Chapter
1
By Michael J Quinlan 16 years ago
The
year was 1962, the Cuban missile crisis was the pulse of the day, and
Vietnam was soon to become a household topic of debate. Film Director
David lean had just released Lawrence of Arabia, computer wiz Steve
Russell, his M.I.T team had just invented the first computer game
called Space War, and yes, believe it or not the Internet had just
been born although it was called the modem era back then.
In
northern Ireland the IRA were busy trying to regain Irelands freedom
by violent means and in Glasgow Scotland the fans of two famous
soccer teams Glasgow Rangers (prostant) Glasgow Celtic (Catholic)
Brought football violence to the headlines and Sunday afternoon
television.
On
March 30th
in a Glasgow hospital I was born, 7lbs 3oz, s blonde hair, blue eyes
the first son of Michael and Iris Quinlan recent immigrants from
Ireland. They named me Michael Jnr.The next year my brother Niall,
followed by Deirdre and before moi, Niamh, Siobhan and Dara.
Dad
owned a couple of car dealerships in downtown Glasgow and we lived in
a wealthy suburb of Glasgow in a large sandstone house with house
keeper, Gardner and a huge yard and gardens to play in .The house was
surrounded by a large black wrought iron fence complete with pillars
and stately looking gates that opened to a long driveway.
We
lived in that house until 1968 when the oil crisis in the Middle East
started the world economy on a downward slope. Dad was surviving
until an unexpected knock on the door brought everything to an end.
Basicly when he had purchased the business the former owner neglected
to inform Dad about his silent partner in America and now said
partner was also in financial trouble and wanted his money back.
The
last memory I have of that home was the moving truck parked in the
driveway and our housekeeper waving good bye to us with a tear
stained face.
We
were moving back to Ireland a place I knew nothing about and at the
tender age of five going on six it all sounded like a big adventure
to me.
Later
that day we boarded a large ship and set out across the Irish Sea to
Ireland. Mom bought us all a good lunch which I deposited overboard
(I had just discovered seasickness) actually I think we all, did it
was a rough crossing.
My
first view of Ireland came later that afternoon as the ship sailed
into Dublin harbor (the Irish capitol). My mother gathered us
together and led us below the main deck to wait in front of a large
steel door that suddenly swung open, a cold blast of Irish Sea air
engulfed us, and we were ushered down a long gangway into the
welcoming arms of my dad’s brother Uncle Con.
Con
piled us all in to his car and drove us to the “Spa Hotel” in a
place called Lucan just outside of Dublin. My Dad was now the manager
of this fine old establishment.
We
lived there for a short period until dad found us a home in a
development called Hill house estates. I liked it, as there was a
large green about the size of a football field right out side the
front door and surrounding the green were a lot of homes and future
friends and some bad apples.
From
that year on my Dad began to distance himself from us, he became
tired and moody a lot and when he was home we always had to be
extremely quiet as Dad was sleeping or he had a headache.
From
my perspective, I would say that’s when my depression began.
I
mean I had no inkling that this was occurring as I was only six, all
I knew was that things had changed and not for the better.
My
mother became extremely irritable and sad; she had six children to
rise by herself with no support from my father.
That
first Irish Christmas Dad drank all our Christmas money, Mom had to
ask our relatives for help, and they sure did.
Within
that first year my Dad lost his job due to his drinking and we moved
again this time to the east of Ireland to a place called Roscommon
(oh before that was a hotel in a town called leitrum) where he
managed another Hotel.
That
position lasted about another year also, and then it was of to Sligo
north of Roscommon where, yes, he managed another Hotel .We lived in
Sligo in a trailer for six months and then moved to Rosses point on
the coast, 5 miles from Sligo.
There
we moved in to a white washed Cottage across the street from my Dads
drinking hole and the Ocean. Up the street to the west of our home
sitting on the edge of a Cliff was the House where James Joyce the
Writer was born. I had no idea who he really was - but tourists came
to visit Joyce’s former home like Muslims go to Mecca.
Shortly
after that we moved about a mile north to a ranch style house and
again true to his unfortunate drinking predicament Dad was again
unsalaried and we moved south to the province 0f Munster (Ireland is
divided up into 4 provinces Ulster in the north, Munster south,
Leinster to the east and connacht in the west) to a village called
Aherla in county Cork (Cork is the capitol of munster) where we
rented an old farm house.
This
time Dad worked as a sales manager for a commercial refrigeration
company.
We
lived in the farm home about 16 months and it was there that I wished
we had a Piped Piper in the trunk as the local farmers used the farm
yard during sugar beet harvest and I believe every rat and his mother
in Munster frequented our charming abode and became stoned on sugar
and proceeded to chew anything that barred there way. Thankfully some
Ferrell cats came on stage, decided to mate like rabbits and feast on
the rodent masses .The carnage lasted through that summer and in the
end the rats like the crusaders raised the white flag made a formal
surrender and vacated Jeruslem.That left Puss in boots his second in
command Top cat and an ever increasing horde of Orcs.Enter the Canine
relief force.
Waldo
an old English sheep dog and Frisky a beautiful Collie (who we
gathered were homeless) arrived 3 days after the Jerusalem rout and
entered the farm yard theater of operation and after a well fought
fray by the cats, sent the felines packing and received a warm
welcome into our hearts.
The
rest of that summer was interesting to say the least, the well ran
dry and we had to carry pails of water from a local spring, and
winter brought dampness to the house and black ugly walls and then we
moved to Cork City about 14 miles away to the east.
There
Dad still had the same job and we lived in a duplex on Silverhights
drive.
We
lived in that house about 3 years and during that time I actually got
to go to the same school and liked it .At the end of that period we
moved again to a place called Bishops town about 3mls away I still
went to the same school and compared to my other schools I was not to
shabby.
