Majuba House

BY JOYCE BROGDON

The real life story of a young girl growing up in England during WWII.

The unique house where love abounded symbolizes life as it should be. It exemplifies dignity, grace and strength in the midst of turmoil; qualities that endure in an ever changing world. It marks in an earthly way how God's heavenly mantle of security covers us, guides us and protects us long before our spirits are awakened to the realization of His protective love and salvation.

EXCERPTS:

Read these excerpts from the enchanting true story of war-time Majuba House.

...A HILLTOP VILLAGE

Wenhaston is a hilltop village that was first settled during the Bronze Age. It has been torn apart many times by war, ravaged and restructured time and time again by the Romans, Saxons, Normans and lesser known hordes and scalawags who had strewn bits and pieces for countless generations of school children to muddle over and discover anew. Through the ages, much memorabilia had been unearthed in the surrounding countryside, and eager historians and curiosity seekers had thoroughly scrutinized each new find. Headmasters and school teachers, especially those in my era, continued to speculate about treasures that might remain buried in the wind-blown mile that stretched between Wenhaston’s North and South hills.

Through all the years and all the changes, the church had stood stoutly, its stone walls renovated to suit each new conqueror. Its windows were altered and steeple changed to reflect the architecture of its current tenants and landlords. But through it all, the old church has stood, in one form or another, as a reminder of man’s dependence for spiritual consistency on an outward form, a symbol of worship beyond his humanity and beyond his comprehension.

...THE BELLS OF ST. PETER’S

St. Peter’s Parish Church was the undisputed centre of spiritual activity in the village of Wenhaston. It was the heart and soul of village life. No matter what phase of life one was in or what social standing, whether rich, poor, or somewhere in between, the villagers turned to the church as their catalyst for many of life’s solutions and endorsements. In short, the village moved in time with the sound of the church bells.

It was the place where everyone gathered for joyful occasions such as weddings, christenings and confirmation rites, when the bells rang joyfully and the sound of them reverberated gladly throughout the village. We didn’t need a newspaper to tell us what events were taking place. The church bells told the story and set the mood for the occasion.

The church was the first place a newborn was taken, to be baptized. It was also the last place the young soldiers going off to war visited before journeying to the battlefields. It was the place they came home to, to give thanks for their safe return. It was the place of constant remembrance for those who were killed in service to their country. It was a place where grief and loss were not strangers, and the place of consolation for those who needed it.       

It was, without a doubt, a big part of daily village life. Certain of the villagers, and especially the older ladies, attended both morning and evening services at the church. We often saw them coming out of the church gate in the mornings as we were going to school, their prayer books clutched in their hands.

[From Majuba House, Chapter 5]