Tips for Working from Home – with Children

I am a tutor, lecturer, work on social media and mum to four children ranging from 4-17, all in education – or not now.  Having homeschooled in the past this doesn’t worry me (see other posts) but I appreciate the challenge of working with children around.  I am not an expert but here are a few tips.

  1. Be kind to yourself – your idea of being a superhuman and working at full capacity, achieving all your targets, getting employee of the month and having any sanity probably aren’t going to happen.  That’s okay!  Your personal work expectations may need to change down, they may be barely clinging on but adding your own high standards isn’t going to help anybody.
  2. Be realistic – where can you work? When can you work? How can you work? For now it might mean getting up an hour earlier to get some undisturbed time or working in the evening when little ones have gone to bed.  Do you have a space that you can limit interruption (don’t expect to avoid them altogether)?  Try to find a little place, where you can have work things, where you can put work things away and that gives you a different environment.  Even a tray with a pot of pens, plant and some paper gives you a little different space!
  3. Back to those interruptions…. How can you work?  Do you need the computer and internet at the same time as someone else is being expected to use it?  This is a great space for teaching your child negotiation skills!  If you are on ‘conference calls’ explain to people that you have children there – they may not understand and it may not be your ultimate professional dream life but right now it is reality.
  4. Prioritise – I love lists and having a clear pattern of what needs to be done and giving yourself that satisfaction of being able to tick things off is a great motivator on days where you feel like you’ve done nothing but answer a thousand questions, tidied the house, cook meals, stopped a hundred squabbles and been interrupted a billion times… is that just my house?  No financial interest to me but has the most amazing organisers, planners and even just list sheets.  I make lists of lists I need to make just to tick things off!
  5. Wearing different hats is hard, it’s hard for you but it’s also hard for others who might not realise you are wearing a different hat.  Apart from physically wearing a hat or a badge to say what role you are in at any given minute just be aware that for now it might mean leaving something ‘really’ important to be present with someone who needs you.
  6. Interruptions – it makes life more stressful to be swapping and changing but ultimately we are here to be care providers for our family, to show them love, to protect them, the comfort them, to help them.  That interruption may just be the 20th request for juice that is sitting on the side this minute but it might really be about a little person who wants your attention because they are unsure right now.  It might be a strop that is really saying “I don’t know what’s happening and it doesn’t feel right inside” or it might be another argument because I miss seeing my friends, my family, my club, my world.  In ten years you probably won’t care you finished that email.
  7. I need to go, my own advice is pretty good, it’s much easier to read and write than to live.  Lots of us are in this situation – so be generous when you don’t get an email or report back straight away, be caring when you haven’t heard from a colleague and get dressed every day!

    design desk display eyewear

    Photo by on


God is NOT faithful


Eight years ago we left our lovely three storey Edwardian house with a car load of things and headed off with our three children to live and serve in Albania.  We arrived and settled into life in a nice house, once we got rid of the fleas.

People asked us why we would give up everything and go, it didn’t make any sense.  But it did to us.  Our belief in God and our desire to live our lives for Him meant we had said we would go wherever He thought best, do whatever He asked and trust.  WE were faithful.


After two years we knew we were to set up a centre for children and young people in this deprived settlement where hopelessness had made her home.  So we asked our church and they helped us with the finance and there were some rocky moments, some tough challenges, threats to us but we saw these children and young people grow in God, learn in their own lives, become more than they thought and realise that they mattered.  We saw in their smiles, in their chatter as they crowded round the gate waiting to get in that this was what God had wanted.  Our CHURCH was faithful, WE were faithful.


When we felt we should move from our nicer house on the tarmac road to the mud lane swamp area we found a four room house.  It was ground floor, had an entry space that we could put a kitchen and a sofa in, we could use two other rooms for bedrooms and a bathroom.  Sure it also had mould covering the walls and it was TINY, but we knew this was to be our home and so we packed our stuff into a van and moved.  WE were faithful.


bridge over troubled water

Two years ago we set off on a plane, accompanied by our suitcases and a van full of boxes (by the road) and returned to the UK.  We were due to have our fourth child, we knew that this time in Albania to live was at an end but we didn’t know what lay ahead.  WE were faithful.