Then
my Dad got (in my mind) the not so bright idea to move my brother and
I to the Christian brothers school around the corner -from our house
.I hated it, I had loved my former school, friends and teachers, but
this place was cold and unfriendly- in my spirit I felt crushed and
defeated, I had no more hope left, that is to finish school, I mean I
had lived in 14 different places and attended 10 schools.
So
I quit, my Dad could not talk me out of it; at that time he had
opened a Hotel in cork city called the Victoria and I went to work
for him.
Over
the next 6 odd years I trained in the Hotel world, my goal was to
become a Hotel manager and eventually open my own Hotel. To be honest
I was just beating my head against a door that I really did not want
to go through but I kept on as I thought it was what I should be
doing. Now when I think about it I was really just trying to please
my Dad and earn his love.
Upon
leaving the Hotel arena my Dad set me up in business on my own (not
really he just wanted another avenue of revenue) If he had spent any
time with me at all he would have seen that it was a waste of time
and finances. I went out selling catering equipment and supplies; in
about a 14-month period I ran up a $2000 overdraft and put a lot of
miles on a new van and dents. I think I sold a toaster oven, no
kidding .I had zero confidence in my self- but boy I sure dressed
well .Dad was voted the best dressed man in cork city and so his son
wore good suits, silk ties and hankies located stage left in the
Brest pocket. I should have been in a department store window; at
least I could have sold gentlemen’s attire.
At
that time, Dad had left the hotel bizz and was now selling modular
shelving units for grocery stores and boutiques.
So,
as I was making a name for myself and had my picture on the cover of
“FORTUNE 500” I quit and joined him as a shop fitter and
apprentice refrigeration engineer to his partner Mick Gough.
Mick,
I liked as he reminded me of Oscar from the “ODD COUPLE” and in
that county they were known as Oscar and Felix. Mick was a” Face
only a mother could love” gruff burly Irish man and was married to
a very kind and beautiful women named Eileen. Mick sold and installed
cold rooms in pubs and my dad sold into the grocery trade. I choose
to work with Mick as much as possible, one because we both liked each
other and the other was that he loved his Guinness and sold in pubs.
Sometimes we would be gone 3 days at a time, at night we would sit at
the bar counter, tell, and hear good stories.
One
story comes to mind, Mick had just completed building a cold room and
had just started the compressor which creates the cold air .The
compressor was located about 40 ft from the cold room and the copper
pipes that ran from the compressor to the cold room were now sealed
beneath a newly poured concrete floor. We began the normal tests when
all of a sudden we began to smell gas, not a good sign as cold rooms
need gas to create the cold air (just like your car air conditioner).
Mick used a gas sensor to check for leaks and after process of
elimination Mick decided to rent a Jackhammer and check the copper
pipes under the concrete floor.
After
about 20 mins of breaking the concrete floor Mick stopped put the
Jackhammer down and began to laugh uncontrollably, He sputtered out
between laughs that it was not compressor gas he smelled but his own
farts…
Guinness tastes
great but the buy product smells a lot like refrigeration gas.
I was very blessed
to have known and had the pleasure of working with Mick Gough,
Mick
passed away about 7 years ago He will be sorely missed by all who
knew him.
During
the years, that I was a wealthy Irish entrepreneur and worked for my
Dad and the mighty Mick Gough I started racing motorcycles in
motocross. I joined the local club and raced on and off for about 4
years. The club had its own land and a very old manor for a clubhouse
and of course, it had its own bar where the members could wet their
palates after hours and as long as the visiting racers etc signed the
member’s book, we could drink all night. I loved that club, I
remember one race day when the local Radio personality failed to show
up to perform the duty of sports commentator, I volunteered to take
his place as my bike was running poorly .Hey, I had not done it
before and what did I have to lose (all my friends). So I climbed
into the 40ft lift a loft and started and never looked back .I took
to it like an Irishman to drinking, I was a natural, the words flowed
out like oil from a newly tapped well in Texas and over the next 4
years my voice rang out over all the race tracks in southern Ireland.
During those years I felt alive and in control of my life I became
the motorcycle division chairman (there was also a car rally club,
kart racing club, vintage car and motorcycle section and the
motorcycle road racing which was part of the motocross section) I
even took over the bar and catering for a while and created a more
open and social atmosphere in the club .I honestly believe I was
instrumental in closing the rifts between many of the divisions in
the club, bikes verses cars etc. encouraged everyone to help each
other in running each others events. I have never really cared for
division among people groups and have always looked for common ground
and once those walls come down life gets more enriching and false
fears are shown for what they really are “False Evidence Appearing
Real”. After all in Gods eyes all men are created equal, but in
mans eyes some are more equal than others, heaven forbid we should
talk to each other and find out the truth; boy the truth would only
set us free the very thing we all desire.
Oh
another thought from about age ten till sixteen I was a member of the
Irish Boy Scouts and in many ways it made up for my not so happy home
life .I became a patrol leader and senior patrol leader (that’s in
charge of all four patrols) got all my merit badges and at sixteen
became a venture scout and eventually an assistant scout leader. One
of my not so fond memories (but I can laugh at it now) was summer
camp in Wales, oh the 2 weeks were great, I was just a young scout
then and one afternoon all the patrols were assigned special
construction projects, ours was to build a dam on the nearby stream
in order to create a swimming hole
.
