Renee's wartime story

"I was a child in London when the war broke out. My father was a firefighter, and while he stayed behind in the city, I was evacuated to live with my aunt, uncle, and four cousins on their farm near Wantage. Life was suddenly very different, but I quickly grew to love the countryside and the new rhythms of farm and family life.

Every few weeks, my father would make the journey from London to visit me. One time he arrived with an old, broken bicycle which he set about repairing, fixing up, and painting bright red for me. That bicycle became one of my treasures. I learned to ride it so that I could cycle alongside my cousins to the little school, two miles away. It was my very first school, and I cherished those rides — the wind in my hair, the laughter of the girls, and the joy of being part of something new.

Though I was the youngest of all the cousins, they drew me into their world, and I never felt left behind. One of my fondest memories is of us all piling onto the horse and cart for the four-mile journey to church. I can still hear the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the lane and feel the warmth of being surrounded by family and love.

Even in those uncertain days of war, there was safety, belonging, and the constancy of faith. When I look back now, especially on Remembrance Sunday, I am grateful for the sacrifices made, but also for the small blessings that shone through — like a red bicycle, the sound of hooves, and the gift of worshipping together as a family."