In the months ahead we discovered we had to prove our nationality that we had gained at birth but lost living overseas, we lost our entitlements to benefits and help.  We had some friends who continued to support us and the dwindling monthly income stretched miraculously.  Neil went for interview after interview to be told he was a close second, over qualified, too experienced.  But we kept going, we had our baby and placed her in a charity shop basket, in second hand clothes, we told the children they couldn’t go on school trips and we all learnt the walk of a land where your passport fits but your heart does not.  It was dark, it was tough, it seemed never ending.  But WE were faithful.


Two years on and I have my dream job, it is incredible and beyond what I could have ever felt I would be offered – tutoring at the Centre for Youth Ministry on the degree course.  Neil is a university student – he never felt he could do academic work but continues to strive for his best and passes well each semester.  We both also have the incredible privilege of working in our home church who had supported us for so long and seeing another generation grow in passion and life for God.  We have our four amazing children, three at school who have faced challenges of bullying, fitting in, learning a new language and continue to fly high and smile and take each challenge.  Lilijana, chatters and sings and worships like I have never seen a child before, her heart just overflows.  Then after temporary accommodation for the past two years we bought and have moved into our new home.  A stunning three story, five bedroom, four bathroom, kitchen, diner, double garage, lovely garden, moments away from a nature park in one direction and the play park in the other.  Our two cars sit on the driveway when they aren’t going to our many activities.  Our life is full.  But God was NOT faithful.


I don’t mean He hasn’t blessed us continually, incredibly, wonderfully and miraculously.  Oh my goodness He HAS!  But this was not because He was faithful in the sense it seems it is often used.  It is not a REWARD for what we have done, given, been.  He doesn’t need to pay us, He didn’t owe us for our time of ‘sacrifice’, He wasn’t in debt to us for asking us to do things.  That was our choice as our commitment and belief, that was more valuable to us than other people could ever understand and that was us, being us.  God is a God of incredible love, a ‘good, good father’ as we like to sing – He gives because He loves to, He loves us and He can.  He isn’t faithful in paying back something that was never a cost, beyond a Call.


When we think this is God’s faithfulness what do we do when the job interviews all failed, we had no income, we are living in that mouldy little house? Was God not being faithful then?  Oh, the stories of that precious home, the memories of that neighbourhood and the place it has in our hearts are more than the flash new build.  God’s faithfulness is not linked to payment or payback but linked to His never ending, never failing, never giving up love.  People say ‘God is Faithful’ in terms of a payback, a settling but how cheap that makes His love and His Call.  Faithful is His persistent love, faithful is His walking through the storms, faithful is His Call to adventure and life, Faithful.

Deafening Sounds of Silence

Silence so rarely happens round here… sometimes the afternoon siesta of grandparents snoozing gives a respite from noise but generally it is non stop.

But these sounds aren’t the sounds of cars going here and there, carrying children to school, colleagues to work.  They aren’t the rush to get the shopping and tick that off the list before moving down to the next “must do today” thing.  It isn’t the noise of heavy machinery or big factories manufacturing work and building for today and the future.  I don’t hear the drones of cellphones full of chattering demands or call centres requesting what you do not need.  No for all of this there is only silence.

The noises I hear are chickens (lots of them), croaks of frogs from the dirty canals, crickets chirping from the empty buildings.  I hear children kicking balls, chattering, playing.  I hear parents calling their children home, shouting across the neighbourhood to where ever they may be playing…. there is no fear here of distance and tracking.  I hear grandparents talking over the garden walls or rickety fences, the milk arriving and footsteps rushing to take their empty bottles to be refilled.  I hear cement mixers futilely creating more cement, for more walls of more unfinished or empty buildings that will never be called home.  I hear life.

In the desolation there is not the rushing, the racing, the fast paced life.  There is playing, family, community.

In the desolation there are not jobs, business, prosperity of wealth.  There is helping the neighbour, spinning wool and knitting needles and prosperity of skills we have long forgotten.

In the desolation there is not the noise of the outskirts of a busy town but the chirping, quacking, laughing, chattering of play, neighbours and freedom.