During the building I decided to take a break and amble of to see
what all the others were building. At the crest of a hill to the east
of the camp members 0f the third cork troop (we were the 12th)
were erecting a look out tower, and it was near completion .So I
asked Kevin, their patrol leader who was working on the top level, if
I could climb up and look around. Sure Mick, come on up. So up I
climbed, the view was great I could see the camp below me to the
west, the river and dam to the south, the welsh mountains behind to
the north and then I noticed a freshly dug rectangular hole about a
hundred yards south west of the tower. Kevin I asked what’s that
for? Oh, he replied, that’s for the campfire play tonight we are
putting on Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. You see Mick at the
bottom of that hole we placed a spring board and covered it lightly
with dirt so that when the person playing Lazarus jumps down into the
hole (on que from behind a curtain,) he will automatically spring
back up and bobs your uncle Larry’s back from the dead. Hey, can I
try it out, sure Mick be my guest, enjoy the flight. About 2 minutes
later I was standing at the runways edge staring at the bottom of
said hole, it looked like they had dug it deep enough and the board
was well covered. To the right of the hole was a sign in scout
language that I assumed meant danger (I didn’t know all my signs
yet)? Go on Mick jump in, yelled Kevin and all his patrol, that by
this time were all leaning on the wooden rail at the top of the tower
and cheering me on. So I leaped into the air and down into the hole
and straight through the dirt on the bottom, slipped, and landed flat
on my back in about 2 foot deep of human waste, I quickly leaped to
my feet and noticed I was wearing the mud pack from hell, it reeked,
I reeked .ten seconds later I was out of the hole, the laughter was
so loud I thought the tower would fall down. So, in my humility I did
the proper thing, I turned tail for camp, found their patrol tent and
tried out every members sleeping bag and then ran to the swimming
hole and jumped in at which the construction crew left for fresher
air pastures. I didn’t live that down for a long time and you can
imagine the nicknames, anyway I learned a lot of valuable life skills
in the scouts that have stayed with me to this day.
During
the years before and after the motorcycle racing I also worked in the
Hotel field my Dad had been a Hotel manager in his early days and
years later in Cork city he reopened a hotel called the Victoria .He
and two partners refurbished the old building which had been closed
for many years due to encomia recession that hit Ireland in the early
seventies. They restored it to its original 1920,s condition .The
dinning room was very similar to the one on the Titanic complete with
a large Victorian fire place, large crystal chandeliers and period
plaster moldings on the ceiling that matched the red carpet patterns
below. The tables were finished in brown linen and topped with beige
lace and silver plated cutlery and French crystal wine goblets, the
high backed plush chairs were upholstered in velvet burgundy. The
windows were ten feet tall, were dressed in burgundy curtains with
golden sash cords, and faced onto Patrick Street. The bar and lobby
were of similar design and throughout the Hotel hung various oil
paintings and Victorian prints.
Dad
had the Hotel for about 2 years and then ended the partnership due to
many heated disagreements with his partners. I left the hotel and
worked for various other hotels in the cork area and after that I
went into the sales field as I mentioned before and then back with my
Dad and Mick Gough.
About
4 years later I boarded a bus to go to London England to try and make
my own way in the world .I worked for a time as a courier driving a
van around London and southern England delivering parcels etc and
then I worked in a Pub in Twicknem as head bar man .I worked myself
to hard and did not know how to slow down as I was constantly trying
to please those whom I was employed by and so I burned out and
returned to Ireland feeling defeated, depressed and to the
unemployment line.
This
lasted about 9 months and during that time I went back to the
Catholic Church trying to find some peace in my depressed existence
.I even went to the local missionary church to join them as a lay
missionary but they wanted me to become a priest and from what I
could see they were not a merry bunch and I thanked them and left. As
I was walking home, I bumped into an old classmate who had entered
the priesthood about 5 previous, I asked him how it was going, and he
replied that he had recently quit the order and was very happy about
his decision. Great I replied I have just come from Friar Tuck and
his merry men and I wouldn’t join them either. To be honest I can’t
remember our conversation, I may have said something like that, but I
do remember that he was not happy with the priest hood and so he
quit. Anyway, it was like a confirmation that God did not want me to
enter by that doorway, so I went of to look behind door number 3.
About a week later
as I was walking home from the unemployment office I started talking
to God, I was not too sure if he existed at all and yet deep inside I
felt a strong desire that I was meant for something better than this
present predicament. I came to a cross walk outside a pub named
Flannerys that I used to frequent, stopped looked up to heaven and
said God if you are really there please show me as I don’t know
what to do or where to go from here and then I walked across the road
and proceeded up the long slow hill in front of me. As I neared the
top I thought I recognized a man I used to know coming out of a
corner store as I drew closer I called out his name ROY is that you?
He turned around looked at me and with a big smile said Hi Mick how’s
it going? At first I was not to sure it was him as the Roy I knew was
always drunk, stoned and no fun to be around. I knew Roy’s Dad
Harry Grey from my motorcycle racing days as his younger son was also
a rider and both were club members. Roy only showed up when the club
bar was open.
I
kept looking at Roy, it looked like him but he didn’t act like Roy,
this guy was too happy .He invited me inside the store (I had fitted
the place out about 2 years before) we talked like we were old
friends. Finally I stopped Roy and asked what has happened to you?
Why are you so happy? He replied with a big Smile ` I met Jesus Mick;
he’s real and living in my heart. My mouth fell open and I
immediately told him what I had asked God at the bottom of the hill.
I became like a little kid firing off questions and hanging on to
every answer Roy gave. I was excited and could feel that the growing
desire inside was about to be met.
As
the store became busy and we could no longer carry on our
conversation Roy invited me to his church that night and I eagerly
accepted his invitation. I arrived early, it was an old rented hall
with high ceilings and white walls and blue carpet. At the front of
the hall stood a speakers podium and facing it were rows of neatly
arranged chairs divided by an isle. There were a about 15 or so
people standing around chatting and Roy was with them, he came right
over and began to introduce me to everyone. They seemed friendly and
warm, especially the girls who were quite good looking! Okay I’m in
the right place I thought as I talked to a beautiful red head with
blue eyes and sharp black rimmed spectacles. I always thought of
church people as reverent and boring but these individuals had
something I wanted, I could feel it but I just didn’t know what
that was – yet.
Then
the pastor walked in with his wife and Roy introduced me, his name
was Michael O Brian and he and his wife (can’t remember her name)
where Americans. They seemed rather friendly. Michael then excused
himself and the couple walked to the front of the hall and positioned
themselves, Michael at the podium and his wife sat down at the
electric piano, by this time the room was nearly full so I sat with
Roy at the back and watched.
