet to every 33 people, or a clean water tap available to x number of families, it really makes you think. This is today, 2024, and there are still families sharing a single clean water tap? Really? How is this okay?

They also spoke about the issues today, which I was ignorant about. Did you know that currently (end of November 2024) the pollution in Delhi is so bad that people have been told to stay inside? So just like during Covid times, children are not able to attend school, people are struggling with child-care and online work—and those are the ones lucky enough to have a job that can happen indoors. The people who have to be out are getting ill, simply because they don’t have clean air to breathe. We talk a lot about our rights in the UK, and the sense of entitlement worries me. But surely, everyone has the right to clean air to breathe.

We need to be aware of these issues, because we are all part of the problem, aren’t we? As I said, we live in our bubble, and if climate change doesn’t directly affect us, it is easy to ignore. If our taps work (our own tap, in our own kitchen—not shared with several other families) then do we even think about clean water? And as you read this, are you hoping to catch some rats for your supper this evening? We live in a small world, we are able to be part of communities that have less than us. Please don’t just turn away. Please think about how you can be part of the change to improve their lives, because they are real people, coping with real issues, they are not just a photo on a charity poster. I know, because I chatted to them this morning.

Thank you for reading, and please don’t just forget about it.
Have a good week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x
Some photos from my last trip, which was several years ago, but I fear things may not have changed much.

Playing in a rubbish tip
Under the paving slabs is an open sewer
Wonderful, colourful, crazy traffic!

Remembrance Day Poem Reposted As Life Goes On

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Now, and Then

IKEA homeware packed in boxes,
Heaps of stuff littering the hall, squashed into the back of the car.
Last hugs, cheery goodbyes, the drive to uni.
Snippets of home, spread around the strange smelling room,
The lanky excited-scared almost-man says goodbye,
And the mother remembers.
She remembers the feel of the bowling ball weight on her hip when she carried him,
The feel of his tiny hands on her cheeks when he offered snotty kisses,
The snuffle of breath as he slept against her shoulder,
She remembers the child as she looks at the man.
As she wishes him well, holds back tears until she has driven away.

Billycans and clothes stuffed in kit-bag,
A train to London packed up tight, hurry to find the right squad.
Last hugs, tearful goodbyes, a band plays on.
Heaving the bag, look around for friends joining too,
The lanky excited-scared almost-man says goodbye,
And the mother remembers.
She remembers the feel of the bowling ball weight on her hip when she carried him,
The feel of his tiny hands on her cheeks when he offered snotty kisses,
The snuffle of breath as he slept against her shoulder,
She remembers the child as she looks at the man.
As she wishes him well, holds back tears until he has joined his unit.

The posts on Facebook show new friends and nightclubs,
Texts assure his food is fine, his studies easy.
He doesn’t discuss the drunken evenings, the sleepless nights, the fear of loneliness.
But his mother knows, she reads it in unsaid words and tired-eyed photos.
And she waits. As life goes on.

There are no letters and the News shows little,
Bold battles move to the Front, the headlines proclaim.
They do not discuss the fallen comrades, the sleepless nights, the fear of injury.
But his mother knows; she reads it in unsaid words and tired-eyed photos.
And she waits. As life goes on.

The war ends. The boy returns home.
Yet, not a boy, become a man.
A man who will not speak of horrors,
Will not discuss the stench of death,
The sight of his friends, falling.
The nights when he still hears the screams, still fears the dark.
But his mother knows; she reads it in sunken cheeks and, eyes so weary.
And she waits. As time goes on.

The term ends. The boy returns home.
Yes, still a boy, almost a man.
A boy who chats and loves to amuse,
Loves to debate the point of life,
Who meets all his friends, laughing.
The nights when they drink, talk at length, sort their beliefs.
And his mother knows, he is safe and content with life, has a future.
And she waits. As time goes on.

by Anne E. Thompson

Anne E. Thompson
Thank you for reading.
anneethompson.com
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Edinburgh University and Spurgeon’s Graduation

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After our stay at Gleneagles (see last week’s blog) we drove to Edinburgh. I had an important meeting, and Husband took Meg for a walk around the city centre (because Meg, and important meetings, would be a bad combination). Afterwards he commented on how well-behaved she was. They had encountered marching bands, bagpipes, crowds of people and other dogs. Meg had walked beside him, looking very like a working dog being trained. (He told me that when asked, he said that Meg is being trained as a Royal protection animal—but I think/hope he was joking!) It was nice for me that he had a good experience, a little Meg/Husband bonding is useful.

