Keeping Hope Alive

On this, the 30th anniversary of Charles' and Di's wedding, I'm going to write about St. Paul's cathedral. My family and I were in London last week, and while there, had a tour of St. Paul's.  I knew of St. Paul's because it was the site of Princess Diana's marriage to Prince Charles on July 29, 1981.  I will always remember the photo of her on the front steps, with the train of her dress cascading down the stairs.   I remember watching her fairy-tale wedding on TV.  Too bad the fairy-tale ended...

It was exciting for me to walk those same stairs, be in that same church.  Here's a picture of some of my family sitting on the steps just to the right of where Diana walked--where the London police are standing in the photo.

Yet even with St. Paul's being the place of Diana's wedding, the piece of history that touched me the most happened forty years earlier.

As we approached St. Paul's, our London guide stopped and had us admire the dome.  It turns out the dome was a beacon of hope for Londoners during World War II. 

London endured "the Blitz", a period of eight months when Hitler bombed the city with the intent of demoralizing its citizenry.  It all started on September 7, 1940, at 4:00 PM.  Unable to invade England, Hitler sent 348 German bombers escorted by 617 fighters to bomb London for two hours.  Then, guided by the fires, another wave flew over and added more destruction.

For 57 consecutive days London was bombed.  The parents of our guide (children at the time) were sent to the country, to safety.

Some of the bombs were explosive, but others were phosphorus bombs that caused fires.  Hundreds of volunteers manned the roof of St. Paul's with the sole job of throwing sand or dirt on those phosphorus bombs when they landed, snuffing them out.  Water would have allowed the phosphorus to spread and burn more.  Each morning, as the citizens of London came out of their hiding places, they looked for the dome of St. Paul's.  If it was standing, they were standing.  England was still standing.  Churchill made saving St. Paul a priority for the morale of England.

The worst day of bombing came on December 29, 1940.  Dozens of fires were put out and a bomb that lodged in the dome fell away, damaging the Stone Gallery, but leaving the dome intact.  Here's a famous photo taken by Herbert Mason, showing St. Paul's rising above the smoke.


I was inspired by the spirit of the Londoners who helped each other get through this awful time.  Over 20,000 died during the raids and 1.5 million homes were damaged or destroyed.  Because of their tenacity and the courage of the British armed services, Hitler's plan was curbed.  He stopped the bombing in May of 1941 and turned his attention to the Russian front.

American Memorial Chapel
and the Roll of Honour


I was also moved by the American Memorial Chapel in the apse of the cathedral. It honors American servicemen and women who died in World War II. It was paid for by donations from British people.  There's a Roll of Honour that contains the names of more than 28,000 Americans who gave their lives in the defense of the United Kingdom in WWII.  Inside its glass case are a pair of gloves.  Each day a page is carefully turned so that every name is seen by the public.  It takes over 14 months to go through the book--and then they start over from page one.  I found this very touching, especially since my father served in the South Pacific in the Air Force for 2.5 years during the war... He's 91 now, and the sacrifice of that generation humbles me.

The Duke of Wellington is buried in St. Paul's, as is Admiral Nelson, and the architect of the church (and many London churches), Sir Christopher Wren. So it's a place of internment, of weddings, of memorials, and honor.  As a newspaper said a few days after the horrible December 29 bombing:  St. Paul's "symbolises the steadiness of London’s stand against the enemy: the firmness of Right against Wrong.”

Long may it stand.//Nancy

How Do I Love Thee?

In this month devoted to romantic love, I want to share a love story that was as unlikely as it was destined…



Elizabeth Barrett



Elizabeth Barrett was the oldest child in a family of twelve children. Her father had sugar plantations in Jamaica (which used slave labor) but chose to live in England. He built a whimsical house for his family in Herefordshire and called it Hope End. It was very isolated, and in retrospect, it seems like he enjoyed being the end-all to his family, and keeping them from mingling too much in society. The family was happy—if not eccentric. The children were schooled at home and even the girls were encouraged in their studies—rare in the 1820’s. Elizabeth (known as “Ba” to her family) was delicate and struggled with her health, but she was gifted in regard to poetry. All was well until her mother and brother died.

Those tragedies changed everything, and the family moved to Wimpole Street in London, where the tone of their lives became constricted and even oppressive. Their father proclaimed that none of his children could marry.

For the most part, the children abided by his wishes, and remained loyal, though not always complacent. The power he had over them was unhealthy and rather frightening.

Robert Browning



In London, Ba took up residence in the top floor of the house amid her books, her pen, and her beloved spaniel, Flush. She had literary success, getting many of her epic poems published, and had a close group of writer friends who came to call, sharing their work, their ambition, and their inspiration. Virtually an invalid, Ba contented herself with this odd life, hidden away from the world beyond her family.

That is, until she received a letter from a younger author, Robert Browning: “I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett...” So began a correspondence that led to much more. Much, much more. At the mature age of 38, Elizabeth Barrett, a woman who never imagined romance, found herself in love with a man who adored her. Her love for Robert flowed from her pen:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints—I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

The poem, whose first lines are still known today--150 years after they were penned--was not written for publication, but simply as an emotional release. That fact alone, gives the words special meaning.

And yet, because of this love, because of her father’s oppression, Elizabeth's love of Robert had to remain a secret. And yet, because of the strength of their love, Elizabeth gained the courage she needed to break free.

But the cost was great...

Isn’t that the way of all great love? To love is to sacrifice, is to choose we instead of me. To love is to risk everything, for there are no guarantees. Loving is hard. It’s a decision. It’s surrender. But as the Bible says, “Three things will last forever--faith, hope, and love--and the greatest of these is love.” (I Corinthians 13: 13.) What God has joined together, let no man put asunder . . .

If you’d like to read a novel about Elizabeth’s life and love, read my biographical novel, How Do I Love Thee?   Their love story is ever so poignant, even moreso because it was real.//Nancy Moser