Behind
Michael was a large white screen and all of a sudden it was lit up
with the bright light of an overhead projector the kind I was used to
in high school. Michael then proceeded to open with a short prayer
and then the words of a praise song appeared on the screen and a
young boy with a guitar stood in front of the podium and began to
lead the group in worship accompanied by Michaels wife on the piano,
they sang about 2 or so songs and then people began to raise their
hands as if in surrender and shout out praises to God as they sang,
some also began to speak in what sounded like garbled language then
the room was filled with a wonderful peaceful presence, it made me
want to cry – I felt embarrassed so I held back. I could feel this
strong compelling coming from inside of my body wanting to let go but
I was afraid so I sat down pretended to pray hoping no one would
notice me. I just wanted to run out of the hall as I felt so unworthy
to be in that place. I became very aware of the sin in my life and it
made me uncomfortable. Then the music stopped and there was silence
and then one by one people began to speak out words they believed God
was giving then, some in the garbled language and some as I later
found out gave the meaning of the garbled words. I had heard my
Mother talk about this kind of thing before but had never experienced
it until now. Then it was over and big loud thanks went up to God.
The
pastor then gave a short sermon and when he was finished we all filed
into the adjacent room and drank some coffee. Roy asked me what I
thought .I told him I was not to sure but I think I liked it.
I
kept returning over the next several weeks and watching. Some nights
they did altar calls-that is to ask if anyone wanted to ask Jesus
into their hearts. I still was not ready for that yet. One night
Harry, Roys father came and at the altar call he walked boldly down
the isle and accepted Jesus, Roy and I both cried.
That
night the pastor talked about the baptism of the holy spirit and then
again the next week (I wont go into what it means now) it sounded
great and I knew I wanted it but there was a price to pay it meant
surrendering your whole life over to Jesus. That scared me because I
thought what if God wants me to become a Catholic priest those guys
could never get married or have sex, hey, that was a big hang up for
me.
Then
about two weeks later after a Friday night meeting in the coffee room
I was talking with Trish a girl I had become close to and I confided
in Trish my secret fear, she looked at a me and smiled and said she
didn’t think that God would want me to do that but it was also a
possibility. That did not make me feel any better about my upcoming
decision .It was tearing me up inside and I knew I would not have any
real relief until I surrendered my life to Jesus. Then I thought my
life isn’t that great now what have I got to lose. So with knots in
my stomach I walked over to the pastor and youth leader who were
praying for someone else and waited. When they were finished they
asked me what they could do for me, .I told them that I was afraid
but that I wanted to accept Jesus into my heart and receive the
baptism of the Holy Spirit as well. Then John the youth leader led me
in a simple prayer of repentance and renouncing Satan and all his
hold over me and then I asked Jesus into my heart and surrendered to
him at which point Michael prayed for me to receive the baptism of
the holy spirit .He then asked me to ask Jesus to baptize me with the
holy spirit and during this whole time they placed both their hands
on my head and shoulders. Michael also told me that I would receive
tongues as a sign of the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Well I asked
Jesus to baptize me with the holy spirit and all of a sudden I was
engulfed in what I can only describe as fire from heaven – not fire
that burns – but fire that is out of this world, warm, yet peaceful
and the presence of strong Love and then Michael asked me to open my
mouth and speak my new language in faith and as I did out came this
sound I had never heard before, it was a language I did not
understand and the more I spoke it the more peaceful I became .It was
a wonderful experience. I
still speak in tongues today and can turn it on and of as I choose.
When I’m confused or unsure of how to pray I simply pray in tongues
and if I don’t receive direction right then I at least receive Gods
peace that all is in his hands.
Some
days later, I was sitting at home and my Dad arrived home and asked
me if we could talk, sure I said. So we sat in the kitchen and he
told that there was a Hotel in west cork called the Bearheaven Hotel
and that he had the opportunity to lease it and would I be interested
in going down there with him and running it. We talked about it for
some time and I did not agree to anything at that moment only that if
I accepted his offer we would go as equal partners not father and
son, I told him that he had burned me there before and that was the
last time and he agreed. The next day I met with my friend Trish and
told her about the offer and we both prayed about what I should do. A
few days later, I told Dad that I would do it but there was something
I had to do first. I told Dad I wanted to be baptized, while he did
not fully understand my new faith he knew it was important to me and
said that was fine.
That
weekend I think it was Sunday afternoon a large group of us gathered
on a cold and windy beach and believe it or not it was snowing (very
rare for Ireland, especially the coast). It was January 14th
1986. Someone started playing worship songs on their guitar and we
formed a circle and sang praises to God. Then Aidian one of the
church elders asked those of us to be baptized to change into our
sweats and line up on the shore and wait our turn, just then it
stopped snowing and the sun came out. Michael waded out into the surf
until he was waste deep and Aidan joined him. One by one, we waded
out and were baptized and believe it or not, I went swimming
immediately after Michael baptized me the water felt great. As soon
the baptisms were over the sun retreated and back came the wind and
the snow, I love how God blesses things with his approval.
The
next day Dad and I drove to Castletownbere to look the Hotel over, it
was late in the evening when we arrived the wind was howling and it
was raining heavily. The hotel building used to be the British Naval
headquarters for the southwest costal region. The hotel had 35
bedrooms a bar, a large restaurant and nightclub and was located
right on the Ocean. Castle town is fishing port and boasts a large
fleet of boats; it has population of about 2000
A
couple of years previous Dad and I had fitted out the local
supermarket with new shelving and had become acquainted with some of
the local residents. Over the next 2 weeks, we started to prepare the
hotel for the upcoming summer season. We restocked the bar and
nightclub, remodeled the kitchen and updated the restaurant, reopened
the bedrooms and in general with a limited budget had the hotel up
and running. During that time I got to know the local publicans and
many fishermen and they were very friendly and helpful.