The problem is the sounds of desolation are deafening, we forget to hear the wonder of what is in this place and only listen to what we do not have.  Struggle shouts loud on these dust and mud filled roads.  Hardships peer from every draught filled, gaping window.  Dreams and desires have often been swept out the door and beaten like the rugs until not a speck of their dust remains.  But in all the broken, empty, desolation there are sounds more precious that many long for, days and times gone by where community was not just a theory or buzz word but was life.  That is the sound I hear.

sounds of playing

sounds of playing… how much fun elastic can be!

Boxing Day…. make it count


Yesterday on the most special day, Christmas Day, from Amazon telling me about their Boxing Day offers on Christmas day.  It made me cross, in fact I love Amazon and because of living here have no choice but to use them for lots of things but at that point I was ready to boycott them I was so annoyed.  How can you have Boxing Day offers on Christmas Day?

Then advert after advert, every news broadcast, every internet page opens up to The Big Sale… come and buy, come and spend, offers, offers, save money, grab a bargain.

Living here makes you so aware of how greedy and materialistic we are in the UK.  We don’t have tv or toy shops so we don’t have adverts here in Albania and so my kids don’t say I want this I want that.  I don’t have the pressure of what their friends might have and having to buy to make sure they aren’t disappointed.  Their friends don’t have.  Really.  If they are lucky they have one small toy car or a stuffed animal. I’m not trying to make your heart bleed I’m trying to say these kids survive and are actually really happy and they don’t have.

So the whole boxing day buy buy buy makes me angry.  The idea behind Boxing Day was for landowners and the more affluent to give gift boxes to their servants or to take a box of food out to the poor.  It wasn’t about filling your house with more it was about saying thank you to someone who had done something for you or to help someone who needed it.  Now there are pictures as embarrassing as the US’s Black Friday sales, people fighting, arguing, stressed, queing up all night.  What for?  For a bargain, for something on offer.  Except I wonder if they really needed it, as far as I can see if you don’t need it and you could live with out it and so you wouldn’t buy it because you needed it you aren’t saving money you are spending money on more stuff.  I love a bargain so don’t get me wrong, when you get a discount on something you were hoping for or going to get that is awesome but we get tricked into needing what we want and then thinking we got a bargain buying something we didn’t really want in the first place.

There is such a huge pressure for people to spend more, put it on the plastic and for many people right now they don’t have it.  They don’t have enough for food for next week, they don’t know how they’ll pay off that credit card, that mortgage, the car payment, whatever.

I just thought it would be cool to get back to the real Boxing Day and go shopping grab yourself a bargain but whilst you are there what about getting something to give to a foodbank?  That jumper will look great on you but imagine the delight it would make to someone who is living without using their heating because they can’t afford it.  That toy will be such fun for your kids but remember what they got yesterday and imagine the delight on a child’s face if they got that as a gift after Christmas to make up for the fact they got nothing this year.  Oh yes a bargain on the food aisle, but as your stomach is still feeling stretched after yesterday imagine the delight for a family who have some food next week, a treat pack of biscuits, a tin of sweets that had been looked at in the store but out of their price range.

I believe that as good a feeling as a bargain is, a bargain bought and gifted to someone else will be way more exciting, thrilling and fulfilling.

(by the way I don’t work for these but I know for people in Kirkby in Ashfield and for Ilkeston area are doing amazing work and would be so grateful for any donations)

Christmas Day Reflections


This morning at breakfast Timmy said he had a passage to share with us… the first time he has ever done this.  He said he felt God wanted to share this passage, he had thought it was in Matthew but found it in Luke.  He could have stopped there, I was blessed.

He went on to read the Christmas story from Luke, in his slightly faltering reading style. he read about the promise of Jesus, the glory song of the angels and that for us had been born Christ the Lord.  He went on to pray for our day and thanked God that He had sent Jesus at just the right time, as Caesar Augustus had sent the decree at that very moment the prophecy of Isaiah was fulfilled.

Of course I was in tears, what a beautiful gift.  A child sharing his thoughts from his bible reading, sharing his heart in his prayers, the things he had learnt and the things he now held.  It felt like my Christmas was bubbling over.

