Six children sit, mesmerized, transported through time. Even the baby senses the moment.

It’s 1940. London. The bombing has stopped…for the time-being.

At the station

A knock at the door.

“Five minutes.”

“Five minutes?”

Six pairs of bright round eyes stare up at mother while she describes the future in too-short explanations, answering questions, trying to comfort, keeping her face stolid despite the pain ravaging her mother heart.

“You are taking the train. To the country. To a family there. Not safe here. The bombings. The Luftwaffe. The Nazis. No, it’s not forever. Yes, you can bring your doll. No, no, my loves, Mother cannot come. There is only room for the children.”

All aboard!

“Five minutes, my darlings. We leave for the station in five minutes. Go pack your things. Only what you must have. Only what you can carry. No, the baby will be going with you. Now hurry.”

The spell is broken as children run shrieking through the house, four girls in search of what they cannot live without, one boy enamored with the idea of riding on a train, albeit a pretend train, and one baby toddling, falling, crawling after anyone who passes near, not wanting to miss the excitement…or the train.

Five minutes, six children. They march to the train, necessities in tow, wave goodbye, and are gone.

Bye Mommy

My own mother heart ponders this separation, this ripping apart, this empty death for a moment longer than do the children. For them this is just another adventure into history, the destination always the same–safe at home, safe with Mommy and Daddy, safe in the arms of God, an American, free, for the moment.

But the lesson has not passed completely without touching their young minds. Their childhood stops for a moment as they think “what if” and “thank you God.” And then they move on, a little more appreciative, a little more aware, a little more content.

* * * * *

Six children, five bundles of “essentials” chosen without parental intervention apart from one nagging reminder to remember their teeth and please pack clean underwear. The contents are revealing.

Hannah revealed:

Sticking together

• addicted reader: the Bible, the complete guide to the horse, library card
• incurable horse lover: alarm clock (to wake up bright and early in case the family has horses that she could take care of), K’ainapu (stuffed horse), book of pet names (in case any baby horses were born there that needed a name)
• reluctantly mindful of her appearance only because her parents require it: hair brush and hair bands, toothpaste and toothbrush, one change of underpants, two changes of shoes, a pretty scarf, pimple stuff (because Mommy would be bugged if I came home with pimples as big as my head)
• young and sentimental: stuffed cat named “Socks,” Kirsten’s doll “Sari” (to remind me of Kirsten, the American Girl)
• a little obsessive…just a little: a timer (to time myself doing whatever I have to do)
• prepared for anything (people germs especially): big fluffy purple socks (in case it got cold), church sandals and tennis shoes, purse loaded with hand sanitizer, tic tacs, notepads, pens, tissues, candy wrappers, empty gum case, calculator, glasses, change, chapstick, tinsy winsy calendar, dollars, and a church bulletin from her collection, all wrapped in a blanket.
• very, very responsible: her baby sister

Marissa revealed

Excited

• consummately well-groomed: undershirt, underpants, socks, shirts, three pairs of shoes, hair brush, day cream, night cream (you just don’t know what the air of the British countryside could do to that 10-year-old skin), toothbrush, toothpaste, a sash (in case my other accessories did not work out very well)
• sleep expert: bedside fan, giant stuffed bear
• daughter of her parents: food
• still a little girl and an animal lover: Emily’s toy monkey, doll, Schleich Tinker (toy Gypsy Vanner horse), baby black horse
• “prepared”: purse containing notebook, squirt gun (for my protection–had this been real, I think we would have packed her a real one), money, chapstick, gum (why do my children remember gum and toys, but have to be reminded about clean underpants and a toothbrush


Her bundle

Elisabeth revealed:

• lover of books: four books which are Thimble Summer, Horseland II: Back in the Saddle Again, Alice in Wonderland, Danger After Dark (because I like books), four bookmarks (for four books…obviously)
• not inclined to empty out her bag: a paper dinosaur that’s junky (it was a stowaway leftover from the library), Emily’s old school list, another paper dinosaur, miscellaneous dinosaur parts, an empty M&M bag, silica gel (do not eat)
• not overly practical: pants that don’t fit, a little people person toy
• not overly impractical: a comb, toothpaste, toothbrush, five pens (for the child who is allergic to writing), the contents of her purse including tic tacs (what is it with my children and tic tacs?), tissues, hand sanitizer, an on-the-road comb, two chapsticks, a gift certificate from Daddy for the dessert of her choice (can’t leave that behind), $4.61, two $1 gift certificates to Wal-Mart (because you just never know)
• not overly fond of doing the laundry: seven pairs of underwear…but no other clothes
• rather conscious of germs:  a cup (in case the host family doesn’t have decent, i.e. clean, cups),  a jumbo-size container of all-natural disinfecting wipes, a compromise over bringing soap
• a heavy sleeper, particularly on school days: Emily’s alarm clock
• a collector: three twist ties, a rock, a stick, a new Jefferson nickel and three state quarters (Idaho, Kentucky, and Massachusetts to be exact)
• thoughtful and maternal: a bottle of water for the baby
• a conspiratorial patriot: a spy pen
  

  Emily's necessities

Emily revealed:

• a little girl: my doll
• a reader with no grasp on how long she’ll be away: one little book
• obedient: toothpaste, toothbrush
• always concerned about keeping in touch with her parents: pencil (Mommy, that was an accident. I didn’t put that in there!)
• proper, although a bit dramatic and embarrassed: one pair of *panties* (Mommy, don’t show anybody!)
• not a lemming with halitosis: NO tic tacs

Elijah revealed:

• a lemming with halitosis…or a little boy with a sweet tooth: tic tacs
• inclined to tumble, and rather fond of Dora: Dora bandaids
• fond of gadgets: his new battery-operated Diego toothbrush
• just like his Daddy, the “big guy”: his “little guy” hat on his head
• smart (or desperate to get something on his feet before the train left): good hiking boots on his feet
• a planner: a headlamp to click on his hat (in case a light bulb wasn’t working where the train was going)
• a boy: one Lego guy and one Green Bay Packer jersey

Little Guy's head lamp

I find it revealing that none of my children thought to pack their math books, and that, before my reminders, there was a grand total of one pair of underpants and zero toothbrushes.

What would I have packed? I probably would have toted my small leatherbound Bible (lightweight), our emergency supplies including first aid, food, water, a weapon, my camera and laptop (are we ever spoiled!), jackets, blankets, and a lot of diapers!  Oh, also clean undies and a toothbrush.  A-hem.

What would you have packed?  Let us know in the comments below!

This is just one family’s exercise in bringing history to life, inspired by Story of the World’s activity book. The realities were much different. For one, the evacuees did not get to spend a couple hours in a motor home (our version of a train) watching a movie. There was no guarantee the children, especially that many children, would have been able to remain together. Also, because my children are as young as they are, I would have most likely been evacuated with the two youngest at least. Read an excellent child-friendly study about what the evacuation was really like, and praise God for the time you have with your children and the relative peace America enjoys.

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