I
always desired a hotel of my own and now I had my hearts desire and
was living it to the best of my ability. I ran the bar and nightclub
and Dad the restaurant and rooms. This went on for about 8 months but
inside was this nagging feeling that there was something more and
this was not it .In the ensuing time my sister niamh came down to
help us towards the end of the summer season. It was regatta weekend
(sailing events and competions) the hotel was booked out and the town
was full of tourists. On the final night which was a Sunday I was
just about to close the nightclub bar when I was approached by an
island fisherman for one last whiskey he did not look too healthy and
his face was very red, I thought he doesn’t look much different
from all the usual heavy drinkers. So I served him his drink and
closed the bar, cleaned up, had a drink and retired to bed.
Early
the next morning my mother came into my room, woke me up and informed
me that the whiskey drinker had died last night. He had been taking
his boat back to Bear Island where he lived, had suffered a heart
attack, fell over board, and drowned. Most of the local fishermen
could not swim, as they believed it prolonged their deaths and in the
cold waters of the Atlantic it was not a nice way to go.
The
fact that I had served him his last drink on this earth made me feel
depressed and sad but not guilty it was bound to have happened to him
sooner or later. So I got up and decided to go outside clear my head
and cut the grass, I liked cutting the grass, as it was time alone
with me.
It
was a bright sunny morning and a gentle breeze was blowing inland
from the sea. The sent of salt and freshly caught fish filled the air
as the local fishermen offloaded their weekly catch to the local
auction house, it was 8.30am. I pulled on the starter of our new
green lawn mower and began to cut the backyard that faced onto the
southwest corner of the harbor. As the mower was self-propelled, I
followed along lost in thought stopping only to guide the mower in
the needed direction.
I
was thinking about how I had come to this place in my life, the
subsequent events, the fact that I had my life’s dream, Hotel by
the sea surrounded by mountains and terrific scenery, nice car,
motorcycle and all the amenities a good hotel can provide. But alas,
I was miserable, feeling unfulfilled and wanting back the peace I had
enjoyed when I first asked Jesus into my heart. Then the mower
started to drag and veer of course. As I glanced down to find the
cause of the problem, I noticed that the left front wheel had come
off. I soon found it but could not find the nuts, washers and bolt
that held it in place. After I had searched for some time a thought
struck me, why not God challenge, hey what did I have to loose. So I
looked up to heaven and said God thank you for this Hotel and all
that you have allowed me have but I am miserable and I want to have
back what I had before and to follow you for the rest of my life and
London England keeps coming to mind and if you want me to go there, I
will, but my sign and confirmation will be if I find those nuts and
bolts, but not just find them but find then in a row.
As
soon as I prayed that, I turned around and there they were behind me
in a row in the spot I had walked over and searched many times. I did
not hesitate I marched inside to the hotel laundry room, grabbed a
large blue laundry bag, went to my room and packed the bag with my
belongings and as I knew my Dad was driving to our house in cork city
I hitched a ride and also told him of my plans, I told my sister she
could have my half of the Hotel and of course they both gave me that
look of we know you will be back. I did not tell them what had
occurred earlier, they already thought I was nuts, why confirm it. So
dad drove me to our house and I walked into my church to visit my
friends and tell them of my plans. It was great to see them all. They
laid hands on me and prayed that I would hear clearly from God and
then I went bought my boat ticket for London England and left 2 days
later.
I
arrived in London 3 days later and took a train down to the seaside
resort of Brighton to visit an old friend but to be honest his girl
friend was not very accommodating and so I returned to London to
visit another friend and stayed with them about 2 days after which I
went to visit my dads sister Margaret. Margaret was a Christian and I
had stayed with her on my previous excursion to London. When I
arrived my uncle Des was waiting for me on the doorstep and told me
to leave. (I had talked with him about a week ago and told him of my
plans and as he did not agree with me and the conversation became
hostile on his end I hung up rather than prolong the inevitable) I
told him I just wanted to see Margaret but he would not allow it.
Finally, my aunt heard the commotion and pushed Des aside and invited
me in but said I could not stay there. I told her all I wanted to do
was talk and so we sat down in the living room and I told her all
that had happened. She tried to talk me into going back to the Hotel,
but the more I talked to her the more convinced she became that God
was indeed calling me to London .So we prayed and asked Gods guidance
and then I got up to leave, as I did my aunt rembered a news letter
she received on a monthly basis from Youth With A Mission, she went
and retrieved it and gave it to me. They, YWAM, had an office in
Leister Square London and as it was early Saturday morning I decided
to go and visit them.
My
aunt hugged me, we said our goodbyes, and I told her I would keep in
touch. 15 minutes later I was on the London under ground (tube train)
heading for Lester square .on the train I met an old friend from
Ireland who wanted me to go for a drink but I thanked him and said
some other time. (London has a population of 12 million and the
chances of bumping into someone you know is extremely rare, I
believed God had a divine appointment for me that day and I was not
going to miss it) I arrived at Leister square shortly after and
walked across the square to the YWAM office that was located in an
alley way just of the square .The building was about 200 yrs old and
was part of a Chinese church. This was the rear entrance the front
faced onto Trafalgular Square. I rang the doorbell and a moment
later, a rather tired looking man in his early thirties came and
opened the door. He explained that the office was closed but that the
YWAM team fellowship at the cell church that met at this location the
following day and as he was the pastor, I was welcome to visit. I
thanked him and welcomed his kind invitation.
That
night I stayed in a youth hostel and arrived early the next morning
as they were setting out the chairs in a semi circle facing a blank
wall. The room was about 18 by 40 and held about 35 people. There was
no podium and the walls though light avocado green were bare except
for one large window that faced out on to Trafalgar square. The room
was at the top of a flight of stairs that led 3 flights down to the
main door and the alley. Outside was a counter with a large coffee
urn and people were standing around drinking, so I joined them and
introduced myself, it was a friendly group and received my advances
and questions warmly. One man in particular named Graham Salt told me
that God told him to look after me and that I was to go with him to a
house called the Chase that was in the sw of London called Clapham
Common .I was not so sure about this myself and thought possibly the
guy was gay or weird but everyone knew him and respected him and he
was known as the mole on account of his street ministry to the
homeless of London .I agreed to go with graham after the service.