Meg in the City

My meeting was at the university. I had forgotten how beautiful the city of Edinburgh is, and my meeting was at New College, which is next to the castle. New College is not new, it’s a fairly old building, steeped in tradition. I was told to wait in the quad, and I walked through the arch and sat in a little square courtyard, looking at a statue of John Knox, and arched windows and turrets, and stone steps. There is a feeling of history, of scholars through the ages studying Scripture, testing their beliefs—and I realised that I really want to be part of that. We will see—I will let you know what happens next.

The Quad of New College
View from New College

My current studies are now officially finished, and it was my graduation ceremony at the weekend. At first I wasn’t going to attend, because I graduated with my teaching degree many years ago, and have since attended the various graduations of my children, and I felt rather old to be dressing in a cap and gown and having a photo taken. But then, when my final results arrived, I found that I wanted to mark the occasion—to finish my time at college with ‘an event.’ I’m glad now that I did.

My MA is from Manchester University, but I have been studying at Spurgeon’s College, and they had arranged for the graduation to be at a big church in Croydon. We went by train, and then tram, and then walked down a residential street and I wondered if we were lost. But the church is huge, and modern, so it was easy enough to find. Everything was very efficient. I didn’t have a paper receipt or ticket, which I found very unnerving (this probably reflects my age—but honestly, what would happen if my phone lost power and all those clever QR codes were lost?) In the event, I only needed my name, and then I was directed by various members of staff (very kind of them to work on a Saturday) to the ‘robing room.’

The gown was difficult, and kept slipping around, and the hood—which was a pleasing colour—tended to sit in a rather racy off-the-shoulder position rather than the neat and tidy scholarly look that was intended. I had taken safety pins to try and secure the gown to my dress, but this resulted in the front of the dress riding up in an undignified manner. As for the hat—well! It felt fine in the fitting room, but as soon as I left, I’m sure it shrunk. It absolutely refused to sit securely, and perched precariously on my head, falling off if I moved too quickly. No one else seemed to have any problem at all, and the auditorium filled up with students looking tidy and elegant, and staff members in a rainbow of universities’ caps and gowns. (Actually, some of the staff graduated from universities with decidedly daft hats. I realise that before applying to do a PhD, a very important factor should be what the graduation outfit is, because for evermore, that is the cap and gown you will have to wear for every academic occasion. Some of the staff had not done their due research here. But I felt feedback would be inappropriate at this point.)

It was fun meeting all my student friends again, catching up with news, hearing what their plans are. We haven’t met since before I started writing my dissertation, which is months ago. Some of my family came to support me, which was a lovely surprise.

There were group photos (the photographer tidied me up a bit beforehand, which reminded me of my mother, who always seems to tell me to comb my hair, even though I am quite old now). The actual service was very long (graduation ceremonies always are). This one was even longer, because lots of the graduates were now Baptist ministers, so there was a sort of church service, complete with extra-long sermon from Rick Warren (our Chancellor) and several hymns and prayers. But I’m still glad I went, and they gave a short bio as each student went on stage, which made it feel very personal. And most importantly, the cap stayed on my head for the whole walk across the stage (it fell off when I sat down, but that didn’t matter).

I hope everything stays in place for you this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

A painting (in the café next to New College) which I really like. Unfortunately I don’t know the artist’s name, but I will add it when I find out.

anneethompson.com
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Mad Meg Nearly Kills Me

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We had a great day on Tuesday. I drove to East Grinstead (Meg is still refusing to jump into the Mini, which is a real pain, she is very heavy to lift). Parked, and walked 10 minutes along the High Street. Meg lurched towards cars when we were right next to the road, but the High Street has a slightly raised path, a couple of metres from the road, and she ignored the traffic there. We were meeting a friend, and arrived early, so we sat at a table outside in the High Street. There was another dog, who Meg noticed, but she then settled down and was peaceful.