But then, later on in the morning we went to an outreach the churches together were doing.  In lots of ways it does not feel like Christmas here at all, we are the only ones celebrating, to everyone else it is just another day in the lead up to their new year celebrations.  This miracle my son had shared about was being missed by what feels like the whole city.  So the outreach was a great opportunity to at least feel a little Christmasy!  There was a stable made and in the shadow of the main mosque in the city, in front of the cities council offices, the square was filled with worship of this Saviour.  Praise music blarred out competing with the mosque’s call to prayer, people gathered, came, asked, had drinks, were prayed for, were offered bibles and literature, children (and a fair few adults) watched the puppet show and children got their faces painted and had balloons made for them.  It was an amazing atmosphere, joy of Christmas was here with the hope of Salvation.

At one point I noticed coming into the square a little girl skipping with a huge smile on her face and carrying a balloon shaped like a flower, closely following her was a little boy laughing and excited to get over to the puppet show and behind them another child carrying a balloon and looking at the twists and shapes.  What got my attention was I knew these children, I’ve seen them before. Normally they aren’t smiley faces and skipping with joy they are street children, begging for money with big sad eyes practiced for the greatest effect.  With determination to get just a little money to take home with them or buy some food.  Their clothes don’t fit, they are dirty like their faces and their scruffy hair.  But today they were precious, excited, wondering children, not beggars, not the lowest, not ignored or shoved away but welcomed, invited, gifted, valued.

But it wasn’t just them, it was me too, through all my dirt and grime, through my daily failings and drudge, the times I feel pushed out, ignored, unworthy.  I was invited to come excited and hopeful to find this Saviour again, this newborn King, this Child born for me.

I hope you can join me skipping to see again the wonder of this Christmas.

Hitting Reality today

Often life here has become our normality, having made a quick trip back to the UK many, many things there felt very uncomfortable because they weren’t our norm anymore (did I ever tell you about my total meltdown in Asda?!)

Today though was a day I hit the reality of living here in ups and downs…. grab a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive (oooh that would be nice!)

Yesterday I spent three hours putting together the presentation for this morning’s Gazoo Bible programme for kids.  It involved creating a great animated story (translated) as the main point of the story and an interactive computer game for the final fun activity.  So this morning at 7.50am we set off for home school (not at home!) and had quite a good morning.  At 9.30 I went next door to run the Gazoo session.  We had three new boys, which was great news.  I registered them asking their names and date of birth.  It took at least five attempts for the first boy to understand my simple question… what is your name, when is your birthday?  The second boy I asked (now already knowing what I was going to ask) should have been easier and I got his name no problem.  But when I asked his birthday he said he didn’t have one.  I asked again, knowing some people here don’t celebrate birthdays but presuming he just hadn’t understood.  No, he responded again he just has New Year (the Albanian equivalent of Christmas), no birthday.  I checked, do you mean your birthday is at New Year?  No, his friends said, he doesn’t have a birthday.  One of them then prompted him that maybe he had been born in February.  Yes, the boy seemed to think that was a possibility, so we wrote February as a month, any idea as to the date?  No, no, no.  He just didn’t have any idea when he had been born, no one had ever celebrated with him the fact that he had been born, the importance of him, who he is.  I told him I thought he was really important and that I knew the world had changed the day he was born, he had changed history because he is alive and I would like to celebrate the fact he is alive.  Together we decided that we would celebrate him being alive on February 14th, the day of love as I hope if nothing else this morning he will remember that there is a God who planned for him to be alive and loves him.

Still reeling a bit from this we played the first game and then the electricity cut out meaning all my great multimedia work was for nothing.  Ah well, we carried on and had fun.  When we got home we discovered that we had no water in our tank soon followed by our electricity cutting out as well.  I smiled when I checked with the neighbour if they had electricity… you live in Albania they said!  I know and today I have been reminded!

(this was the shirt the boy wore to one of the Summer camps that says “Believe” on the back!)Image

Next? Encouragement.