Then the man who I had met the day before walked into the room, took
his place in front, and opened with prayer. (His name was Russell
Grubb) This was then followed by praise and worship and then a man by
the name of Alan Beerdall got up and preached a short sermon, he was
a youth with a mission pastor, I liked him he spoke from his heart,
little did I know that he was going to be a great mentor to me. Alan
was currently leading an operation year team in Leister Square.
Then
it was over and the group went into the hall and shared a potluck
lunch.
Later
that afternoon Graham and I traveled by London underground to the
Chase in clapham common.
A
Bearded Australian greeted us at the door by the name of Warrick
Murphy. Warrick was about 5/11 and was medium build, brown eyes and
dirty blonde hair, he wore jeans and a sweatshirt and his beard was
long, he could have been a member of the rock group ZZ top. Warrick
shook my hand and welcomed me to the chase, graham excused himself
and told me he would see me later, Warrick then led me down the
hallway to a large door on the left, and he opened it and invited me
inside. It was a large room about 20 by 20 with a tall bay window
facing out onto the street. In front of the window was an old office
desk and Warrick sat down in front of it and I sat in a folding chair
facing him.
Warrick
looked straight at me and smiling said “well Michael Quinlan’’
what is your story. So I spilled the beans and Warrick listened with
deep interest. When I was finished speaking, Warrick told me all
about the chase and how YWAM had opened it as a half way house for
new Christians to help them find their feet and to provide a safe
place to grow before going out on their own. He explained that it was
for men only and that we shared all the household duties including
cooking .We would also join the local YWAM teams on their weekly
outreaches in London .We were greatly encouraged to attend a church
but it was not mandatory. He told me that his family lived on the top
floor and that area was out of bounds unless we were invited.
Then
he asked me if how I felt about all this and what was I personally
looking for. I told him that I wanted a place to live where I could
grow with other Christians and I liked the sound of what he had told
me so far and I would love to live here and that I would have no
problem following the house rules and would love to participate in
the weekly outreaches and that more importantly I wanted it to be
Gods will and not mine.
Warrick
then told me that there was no formal application process and that
the only way I could stay here was if it was Gods will and that he
his wife June and the Staff would seek Gods will for me in there
prayer time that evening and would get back to me in a day or so and
give the verdict. I told him I did not have a phone and would it be
ok if I called the following evening, he said that would be fine and
with that we both got up and Warrick walked me to the front door
shook my hand and told me that I was in Gods hands and to trust God
to act on my behalf. Then I headed back to the underground station
and took the train back to the youth hostel where I was staying. I
prayed real hard that day and asked God to close the door if he did
not want me to stay there. But somehow, deep in my heart I knew that
the Chase was the place for me that regardless of what Warrick or
anyone else thought God would lead them to accept me. So the next
evening believing in faith I called Warrick and heard the news I was
eagerly waiting for.
Warrick
told me that God had given them a perfect peace about my coming to
live at the chase; I was delighted and asked when I could move in, he
said tomorrow.
The
next morning I awoke early and packed my bag and headed for the
underground,
I
was at the door of the chase 20 mins later. Warrick opened the door
and greeted me with a big welcome and broad smile, June was standing
next to him, she was about 5/3 black hair brown eyes, pale complexion
medium build and wearing jeans and a navy sweat shirt, she was also
Australian and struck me as a strong women with a good back bone, the
kind you do not mess with and the future was soon to prove my
predictions right. Warrick then took me on a tour of the house .The
chase was 4 stories tall with a basement. We began in the basement.
The basement was fitted out as a large kitchen and had a door leading
out to the back yard that was surrounded by a large stonewall that
was typical of most English homes. They also had a dog, a collie and
it was rambunctious and for the life of me now, I cannot remember his
name, but we became good friends. We then climbed the stairs to the
main floor and my new bedroom, it was at the top of the stairs to the
left and was furnished with a pair of bunk beds to the left of door,
and to the right was a large bay window that looked down onto the
back yard. Down the hall by the front door was the office Warrick and
I had talked in, Warrick said we were allowed to use the office any
time to have a quiet time with God or to make local phone calls only
.On the same floor was the bathroom and shower facilities .The next
floor were the staff bedrooms and another bathroom, and also the
clothes closet of donated items that we were allowed to use as we had
need (I found my first pair of Clarks shoes, best walking shoes in
the world and I have been buying then ever since ) and the floor
above was Warrick and Junes family living quarters.
Later
that afternoon I met my room mates, Daily a tall man in his thirties
of slender build and dark complexion, a college student from Nigeria,
Derrick a thin lanky red haired teenager from Yorkshire. Daily spoke
at a snails pace and Derrick was as quick as any Irishman I knew.
Both daily and I were about to learn the true definition of patience.
Derrick on the other hand had grown up on the streets and had never
known the love of parents or unconditional love for that mater and
hugs were out of the question.
The
next morning daily and I were first down to breakfast; we made
ourselves coffee and cereal and decided to go for a morning walk on
Clapham common. A common in England is like a small state park in the
states and they are normally found in large cities. They have trees,
pounds, and large open areas for dogs, and general recreation.