When my friend arrived we went into the cafe (the Mad Dog Cafe—appropriate name!) Meg, for some reason, baulked when we were inside and refused to walk any further. No idea what spooked her. We were next to a table, so sat there. Meg settled on the floor with her chew. She barked, briefly, at a woman carrying a tray, and at a baby shaking a toy. Other than that, she was very well-behaved, and I plan to return.

It was Puppy Classes in the evening. There was a new dog, a 10 month old poodle (a big one) and he barked at everyone. Meg responded initially, but then ignored him. It was fairly crowded this week, with puppies of all sizes, and she did very well, sitting and lying and walking in close proximity to lots of other dogs. Only dug one hole this week, so a success. (The class is in the sand school of a stables and we usually arrive to perfectly flattened sand, and leave to a mass of craters that Meg has dug.)

Yesterday was not so successful. I was feeling tired, so exercised her in the garden. During the afternoon I bent to pick up a stick, Meg dived for it, ran straight through my legs, and knocked me flying. Luckily I didn’t bang my head on a nearby tree, but I sprained my knee and ankle, and got a few bruises. While I lay on the floor, winded, with my glasses next to me, did Meg care? Not a jot! She bounced around with the stick and was in danger of trampling me. So much for the idea that dogs are attune with us and empathise with our emotions. I suspect if I had been knocked out, she might have eaten me! Hobbled back to the house for Nurofen and bandages.

**

My ankles are healing well (tight bandages, rested and raised—usually does the trick). I haven’t risked running yet, but yesterday I took Meg for a walk to the stream. This was such hard work. The main road has been shut for several weeks, due to a collapsed drain, which means there has been very little traffic. It is now open, and lots of cars zoomed past us—Meg lurched at every one. This is very disappointing, I have tried so hard to desensitize her to traffic. I’m guessing we made a mistake when she was little, in allowing her to pull on the lead. It’s now a real problem, and trying to make her walk to heel is futile. The best I could do was make her sit, before each car reached us, and held her on a tight lead, with one hand on her head (not sure if that was for comfort or because I was so angry with her I needed to be pushing her down!) There were many cars, it took a very long time to walk the 100 metres to the field entrance.

Once away from the road, I released Meg, and she ran into the field, hunting for sticks and sniffing smells, and always keeping relatively close as I marched away. There’s something about walking fast that is a great releaser of tension—for both of us I suspect. I’m sure if I couldn’t walk fast I would be taking anti-depressants.

Unfortunately, the happy walk was interrupted as soon as we rounded the first corner. A collie was there, called Leo, with his owner, and he was nasty. (I mean the dog was nasty, the owner was simply incompetent, I assume, as a nasty dog should not be loose where other people walk.) He snapped at Meg, who has never met an unfriendly dog before. He then pounced at her, and she yelped—I don’t know if he bit her or just frightened her. She ran off, back into the first field, and Leo followed. I could see her through the gate, she was watching me, but not daring to pass nasty Leo, who was baring the way. I called her, and Meg started to come, but Leo lurched towards her again. I asked the owner (in my very snotty schoolteacher voice) to ‘Please put your dog on the lead because he’s frightening my dog and she daren’t come back to me.’

Incompetent owner shouted, ineffectually, at Leo, and managed to move him further away (though still didn’t put him on the lead). I was furious. Meg is a German Shepherd dog, and they are known for being unfriendly towards other dogs. Meg, however, has a very sweet nature, and will happily ignore most dogs. It only takes one encounter with an aggressive dog to spoil this. I’m really hoping that Leo-the-nasty-collie will not cause Meg to be defensive whenever she sees another dog.

We marched off, round the field, releasing our tension. By the time we returned to the road, with all the whizzing traffic, I had recovered enough to cope with mad Meg trying to catch every car that passed (every single car). Arrived home exhausted.

Hope you have more success with the difficult things in your life–hopefully we will get there eventually. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading. anneethompson.com *****

The Pathway to Applying for a PhD

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Hello and how was your week? Do you have any changes in the near future?

The change facing me at the moment is the end of my MA course. I have received the mark for my dissertation (and was very pleased with it) and as soon as it has been validated by Manchester University, the final grade will be set and I will graduate. Which for me, is rather unsettling. I am not a person who relishes more time for housework, so I need to decide what comes next in life. I have loved studying, and would love to continue, so I am writing a proposal to work towards a PhD. I will let you know whether anyone accepts me. My current college works with Manchester Uni for Master’s level awards, but is not currently accredited for PhD awards.