As most know we are wondering what lays ahead in our future. We originally committed to three years but with a view to five years in our mission journey in Albania but now we are in year 4 with the fifth approaching quickly there is no escape from the question what next?
We of course continue to ask God, we need to ask our supporters as without financial support this door is definitely shut but we also have such a mixture of fear and questions that we so want for these not to cloud our decisions.
Neil had a dream to serve in Albania since he was 13 and someone asked us, what happens when you finish do you get a new dream, we looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders but both silently said “I hope so!” We have met many inspirational missionaries who have long term visions for their countries but also some who we can see clearly stay because it becomes the easier option.
We have always been clear we are just very normal people, not super Chrisitians or with some special five star staff badge. We are us. Shouting, moaning, grumpy, laying, happy, need to pray more, read the bible more, go to church more, us.

But now that us does have a job title which is possibly the most fantastic…. Missionaries. It means we are clearly defined to be trusting God, living by faith but what we like the most maybe, doing our thing with only the big man to answer to. We only do what we did in our own country, we know loads of people who are serving God more radically in our old community but we get the good job title that makes people think we are somehow more arming, holy, incredible. We are not.

But what next? To go back to slogging away without the cool title. Living without the amazing summer weather and proximity to the beach. Taking the kids away from the life they know, the friends they love and the culture which is more theirs than their nationality.

We don’t have another calling. We don’t have a burning dream. We see the kids at the gate of Burime, the neighbours who need a Saviour, the openness to finding out about God and see we could stay here forever and still there be a need. But we are not the solution, we are just reflections for now, we are here in this season.

So with all these rumblings you see the questions that are before us each day. What next? Where next? How long and how? How I wish I had a map to follow.

And then, within four days we have been told that people want to support what we are doing financially. We have a team and five individuals wanting to come to be a part of what we are doing. Just the encouragement in the midst of questions that other people see not the tag of missionaries but the touch of God and what is happening here. I don’t know the answers (yet!) but I am so very grateful for the people who believe in this journey, have and still walk with us and will be beside us no matter what our job title. For the times people show us a bit more of the map, the journey. Of course, a few answers would be nice!


Cultural eyes

This morning we went to church. One of the struggles I have living here is loss of my family, my church. We have not found that place, partly political pushing, sometimes serving needs and just the fact we have not found that place that resonates home. Anyway, Timmy asked to go to church today, normally we just meet once a month so we want to another church where we have always been welcomed and the children have friends at.
Early on a YWAM team were introduced who are visiting for two weeks, they are eye doctors. They are running eye clinics. I immediately got the sense that was why we were here this day and this time.
My heart began to race and I just wanted to get the time to talk to them, I knew this was a God designed moment. Why? Shpetimi.

Shpetimi is a little boy who has made a huge impact on our family. We first met him at my english classes squashed into my friend’s front room. He sneaked in with his brother when he was too young. But he became friends with Eden and we were thrilled and grateful when Eden started school and who was in his class? Shpetimi.

I had been invited to visit his house and on doing so had made a friend in his mum, Dhurate (meaning gift). His older brother has always been to our things and helps us with his over enthusiastic friendliness. In fact it is because of this family we moved to where we live, because of their friendship and the sense that God was in it.

Shpetimi means “Saviour” or “saved” and he was named because he was born prematurely and it is a real miracle he survived. A miracle not without cost. Shpetimi only has one eye, his other is closed and blind, his mum says due to his difficult birth. She told me they could have operated and saved the sight but they could not afford it. Imagine that.

Eden decided fairly early into his friendship that he was going to pray for Shpetimi to get his sight back in that eye, whenever a bible story comes up about blindness Eden is quick to use it to prove God can heal Shpetimis eye. It also had become my prayer, the miracle that would show God’s power, grace, mercy and love. The little boy Saviour to this community through his miracle, it is my dream.

So, back to this morning, the eye doctors here. I raced over at the end and asked who I could talk to to tell the story and ask if they would see Shpetimi. The response made me want to cry. They are on a tight schedule and there are lots of people, he could come at the end of the day. I explained he is at school in the afternoons and it would be hard to convince his parents to take him out of school for an appointment that I don’t want to build up to give false hope because of my dreams. Well, that is the only time, if they want us to look at him, that is the time they must come. My excitement and hope crushed by what felt like a cold response. But who is he to them? Just another patient no more important than someone else, but to me he is precious, more important because I know his smile, his laughter, I’ve watched him struggle twisting his head to see why others can and I fear for his future, for a day when he may not be able to see at all. To them just one to me the one.
But that’s us too, isn’t it? People may look and think we don’t matter but we do, with this passion that makes me angry, frustrated, desperate for the best, God looks at us.