As
we walked, Daily told me how he was seeking asylum in England after
the military coup that had recently occurred in his home country
Nigeria. He had been in college in London on a scholarship from his
country when the coup occurred and as a result, all government
funding had been canceled and so here, he was penniless and trusting
God to provide. Daily was highly intelligent and was currently
working on his masters in business management, but boy he spoke at an
incredibly slow pace, and I on the other hand being Irish conversed
at the speed of a racehorse on steroids, ok slight expatiation but it
made for a very interesting friendship. Over the next 6 months, we
became very close friends despite our obvious differences. (Very
often the areas we dislike or are afraid to face will be the areas
god will ask us to delve into and explore so that we don’t
necessarily become masters at but at least be able to walk in that
persons shoes, or no longer walk in fear so to speak)
When
we arrived back at the chase we were instructed by Heidi (a staff
member from Canada) to go to the kitchen and start the prep for the
evening meal, peal potatoes etc and then return about 4pm and cook,
the rest of the day was ours to do as we pleased. So we both opted to
go into London central and sightsee. London has some amazing art
galleries, military museums, and natural history and science museums
and best of all there is no charge. Over the next several weeks, we
wore a lot of shoe leather visiting the various museums, and we never
tired of the endless exhibits and paintings. London is a very
masculine city unlike Paris that is feminine. Both cities at one time
were the centers of world power and this is very evident as you walk
their streets and view the various monuments and statues erected to
Kings, Queens, and Generals and battles fought on foreign soil...
Sundays
were filled with good fellowship at the church in Leister Square.
Most of the people that attended were college students or members of
YWAM and all were eagerly seeking Gods will in their lives. Alan
Beerdall was my favorite pastor as he was incredibly humble yet
strong in his faith. He constantly taught us to listen to the voice
of the Holy Spirit and not to rush but to wait until the spirit moves
us and believe me its not easy; it is like learning a whole new
culture. Alan was a street evangelist and led the Thursday night
outreaches in Leister Square. He was a natural and was always willing
to lead by example. For example when he was teaching about Words of
knowledge (That is getting a word from the holy spirit Alan directed
us to pray in the spirit and when the holy spirit gave us a picture
word or impression to speak it out and continue as the spirit led.
For example when we were praying for somebody for a physical healing
we were to lay hands on them (with their permission) and pray in
tongues and wait until we got direction from the Holy Spirit and then
act upon that information accordingly.
Once
when a friend asked me to pray that they could receive the baptism of
the Holy Spirit, the spirit showed me a picture of her husband and
impressed on me that she had to forgive him for something at which
point she cried and I told her she did not have to tell me what the
issue was but that I would pray with her and agree with her and she
did. Next I got a picture of Jesus standing in front of her holding a
large wooden bowl in his hands and asking her to take it from him and
drink from it. So, she did and began to drink and as she did I could
see water flowing down into her stomach and then back up and out her
mouth at which point she began to laugh uncontrollably and could not
stop and as she laughed her makeup ran and boy did she look a site
(perfect face for Halloween lol). She had never truly laughed before
as she had led a very somber life to this juncture and now this was
all about to change. She asked me when this was going to stop, I
replied that some times it went on for hours and then she just
doubled over and kept going. Then the holy spirit told me to tell her
that I was going to count to 5 at which point she would speak in her
new prayer language and as I reached 5 out it came and as usual it
was an unintelligible sound, after a moment I told her to stop
speaking and she did and then start again and that this she could
control and pray anytime, but as for the laughter, well she was in
Gods hands at which point I began to laugh also and so did our prayer
partner who was sitting to her left. (Sorry forgot to mention her its
always good to have a third member when you are praying for someone
of the opposite sex unless of course its your spouse and then again
depending on the state of your relationship maybe a third may be
necessary especially if your praying about money.
INTERMISSION!
Reference
to foot note Bomb scare Victoria Hotel Cork city Ireland.
A
friend of mine who worked as a hotel porter at the Victoria met me in
the locker room one day and showed me his latest purchase a new wind
up alarm clock, the kind with the duel bells on top. As the clock
came in a box wrapped in brown paper it gave me an interesting idea.
. So I asked him if I could borrow it for about ten minutes, of
course Paul asked me why and I told him I was going to set the alarm
for 8 mins from now and rewrap the package and walk out to the lobby
and tell the receptionist that I had found this ticking package under
a table in the bar. We both laughed at what we thought would be a
good practical joke.
So
of I trotted to the lobby and an unsuspecting receptionist. However
it did not go as planned, Murphy’s Law was waiting for me. The
receptionist immediately set of the hotel evacuation alarm and with
in mins the place was vacant and I was in major trouble, especially
when the alarm went of in my hand while I was trying to explain that
it was only a joke. When my Dad arrived shortly there after, he came
and found me in the staff quarters and I received a swift kick in the
rear as I tried to take off when I saw the angry look on his face.
With my rear end smarting from the pain, I decided it was a good time
to leave and on the way out I grabbed my motorbike helmet, jumped on
the bike and headed out of town for the weekend. Actually I was gone
for about 5 days, a little island called Cape Clear of the south west
coast of Ireland, in my case I think it would have been more aptataly
named Keep Clear.
Well
while I was on sabbatical my Dad also left for the coast to visit an
old friend and fellow hotel owner. During his stay he went for a
drive in his yellow beach buggy and as my father liked to put his
foot through the floor and rub the black top – the yellow rocket
collided with a brick left behind by the local builder. As dad had
emptied a fifth of Irish whiskey his vision was questionable to say
the least and went end over end and he came into contact with the
local E R room at Bantry Bay Hostipal. As he was already bald, he
lost no hair but his face however looked like a piece of meat
recently murdered by Julia Childs. Four days later he was sent home
and arrived back at the hotel minus the beach buggy and using my
Grandmothers cane to steady his rather shattered form, needless to
say we both hugged and made up, it was a life changing event for us
both, near death experiences change your out look on the present and
each moment from that day becomes precious. Did dad stop speeding,
no; he just started wearing his seatbelt and bought a motorcycle.
BACK
TO LONDON AND THE CHASE!
One
morning at the chase where I was residing I awoke to a bright sunny
day, showered and as I was drying my hair I looked at my reflection
in the bathroom mirror and thought to myself, Michael me boy you need
a haircut. As my financial resources were extremely limited (I had
none) I prayed and asked Jesus for some money for a haircut. I then
went down to the kitchen, ate breakfast and pondered my current
moneytory status and then I remembered that London had Job centers in
each borough. Job centers post local want adds for labor both full
and part time and the service is provided free of charge by the local
council. So off I went on foot and to the nearest high street and
through the door of the job center and scanned the want adds on the
part time notice board. I heard the phone ring and about 30 seconds
later the office manger walked over to me and asked would I like a
mornings work unloading a large truck down the street, sure I
replied, he also asked a tall black man standing next to me. Five
minutes later we were both walking down the high street address in
hand and looking forward to some honest work.
