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 30^th 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 12^th) 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 14^th 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.

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