I have not been in the academic world for very long, so before I could apply, I had to discover the process. There is a way to do everything. This may not apply to other disciplines, but this is how a PhD in Theology works:

Firstly, I have to decide what to research (a PhD is a research project). I am meant to ‘contribute to the discussion’ so unlike my MA, which could be simply a review of other scholars’ work, I have to bring something new. This is fairly difficult, because although I am fully expecting to think of something original as I do my research (my brain generally  finds different avenues to other people) until I start, I don’t know what I will discover. Therefore much reading around topics is required, trying to find an area of interest.

Having decided on a topic, the next stage is to see what studies have already been undertaken. It would be difficult to research a completely new field, with no literature to evaluate. As I read, I start refining my ideas, listing relevant literature, deciding on the direction of my research.

The next (massive) stage is finding a supervisor. Basically, during a research project, you have a supervisor who gives good advice and keeps you on track. They need to be interested in your subject, and be willing to work with you. My current supervisor (for my MA) suggested some suitable scholars. I now have to approach them, briefly outline my project (like a sales pitch) and ask if they would be interested in hearing more. At this stage I don’t say much about me, I simply outline my research idea.

If they are interested, and have time for another PhD student, they will ask for more details. I then send them a more formal proposal, outlining what I consider to be the main issues, the sort of literature that’s available, a vague general direction for my research. If they like all that (here’s hoping!) they will then agree to supervise me . . . if the university accept me.

The next stage is to apply to the university. The supervisor will help with this, telling me how to shape my proposal so it covers the areas the university requires. I apply directly to the university (who expect me to already have a supervisor in place). My understanding is that whilst the supervisor needs to be interested in my project, the university is interested on whether my project will gain the funding it needs, and whether I will complete it in three/four years. (Finding funding is another step.) Both these factors affect their stats, and universities are primarily businesses. If they have students who start but never finish their PhD, that reflects badly on their reputation.

If the university accepts me, then I will be exceedingly happy, and I will disappear into a frenzy of study. But there are several steps, so we will see. I will let you know. I hope your own plans are going forward. Thank you for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading.
anneethompson.com
*****

More Meg

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I have started to take Meg with me wherever I go (that allows dogs). We have walked round the market (stressful) the garden centre (surprisingly good) and the Four Elms shop (excellent behaviour once through the scary sliding doors!) I also take her, when appropriate, when I go out for coffee—I carry a chew and an old towel for her to lie on (not that she does lie on the towel, but it shows willing). She has been to Mum’s a couple of times—the first time was a nightmare and I spent the entire time stopping her eating the carpet/rug/draught-excluder/flower arrangement. The second time was better, and we had a nice chat (me and Mum, not me and Meg) while she (Meg, not Mum) chewed her chew. She does have the snake draught-excluder on her hit list though, and looks for it whenever we visit.

Always fully alert and ready to bounce.

Today we took her for coffee in The Garden Coffee Shop (Four Elms). We walked in, and Meg jumped up to look out of the window, put her paws on a seat, tried to join other customers at their table. Not too professional. We got her into a corner, and she settled down with her chew. Every time new customers entered, she stood up and barked at them (not sure why, no one else had a dog). Then gradually she relaxed, and we had some time to actually drink coffee and chat. After about 30 minutes she grew restless again, so we paid and left. I’m hoping that over time, this will be relaxing for all of us. At the moment, it’s a work in progress.

While the main road near the house is closed (and there is less traffic passing) I am walking Meg to the nearby stream each day. She is still super reactive if a car passes, but we only have a short stretch next to the road, and once in the field she is fine. I have no idea what will happen when she sees a deer, but I don’t think she can run to any roads even if she chases it. The good thing about the walk is that she has to wait at the gate when we leave, so it’s easy to put her back on the lead. She has become very naughty at being caught when it’s time to go home, so I can only take her to places with a barrier that stops her.