About
3 hours later cash in hand we both left, as we parted I asked frank
(my work buddy) where the nearest barber shop was, frank gave me
directions, we shook hands and I ambled of to get a hair cut and also
thanked Jesus for his provision.
After
a nice amble I arrived at the shop, they are easily recognizable by
the traditional red and white swirled 3 foot long pole that sticks
out at a 45 degree angle above the door way. This one was located in
the basement of an alley behind the high street and so I went down
the steps and walked in the door and coming in from bright sunlight
it seemed rather dark inside and as it took a short while for my eyes
to adjust, when they finally did it still seemed dark and very
quickly I found out why, the shop was located in a black neighbor
hood. Well I felt a bit like buddy Holly when the curtain lifted at a
concert he was playing in the states and he discovered a black
audience and his famous comment was “ We weren’t expecting you
either”. So like buddy I did not exit stage left but strummed my
vocal cords and said “how’s it goin”. There was an embarrassing
silence and as the shop was full except for one empty chair, I
plucked up my courage and walked to the safe haven of the chair and
sat down, the silence abated and conversation continued. There were 3
barbers busily cutting away and one turned and greeted me and as he
did so I noticed he was drinking a can of Guinness Irish stout and
that was my Que. Good choice of drink I said and mentioned I was from
Ireland and as the Irish and the Africans drink in the same pubs the
conversation became quiet friendly indeed. We swapped stories and in
general had a good banter and then it was my turn to sit in the
barber’s chair. Well what style you would like the barber asked, I
thought for a second and while doing so looked at the guy in the
adjacent chair that was getting a close shave and said that looks
good, give me that, OOOK he said and took out the number one comb and
attached it to the electric trimmer. About 8 minutes later he was
finished and to be honest I looked like a polish refugee fresh of the
boat in America, there where a lot of smiles and polite laughs from
my new found tribe as I paid and left and promised I would return.
About
1 year later on a rainy afternoon in London I was finishing up my run
for the day as a motorcycle dispatch rider (more about that later)
when I decided to go and have my hair cut and as I was not to far
from the barbershop behind high street, I wound the throttle and
headed for Shangri-La. I arrived at the door of the barber shop and
as it was raining and I was wearing my black water proofs along with
a black woolen ski mask on my head .I guess I looked like an Irish
terrorist on his rounds .Any way as I stepped through the door way
and removed my helmet there was a look of concern and a long silence
on the faces of the local tribe. So with a big smile and a How’s it
goin, I removed the ski mask and was instantly recognized as the
white Irish guy from the year before. I have to admit it was fun
spooking them, but we had another great session followed by a not so
smooth hair cut, I mean not as short this time, a traditional
American short back and sides.
I
would have to say that London England was the place where God taught
me to lean more on him and not on the familiar. Well for one reason I
was in a strange place and had no references points only that we all
spoke English, well most of us anyway. I learned to listen and lean
more deeply on the voice of the Holy Spirit and I prayed about every
thing. Hey! One morning I woke up and asked God for a pair of good
shoes as I had loaned a pair to a friend and I never saw him again.
Well I went up stairs to the clothes closet and looked at the foot
ware and could not believe what I found, a slightly used pair of
“Clarks Air Walkers” In Ireland these were the ultimate walking
shoe but my family could never afford to purchase them and yes you
guessed it they were a perfect fit.
God
will gladly provide for us if we will only ask and of course if we
are in right standing with him all are needs are met that’s his
promise to us.
and
of course there have been times when` I have not been in my eyes in
right standing with God and he has blessed me anyway Through this I
have learned that you cannot put God in box or even predict what he
is going to do or where he is going to show up. The only way u can
truly hear his voice is by developing a true relationship with him
and it does not just come from reading the bible, or attending church
or knowing some great saint in your eyes. It’s like when you were a
child and you moved to a new town and on your first day at school you
meet a lot of new potential friends and at that moment of your young
life it’s a FRESH START A NEW BEGINNING and so you meet Bob the
classmate that sits next to you. Bob is a short chubby little chap ,
but with a happy disposition and so as Bob has already made the first
move and said hi and welcome , you decide to accept his invitation of
friendship and start a conversation .After a few weeks your circle of
friends has grown , but the one you are growing closest to is Bob and
you both hang out after school as you live on the same block .You
know each others likes dislikes , thoughts , parents and in general
have developed a foundation for a life long friendship, over the
years you have fights , disagreements, but you always resolve these
issues due to the fact that you both have a healthy foundation to
your friendship and so you survive and grow stronger, you take these
same skills into your marriage and build strong bonds with your soul
mate and as you have learned from these experiences there is no short
cut to a healthy strong relationship , it takes time and commitment .
It’s
the same with Jesus, God and the Holy spirit, You can study the bible
all u want , go to seminary ,even attend church , believe it or not
Satan does all these things and so information is not enough .You say
Satan cannot does these things oh yes he can this earth unfortunately
is his kingdom this is where he was cast down to by God and so when
we become Christians we become light in darkness and Satan will send
his demons to snuff us out and if we have not developed a healthy
relationship with the holy spirit it will be like fighting fire with
paper and our faith will be shown for what it truly is not built on a
healthy foundation with the trinity. Bottom line is we are nothing
with out the life we have in Jesus Christ , man was made to have a
true relationship with God not a religious one, that is to fictitious
and you might as well study Shakespeare for all the good it will do
you , you will never get to have a true friendship with Bob.
PAGE
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1
Demons are real but a force not to be
afraid of and as long as we stay connected to the father he will
always have our back.
