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A couple of weeks ago I happened across an old show on YouTube that ran some twenty years ago on British television. It was called 1940s House and is one of those shows where they take a modern family and essentially "transport" them back in time to see how well they fare. In this particular instance, the family was dropped into a pre-WWII home close to London for seven weeks and would experience war-torn England throughout the duration, at ultra-high speed.
I found the show fascinating, mostly because I now live in a little cottage built in 1942, and I happen to have lots of experience watching WWII documentaries thanks to my husband's undying respect and admiration for those brave souls who fought and won that war on not just one, but two fronts simultaneously.
The house chosen for the program was one that actually suffered damage at its rear from the German bombings, and a Bible was found under the stairs with a note detailing the death of the original owner's husband who suffered a heart attack as he labored to put out the flames. The house underwent a total transformation, removing any vestiges of modern life and replacing them with true period pieces. I couldn't help being riveted to the screen over the shots of 40s furniture and appliances, or lack thereof. The family underwent makeovers from head to toe as well, complete with period hairstyles and dress.
The show began in pre-war years, allowing the family to experience a life much more abundant than the following weeks of their trial would yield. Everyone started out smiling, happy to be a part of this grand experiment, but the smiles soon faded as the stark reality of living in war-torn London and its surrounding countryside would attest.
Before long ration books were introduced as were a plethora of "mock" meat and egg recipes. Clothes were washed in the kitchen sink with the aid of a washboard and soap, when they could get it. Garments were mended with whatever means possible, shortening sleeves, using pockets to patch holes. Lawns were dug up to be replaced with garden vegetables and fruit trees as a means for supplying fresh produce for the family. Windows were blackened out at night to avoid detection by planes flying overhead,and bomb shelters were dug into the ground five feet deep. It was a rude awakening for this modern-day family, and the going was tough, really tough.
At first the family struggled to adapt. They were tired, weary, and ready to go home, but they didn't give up. Modern-day neighbors showed up to help out in the building of the shelter and there were others, older individuals who had experienced this in real life, who offerd tips and suggestions on the best ways to stretch a meal or to mend clothing.
I have to say, watching that show made me a whole lot more grateful for the things I have. The things I take for granted. I have a working fridge, not just a larder. I can go to the grocery store and fill my basket with whatever my heart desires, and though we are experiencing some supply shortages of late, we don't have to do without any viable options. I have soap. Dish soap. Laundry soap. Bath soap. Shampoo. A multitude of choices with which to clean. The 1940s house had... soap. One bar... for EVERYTHING, and I can bathe in fresh water each day, as opposed to the five inches allowed per family, per week!
Food was so limited during the war that it was actually against the law to feed "Fido" anything fit for human consumption. My goodness, we even have pets today who are overweight! The whole thing was astonishing... and humbling... and even convicting. The family in the show pulled together brilliantly, and by the end of the series had garnered a true appreciation and respect for the generation who sacrificed so much at home and those who sacrificed even more abroad.
For me it gave pause. Pause to realistically evaluate how blessed, truly blessed my life is. Each age, each era has its own challenges and struggles, but I have personally seen so little of it in my lifetime. Yes, COVID. But... yes, Polio; and yes,Smallpox; and yes, Black Plague, etc. etc. In no way am I diminishing the harshness and tragedy of those who have lost loved ones to this horrible virus or to the heartbreaking violence that seems to be erupting all around us. I am simply saying that I choose to be grateful for what I have. I thought I was thankful before, covering all the bases when I say my prayers, but this show has given me a tiny peek into a different reality. A reality I hope we never have to revisit, but one we can never be sure won't come.
In the meantime, I will try my best each day to tune my heart to the overflowing cup. I will drink liberally of the Lord's goodness and grace... and I'll remind myself that if or when deeper trials come, I will not despair or give up hope. I am obliged to keep gratitude at the forefront... whatever happens, for even the half-empty glass is also always half-full.
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