7 Months
I talked to ‘dog-trainer-Sue’ about taking Meg on a train. She advised me not to take her to a station initially, as it would just scare her, and to practice things like going through sliding doors, and walking through the underpass tunnel in Oxted. We practice the sliding doors at the garden centre, and Meg is completely fine with them now. But trying to go through the underpass had the same reaction as the tunnel in Instow—full brakes, and not persuadable! We have walked up and down the ramp a few times, but I’ll need Husband to help me get her through the underpass

We went to Cambridge, and took Meg. I took her on a long walk first, so she didn’t need physical exercise. We shoved her into her crate in the boot, and drove (2 hours) to Cambridge. I then walked her for 10 minutes, just to loosen up her joints, and offered her a drink (which she didn’t want). Then back into the crate while we looked around a prospective house to buy, and then drove home. She was great, and I think she just slept or chewed her chew. (I keep the chew for ‘special’ occasions, like when we’re out and I need her to be confined.) Though she did stand up and bark on the QE2 bridge! I don’t think she likes heights. When we got home it was evening, and I worried she might be full of energy, but she seemed tired, and was happy to go to bed. I guess she must have been alert and watching during the afternoon.

Today we took her to the pub. It’s a 45 minute walk, which is slightly long, but I’m hoping it won’t hurt occasionally. She was terrible whenever a car passed us, but we can cope with terrible now. In the pub she settled under the table with her chew, and was completely engrossed unless someone approached the table—when she barked at them. I think she was worried they might steal her chew. It wasn’t as relaxing as when we leave her at home, but I’m hoping that things like this will become routine. It’s easier to occupy Meg if she joins me for my activities rather than having to do things exclusively for her. After a quick lunch, we walked back home. I was tired, she was still bouncing. Such is life.

Thanks for reading. I hope you have things sorted this week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Without a doubt, we would fail this exam.

****
anneethompson.com

Life

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Hello, and how has your week been? Life usually has lots of good things and difficult things–and as long as I remember to notice the good things, I can cope with the difficult stuff. At the moment, I am noticing lots of good things.

The main thing I’m thankful for is my health. I have now had the results from the heart and liver scan (actually, they seemed to check just about every internal organ!) and all is good. No iron deposits were seen, so I can start having venesections and that should prevent any future trouble. I also had my most recent blood test at the hospital where they’ll do the venesections, and it was a very good experience. Unlike the nurses who often take blood or put in a tube (usually related to scans for the brain tumour) this nurse quickly found a vein and didn’t leave my arm looking like I had been in a fight. The hospital space is also very nice, with big comfy chairs to relax in (ready to stop wimpy people like me fainting!) and staff who were really kind, and very reassuring. I came away feeling confident that venesections are something that will soon become ‘normal’ and I felt so grateful for the medics and feeling safe in a hospital (when I know that in some countries, this would not be my experience). I sneaked a photo to show you— not sure if taking photos is allowed in hospitals so don’t tell anyone. I don’t yet know when the venesections will start, but I am ready!

Nice clean and comfy space.
Feeling grateful.

It’s also Spring, and that is a wonderful time of year. I love all the colour, the warmer weather, the busyness of insects waking up and birds nesting and lambs in the fields. Goose decided to sit on her nest (the better one she made, with hay stolen from the chickens–not the rather pathetic 6 sticks thrown on the ground affair that she started with!) I had collected her eggs as she laid them (just 8) as I was hoping she wouldn’t go broody, but she did. I left her with one egg, and have given her a couple of fertile chicken eggs from my old black hen (because she might die soon and she lays lovely big brown eggs). I have also found a few random duck eggs abandoned on the bank, so I have given her those. She seems to accept anything, so we’ll see what hatches. (It won’t be her own egg, as that’s infertile.) Probably she’ll step on the hatchlings and squash them, because she’s very clumsy, but we’ll see.

Feeling broody.
A Buff Orpington who grew to goose-size!

Maverick, the cockerel, is being a pain. He’s obviously full of Springtime hormones and has started to attack people when they go in the garden. I pick him up and carry him around, but other people are less happy doing that, so he has to stay locked up when we have visitors. The thing is, he’s so beautiful, and at night he snuggles onto the nest with Goose (who he thinks is his mother) which is so cute, and I don’t think I can get rid of him. I’m hoping he will calm down again after Spring.

