SOUTH DEVON, ENGLAND

"Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you find; knock, and it will be open to you."

— Matthew 7:7

While driving to the first monastery, I was enthralled by the mustard-covered fields and rich green pastures that fill the fertile valleys of South Devon. There, the vistas glow with reflections of bright morning sunlight. Large, traditional farms with gray, timeworn, earth-walled, and timber-framed buildings stand surrounded by stone fences. Interspersed among them are newer farms made from quarried stone and brick, roofed with tile or slate. It was charming to see all the unusual properties spread out across the green land.

Road signs indicated that I was coming to a village near the monastery. Before I arrived in England, I had imagined what a traditional English village would look like, with its narrow cobblestone streets and the assortment of pubs, shops, and simple parish churches. In real life, however, the village was much more than I had imagined.

Crowded together were rows of shops looking like books on a library shelf, and the fairytale cottages outside the village came in all colors and shapes. I felt that an artist had taken a brush and painted the romantic scene of Victorian splendor before me. I couldn't help but think how a photograph of this scene would make a fun jigsaw puzzle.

Approaching Buckfast Abbey was stirring. The church bells rang loudly and clearly, calling the many people who could hear them from miles away to come to church. The sound of the bells seemed in a way to be giving me some kind of formal welcome. It was magnificent to see the tall sandstone-colored sanctuary's tower with its huge clock at the top like a lighthouse beacon showing me the way to the monastery.

I turned off from the main street and onto the monastery road, which led to the buildings and split off in different directions for the various activities that take place there. A small wooden sign painted in green indicated that I should turn right to find the guesthouse parking lot. After parking, I let out a sigh of relief that I had finally arrived.

I walked over a little arched footbridge that covered a small stream next to the guesthouse building. The babbling sound of water was soothing to my fragile nerves after the long drive. I walked up to the large glass double doors and rang the doorbell, watching the sunlight casting a multicolored light into the entry hall through the glass while I waited. After a few minutes, a brown-robed monk opened the door to greet me with a cheerful "good morning" in his traditional British accent. He was petite and thin in stature, with big green eyes that accented his sand-colored hair.

The monk introduced himself as Brother Frances, and he let me know that he was expecting me and was very pleased to see me. He explained that he was the guestmaster, and as such he was assigned to be in charge of the guesthouse. He said he was here to assure that I was comfortable and at ease with my surroundings.

A woman approached us to say hello, and he introduced her as the housekeeper, Jane. Brother Frances told me that she had been with them at the monastery for twenty years. "She knows how to run an efficient and tidy household!" he exclaimed.

Jane smiled and said to me, "If there is anything you need in regard to your stay, please don't hesitant to ask me."

Brother Frances then gave me a tour of the guesthouse, moving quickly and easily as we went through it. The downstairs consisted of a prayer room and a sitting room. Upstairs were the kitchen, dining room, and bedrooms. The rooms, although small, were filled with traditional Victorian furniture.

Brother Frances paused along the way in the dining room to explain the times for meals, and in the prayer room he handed me a pamphlet that explained the times and types of monastic services offered at the abbey. He mentioned that the monks celebrate the Divine Office six times a day, including the daily mass, and that I was invited to attend all services.

While we were upstairs, he showed me the large kitchen and dining area, explaining the self-help breakfast that consisted of cereal, fruit, and freshly baked bread for toast, eggs, juice, coffee, and tea.

He then led me down the hall to my bedroom, which was attractively decorated with floral wallpaper. The twin bed had a crème-colored quilt over a bedspread patterned with dainty purple flowers. A painted white desk and chair stood in the corner. On top of the desk bloomed a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers in a glass vase.

I was delighted to notice a skylight, which brought warm sunlight into the room. It was so lit up that I thought for a moment bright lights were on.

"It's a cheerful room," Brother Frances commented with a smile. He let me know that this completed the tour and then excused himself to return to some other work. With a quick "Cheerio," he turned and left.

* * *

The next morning I was ready for a good, strong cup of tea. Jane, the housekeeper, whom I found out also helps with breakfast, greeted me. She was the perfect example of an English housekeeper, carrying herself with pride and sophistication. That morning she was smartly dressed in a crisp white blouse and pressed black slacks. Her polished black flats completed the outfit. Her big, brown doll eyes accented her delicate features and soft creamy complexion. A golden hair clip held her thick, shiny, reddish-brown hair tied in the back with a twist.

The first thing Jane offered was tea, and there is nothing more enjoyable for me than watching how the English brew their tea. She added tea leaves to the hot teapot and filled it with boiling water, allowing the tea too steep for a few minutes while she warmed the cup with hot water. These rituals completed, she then poured me a nice warm cup of Earl Grey.

The aroma and taste of that first cup of English tea was warming and soothing to my entire being. Available for the tea were honey, sugar, milk, and lemon. Jane had also made fresh biscuits and crumpets for all of us to enjoy. She took a particularly genuine interest in ensuring the comfort of her guests.

The abbot joined us for breakfast that morning, which he said was one of his favorite times to visit with the guests. Jane was busy pouring juice and setting up when a guest put toast into the toaster without realizing that it didn't quite fit. The toast burned, and the smoke pouring from the toaster set off the fire alarm. Jane...