I will go and talk to his mum, pray for words that give confidence but not false hope and pray that he can be seen but more than that they can do something. I believe in miraculous healing but you know what, I’m happy to take the skill of a doctor who has travelled to be here at this time.

It’s not just Bangladesh
I heard this story on the news, a fleeting story, thousands dead but on to the millionaire footballer who bit someone’s arm. The thing is, it’s not just Bangladesh and places at seem so far away.
Let me tell you about my friend, her little girl is in the same class as Timmy, aged 8. At 6:30am my friend leaves her house before her little girl has woken up, she doesn’t even know what time she wakes up. She walks the journey to work and arrives at the bright orange factory amongst a throng of hundreds of other women. If she is ill she cannot phone in sick, if her daughter is ill she cannot phone in sick… If she doesn’t turn up she is told someone else will take her place, her job. That is true. She sits in a big room making designer dresses, cutting the luxurious fabric, hand sewing the sequins on a prom dress that may be worn once, stitching together the pieces of the Valentino dress. She will be there until 4pm, in rooms without heating or air conditioning with temperatures up the high forties, stuffed together and told to work. There is a lunch break of thirty minutes, no cigarette breaks or toilet breaks, just work and get on with it.
After placing the stunningly beautiful gown into a protective plastic cover to show its value it’s price tag is added. The figure is in the thousands of Euros.
My stunningly beautiful friend will work all week these hours, six days a week 49 weeks a year (you may have a holiday in August) for a few thousand leke… Sounds a lot until the exchange rate hits you at less than £80.
She takes the money back to the home she lives in, shared by her mother and father in law. She gives them her pay cheque, it is not money for her, if she wants something she must ask and reason.
She picks up her daughter from school and we walk home together, she wants to walk slowly to make the most of this time she has before she gets to the house and has to start all the chores to care for her in laws and their house as is her duty. Ten minutes after we got home last week she was outside with a shovel clearing a lorry load of soil. It was her job to clear it after her day at work.
She is a Christian but she is not allowed to go to church, she is not allowed a bible and when she has been given one they have been ripped up in front of her, she is told she may not have a bible.

She thanks God for her work, her job. She thinks she is blessed.
So does my other friend a widow with two little boys, so do my neighbours who see their children for a couple of hours after work in between all the housework that they have to do because they are women.
It’s not just Bangladesh and cheap clothing, it’s right here on my doorstep and yours but who cares?

challenge to make a difference this Lent.

challenge to make a difference this Lent.

Lent, its a funny name for a period of time, why Lent? Yeah I could google it, but can’t be bothered, I’ll share my thoughts instead (oh joy!)  

Lent, a period of time we have been lent to sacrifice  something in order to bring us closer to the One who gave us time.  We were ‘lent’ Jesus, to become a sacrifice on the cross for us, and in turn we can lend ourselves to God over this time.

It bugs me when everyone is like “What are you giving up for Lent?” I’m not a big giver upper and don’t really encourage it in people around me.  Why give something up, oh I know traditionally that’s where we get pancake day from and believe me I would be the last to condone any reasoning that may suggest we give up pancake day.  It was to use up the fatty products, but if we take that route, how many people now will not use any of those products up until Easter….hmmm.  So what about the sacrifice, well that’s the bit where I don’t like the whole giving up thing.  I’m giving up chocolate – yep, well I only know a very very very few (and in my book amazingly strong willed and inspiring) people who do that for God.  I’m giving up Facebook, great so you are going to spend that time doing something for God or with him? hmmm again.  

So I’m not into giving up, then I found the and it looks such a great idea – a challenge everyday (yes I am a little competitive) but it is something to push me to do something for someone else or to make a difference.  At the end of the 40 days, I’ve achieved something, I’ve improved myself because I’ve changed something in my thinking that’s not about me but looking out on the people and places around me.  

So 40acts, bring it on!