My other news is that my dissertation has been submitted. I now wait 8 weeks for the mark, and that’s it, my MA is complete. I have started to read about cognitive linguistics, which is really interesting, and hope to write a proposal about death for a PhD. (I think the evidence in the Old Testament shows that death of an individual is a good thing, and was always part of God’s design — otherwise a ‘tree of life’ would never have been a thing. Losing someone else to death is definitely bad, and taking a life is bad, but dying oneself is, I think, good. Otherwise when God killed innocent people–like King David’s baby son–he was acting badly, which is not the nature of God.)

There has, of course, been a fair amount of nasty things too. Friends dying, sad funerals, bad news, family being unhappy, and housework — always there is housework, which is very irritating.

Hoping your week has a balance of good things to help you cope with the rubbish that happens. Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

A Normal Week

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Hello, and how are you? Have you had a good week? Mine was very mixed–which I guess is normal (and as I get older, I am aware that ‘normal’ is very precious!)

My main emphasis has been my M.A. dissertation, which is so nearly finished and ready to submit, but not quite. I have a feeling the ‘not quite‘ stage might last a very long time. I am currently proofreading, and checking things like spellings and references. Every time I discuss the work of another scholar, I have to write a footnote, so my claims can be checked. The first footnote has to have their name, and all the information of the book/paper/article, plus the page number. Subsequent footnotes can just have the author’s name and the page number. My problem is that over the months, I have edited my work and various citations have moved around my document, so the first footnote (with all the picky details) is now near the end, and a later footnote (with no details) is near the beginning. I therefore need to check that the relevant information is attached to the correct place, and this takes much longer than you would think. However, despite interruptions from the puppy and Husband and life, I feel as if I am almost there. Hopefully it will be submitted this week. I will then have completed my course, which seems to have whizzed past in a flash. I would love to continue, and maybe study for a PhD, but we’ll have to see if anyone will take me on (I am pretty old now).

The week has also been dominated by medical appointments–both taking my mum for checks, and sorting my own. Medical appointments are always a hassle, and in my experience they are often cancelled at the last minute–especially MRIs for some strange reason. I was supposed to be having my routine MRI to check the brain tumour hasn’t grown back (no reason to assume it has, but they like to check regularly, just in case). But then, after I had worked out train times and arranged for Husband to look after the animals, it was cancelled. Apparently the machine has broken. This has happened in the past (last time I was actually on the train when they called to cancel). Are MRI machines particularly fragile? Do they break often? (Or, slightly cynical view, do they bump non-urgent cases to make space for urgent ones and prefer to give an excuse that cannot be argued with? I would prefer they were honest if this is the case–I would happily forgo my session in the crash-rattle-tube if someone needs it more.) I also had a blood test cancelled, which was slightly stressful as I truly hate having blood tests, and I was actually on the way when they called to say they couldn’t find the paperwork so not to come until next week. These things happen.

Some fun news is the Goose is definitely female, and has started to lay eggs. She made a pretty pathetic nest by pulling a few sticks into a heap, and laid an egg on top. This has improved over the week, and she has now stolen all the hay from the chicken’s box and made quite a decent nest. I don’t have a gander, so the eggs will be infertile, but she seems happy enough. I started to take the eggs as she laid them, but then one day I lost her. When I searched the garden, I found a new, not very professional, nest hidden behind the oak tree, with Goose sitting on 3 eggs. I had to pick her up and put her back in her cage, before the fox found her. I have now left her with one of her eggs and a chicken egg (which might be fertile). I think the goose eggs will make nice rich cakes. We scrambled one, and the yolk was very large. One egg is about the size of 3 chicken eggs, with a very tough shell.

My only other news is that I have bought a new coat. I hate shopping, but it has been so wet, and it always pours with rain when we go to the woods. There is a woman who I sometimes see in the distance, who has a very long flowing coat that reaches her wellies, and I have been coveting it. Today we went to a garden centre that has lots of equestrian stuff, and there were long, flowing coats for horse-riders. I do not ride, but I rather fancy looking like I do, so I bought one. It’s wonderfully practical, with a hood and pockets and reflective stripes for wearing in the dark. I shall swoosh around the woods looking like I have lost my horse, with mad dog in tow. Perfect.

Hope you have a good week, with not too much horrid stuff and a few little treats, so you can feel that life is ‘normal.’ I also hope it rains (it probably won’t rain for months now, and I won’t be able to test my coat).
Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
*****

Epiphany

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Hello, and how are you? Christmas has finished, the decorations are (mostly) down, and the Christmas tree is in the chicken cage (because apparently the needles have lots of nutrients that are good for poultry). It was also Epiphany on Sunday.

