Open Writing

When my wife, Betty and I entered the Hotel Sol Trinidad in Magaluf, Majorca, our first impressions were favourable. Our granddaughter, who was due to join us, had chosen this hotel because it was wheelchair friendly.

I had no special feelings or premonitions. It was just another holiday hotel. Little did I realise that my stay there was going to significantly change my life.

As we settled in we got talking to some of the other guests and began to make new friends. Within a few days, we were part of a group of four couples, me and Betty, Sid and Doreen, Gordon and Jackie, and Lawrence and Nina Mowatt. We all joined each other at different times during the day for a drink and a chat. The four men of the group joined in almost all the activities that the hotel laid on and we soon became known by the entertainers as the A-Team.

One man stood out from the rest of us. This was Lawrence. While we were having a beer he drank lemon juice or coffee. He stood out because of his quiet manner. At times he appeared to be deep in thought and there was an aura of goodness about him. When he spoke, people actually listened to him. I was captivated by his intelligent and knowledgeable input to our conversations.

Lawrence told us that he was a skipper on a tug boat in the Orkneys. I wasn’t too sure where the islands were, and he was delighted to give me a description of his homeland. When we were alone together I was pleasantly surprised to discover that we had a lot in common. During my military service I had been a sub aqua diver and an explosives NCO. He had also been a sub aqua diver dealing with underwater explosives.

I was delighted when he helped me get my wheelchair over some of the obstacles during games organised by the hotel staff. Nothing was too much trouble for him. His laughter delighted my ears and I could tell that he was genuinely enjoying himself.

Over a couple of days I noticed that Lawrence seemed to want to tell me something but that he was unsure how to begin. Finding me alone in the lounge he finally did get around to telling me some of the things he had done in his life. At first I found the conversation a little confusing, but he soon came to the point. He said he was a spiritualist healer and he had been sent by God to heal me. I saw that he was serious so I listened intently to what he had to say. He explained that as I had done good deeds for others over the years, it was my turn to be healed. I asked him why me and not the lady with Alzheimer’s who was also staying at the hotel. Lawrence informed me that one day there would be someone to help that lady, but he was here for me. However he had to have my permission to heal me.

I remembered what my Aunt Chrissie, who was deaf and blind, had told me years ago. If you do good in the world that goodness will be returned to you four-fold, and never underestimate the power of prayer.

I gave Lawrence my permission.

He laid his hand on my leg and said a prayer. Within minutes I felt a tingling and warm sensation in my foot, something that I had not felt in twenty years.

Lawrence said that healing could be a gradual process as my muscles needed time in which to regain their power, but I would walk again. I would no longer be totally dependent on my wheelchair. As he spoke I began to feel sensation in my other leg and told him so. Within half an hour I was able to slide my left foot off the footrest of my wheelchair. I was absolutely overjoyed.

Over the following hours I could feel pain in my legs. I also felt very tired. So much so that I went to bed early. I was still feeling tired the next day, and I kept falling asleep. Lawrence explained that this was all part of the healing process.

By the time Lawrence and Nina were about to leave the following morning I could slide both my feet off my footrests, then put them back again.

Lawrence placed his hand on my chest and said another prayer. I could feel the heat from his hand burning into my chest. That heat remained long after he had waved cheerio from the the bus that was taking him and his wife to the airport. Members of our group said things would not be the same without Lawrence.

When we arrived home our daughter Lesley was overjoyed to see me moving my feet. She was only five years old when I had the accident which confined me to a wheelchair. Now, at 26, she was seeing me walk.

I began the slow process of exercising my legs to build up the muscles. I bought myself a Zimmer frame. I brought my years of previous military training into force and exercised daily. It was painful and tiring, but I persevered.

For the first time in twenty-one years I can now stand on my own two feet. I know this is going to be a long process. Because of my age I have to be careful not to over-strain myself. But even if I only succeed in getting about while using the Zimmer frame Lawrence will have been proved correct in stating that I would no longer be confined to a wheelchair.

Twenty-one years ago I received a head injury in a road traffic accident. There was no physiotherapy to aid my recovery and the doctors wanted to place me permanently in a home. My spine was injured. Over time I suppose it has gone about the process of repairing itself. I do realise that it is quite possible that all I needed was someone to convince and encourage me into believing that I could walk again.

Lawrence Mowatt was there when I needed him. He gave me the confidence to walk again, even if I walk with the aid of a Zimmer frame.

I have a date to keep when I can walk a few more steps. I want to walk up to Lawrence Mowatt on his Orkney island and shake him by the hand. Then the lemon juice is on me.

God bless you Lawrence!