2023/31. A PIECE OF HEAVEN IN DEVON

Hillsides of Devon
from the window of our car this afternoon.
.

My sister, Ann Marie, and her husband Michael are giving a year of their lives to their Lord… full time. They’ve done this before. Eighteen months in the London Mission, and now a year in the London Temple Mission. Not that every year of their lives hasn’t been devoted to the service of their Lord and His children. When people submit themselves to the patterns and schedules of an organization or entity, it seems to me they would need to have a significant amount of trust and faith because they sure give up a lot. AM and Mike would be the first, however, to jump up and announce that they are getting more than they are giving up. It kind of blows me away. 

Ann Marie and Mike left their super comfy, absolutely lovely, supremely appointed house in Farmington, with a nice comfy king-sized bed and a massive walk-in shower and a kitchen that has all the goods a cooker gal like my sister could wish for. They left this, and family, and friends, and familiarity because in the core of them there is a belief that they are doing good. Even when their bodies are not cooperating, they are doing good. And when they are not well, they are still doing good. They left this for a small flat with furniture that matches every other flat in the building, and framed prints on the wall that refuse to be moved. A place with a tiny kitchen, a mini fridge, an interesting bathroom (the Brits sure need a tutorial from the Americans when it comes to bathrooms) and easy chairs that hit you in the wrong place on your back. Interestingly, AM and Mike think their place is divine.

This morning as we walked down the hallway of their humble little missionary housing complex, a rather sterile, in a warm sort of way, apartment style building, I looked up. There at the end of the long hallway was a portrait of The Man! The host of the manor. The king of the realm.

I watched my sister, with a brace on her foot, and another on her knee, and another on her wrist, hobble toward that portrait at the end of the hall. I thought it so symbolic.

The closer we got, the more clear the image became, until finally they met face to face, my sister and her king. Both of them calm and confidant, as if to say Good Morning!

For the next five hours we wove our way through the brilliant, quilted countryside of southern England to the grace-filled home of the saintly David and Lyn Irwin. A lovely thatch roofed home tucked into lush well-kept gardens on the hillsides of Devon. Oh goodness, if charm had an address, it would be theirs. 

Hedgerows on the way to their house.
(That's one lane. You have to
 back up and find a spot wide enough
 for another car to come through.)

view from their upstairs bathroom.
Thatched roofs and rolling hillsides.

View from the Irwin's sitting room.

The Irwins and Mullens seem to be cut from the same cloth. I kind of wonder how the soles of their shoes actually touch the earth.

The Irwin’s were mission presidents to Ann Marie and Mike’s son, Joseph, in the Prague LDS Mission. That was the impetus for their abiding friendship. The Irwins came home from that three years of service and were called up to Lingfield to serve as part of the London Temple presidency. Having given their three years, as they were just moving their goods back to their Devonshire home, they got a call to come back and serve an extra year with the new president. Two years later they were called to go back again and serve as London Temple president for three more years. They purchased their home in Devon twelve years ago. They have lived in it two of those twelve years. And trust me, there has been plenty in their private lives that make others think they should curse the Lord. Instead, they hobble down that long hall of life and face their Lord straight on, eye to eye, full of faith and trust. It’s really quite remarkable. Their faces radiate with a kind of peace that cannot be contrived by anything earthly. You can't fake that kind of peace and maintain it.

We have seen much that has been noteworthy in the last few days. We’ve crossed a massive ocean, seen ancient castles, and magnificent cathedrals, palaces of kings and queens. We’ve walked the halls of museums, eaten fine culinary fare in one of the world’s most renowned cities. We’ve watched actors and musicians light up the stage on the West End. And yes, we have bathed in the holy light of the temple. But the most divine spot we have been this week is at the table in a cottage in Devon, tucked into a hillside, with people who know their Lord intimately and reverently. Lyn had prepared a wonderful meal for us. We bowed our heads to pray, but I could not help but peek up at the souls surrounding me at that table; the man I love and respect more than any other, whose name I bear. The sister who has taught me her whole life how to walk humbly before the Lord. Her gracious and grace-filled husband. And David and Lyn Irwin, whose lives stand as a testament that we really are spirits having a human experience. This one delicious, soul filling meal at their table was worth the whole trip.