In my church, Epiphany marks when the wise men visited Jesus—I understand other churches give it different significance. The story of the ‘three kings’ is one I find difficult; it grates on me. Perhaps it’s because it is the part of the Nativity story that is more legend than biblical ‘fact.’ Though to be frank, much of what is discussed, sung about, portrayed and celebrated at Christmas is quite a stretch from the Bible story.

No one even knew how many kings there were until the sixth century, when someone in Alexandria wrote a Greek manuscript about them. Their names sound definite, but were added to fit the image, not part of the biblical account. They certainly would have arrived much later in the Nativity story, Jesus was probably a toddler given the response of Herod—perhaps Jesus even spoke to the kings, or played with them. My two-year-olds would certainly have not been passive during such a visit.

Somehow, the story in the book of Matthew (chapter 2) doesn’t quite fit with my image of a lowly birth, and it leaves me with lots of questions—did the neighbours not notice the arrival of rich travellers, and did they just forget about it afterwards or was there a big fuss? What happened to the gifts? How much gold was actually given, and did Jesus keep it, or did his parents spend it? Was the myrrh ever used to anoint Jesus? Was the frankincense kept until Jesus died, and it used to embalm him when they wrapped the body? And what happened to the ‘kings’? Did they return home and forget about Jesus, or did it change them, did they tell people (like the shepherds did) and did they even understand what happened?

There are also lots of questions about how they got there—they ‘saw a star’ so I presume they were astrologers, reading the stars to understand the world—which seems distinctly dodgy and in fact, they nearly caused Herod to kill Jesus, which suggests they shouldn’t have been relying on their predictions. It wasn’t until someone looked ‘in the Scriptures’ that they found Jesus. Why did God stop them returning to Herod but allowed them to go to Jerusalem in the first place—when it resulted in the death of so many babies? Were the dead Jewish babies just collateral damage? Is that not horribly cruel, and surely not justified by simply fulfilling a prophecy?

However, the story is in the Bible, so I feel I must take it seriously. It is there for a reason. (I was challenged recently, when struggling to decide if a text was ‘true’ and I was asked whether, if the Bible is God’s word, its purpose is to provide ‘true’ accurate facts like a diary or history book, or whether its primary purpose is to change me.) It surely matters not what we know about the story, but rather what we learn from the story. What does it show us?

*It shows that Jesus’ birth was a global event, not restricted to the locality of his birth. *Even foreigners could worship him. *It coincided with ‘something big’ in the universe. *There is a lot in Scripture about God loving the poor, but this is an example where rich people could bring something of value as part of their worship. *God is able to use ‘supernatural powers’ to ensure we hear what is really important—so going to the wrong place was allowed by God (though don’t ask me why!) but returning to Herod afterwards was clearly stopped, and the astrologers were in no doubt which way to travel.

These are things I can learn from. God did not confine himself to the Jews. God uses poor people and rich people to further his kingdom. I don’t need to worry about ‘not hearing’ God—if something is important he will make it clear.

I still have lots of questions, but perhaps I need to focus more on what I can learn, perhaps I mainly need to ask: how might this change me?

Thanks for reading. Have a great week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com

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Feeling Down?

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Hello, and thank you for starting the new year reading my blog.

I had written a perky little blog, full of chat and giggles–but actually, when I thought about it, it felt like lying. Because at this time of year, after all the work of Christmas (yes, I know it’s fun, and special, but it is also lots of work) I always feel down. It’s the anniversary of my father’s death, the weather is usually grey, and I am deeply tired. The core of me is sad. I want to crawl into bed and stay there until Spring. But I can’t. Life goes on.

So, if you share these feelings–if you too struggle a bit after Christmas–know that you are not alone. Understand that no one can feel happy all the time, and the low times are part of us just as much as the enthusiastic times. Know that it will pass. Because everything passes in time, even the bleakness. And sometimes, when we look back, we realise that the valleys are as beautiful as the mountains.

Thanks for reading. Live your week well, because however you feel, we only have one life and living it well matters.

Love, Anne x

The valleys can be as beautiful as the mountains.

anneethompson.com
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