My father, Paul Hillier, grew up in Hither Green, London, in this house which I had the honour of visiting whilst in London. It was his home until the age of 12 before migrating to Sydney, Australia with his parents as £10 Poms. Standing there, I found myself sensitively reflecting on the vivid memories he must have carried, having lived through the harrowing days of the London bombings during World War II. The house, like a silent witness, holds the echoes of those times, etched not only in its walls but in his mind, as he often shares with me the stories of how war impacted his daily life.
While many children were sent away to safer, unknown locations as part of the evacuation efforts, my father remained here. His parents made the brave choice to keep him at home, despite the constant danger that came with every air raid siren, every shaking wall, and the distant but ominous explosions. For them, keeping the family together was worth the risk. This house was not just shelter from the war, but also the place where my father learned about courage, resilience, and the strength of family bonds.
Interestingly, there are posters currently displayed at the Hither Green railway station, speaking of the local impact during World War II.
My dad specifically recalls these events, having seen them with his own eyes. He has often spoken with me about the day Sandhurst Primary School was bombed, a tragedy that claimed the lives of 32 children and six staff members, and injured many. It could have been him—he stayed home from school that day. His parents had the choice of sending him to either Sandhurst Road Primary, the closest school to their home or Torridon Road Primary, slightly farther away. They chose Torridon Road, and because of that decision, my dad, now almost 90 years old, is still with us today. This, however, as incredible as it is to stand in front of, is just a house, no longer a home. People make a home, and those connections to this physical place have long since faded. Yet, threads remain. As I stand here, I reflect on how my father’s childhood, though surrounded by chaos, was shaped by these very walls and the decisions his parents made. Keeping him close gave him stability in an unstable world, and this house played a central role in shaping not only his character but also the stories he has passed down to me.
I am incredibly grateful to my Dad (and my Mum too), but in this case, to my Dad and the values he has chosen to instill in me, despite the many challenges he has faced throughout life. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. He has always encouraged and coached me to live with an eternal, long-term perspective, to see the good in people despite their circumstances, and to live without holding a grudge or harboring an unforgiving spirit.
Just like when I stood on the streets of Lossiemouth, outside my grandfather’s home, where connections lingered, this house holds fragments of the past. But it is the people, the bonds, the purpose, and the legacy that bring true meaning to our lives.
In reflecting on my father’s life and the stories he’s shared with me, I’m reminded of the words from the bible, Deuteronomy 6:6-7: “These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” His life, marked by resilience, courage, and love, has set a powerful example for me. He has shown me the value of living with integrity, seeing the good in others, and choosing forgiveness over bitterness.
But if I’m honest, I haven’t always got it right. There have been moments when I’ve not lived the very principles he taught me, a journey of constant learning through missteps. Yet, as Dad would say, he hasn’t always got it right either. Life is messy, and both of us have faced challenges that has tested our resolve. What matters is not perfection but a willingness to grow—a commitment to pursue the example of Christ and embracing the grace that allows us to rise again after we fall.
His example continues to guide me, even when I stumble. Now, as I strive to pass these same values on to my own children, I realise that it’s not about being flawless. It’s about the journey of faith and the determination to live out the lessons handed down to us. The true legacy lies not in always getting it right but in the effort to love, to forgive, and to carry forward the stories and values that have shaped us.
In honoring my Dad’s legacy, I embrace the notion that it’s okay to struggle and learn. It’s about fostering a spirit of growth and reflection, being willing to adapt and seek a deeper understanding of what it means to live out Christ’s teachings in our daily lives. It is in this journey—both his and mine—that the greatest lessons are often found, allowing us to grow in character.