Inspired by the true story of Nigel Mumford, a Royal Marine and minister, who went from trained killer to healer to “healed,” saved by the very people he once saved. 

SYNOPSIS:

2009. Nigel Mumford, a handsome, burly, fifty-something Anglican minister and Royal Marine, lies comatose in a hospital bed, hooked up to an oxygen tank with tubes attached to his arms, hands, wrists. He’s dying of Swine Flu. His wife, Lynn, stands beside him, as a Surgeon is bent over him, checking his pulse, breathing, various tubes meant to either feed him or drain him of waste. “Lynn, Nigel’s not absorbing what we’re giving him. His lungs are filling with fluid. The blood in his legs is pooling—his heart is slowing. Stay at his side. I don’t think Nigel will be here in the morning.”

Instead, when the surgeon leaves, Lynn bends over Nigel, kisses him, then goes down the hall to a pay phone. She digs into her purse, fishing out as many quarters as she can find, then starts dialing. One call, two calls, a dozen. More. What is she doing? Why is she disregarding the Surgeon’s instructions?

C.U. on Nigel’s face. Then, dissolve to Nigel, 18, a slip of a young man, enlisting in the British Royal Marines, determined to “prove himself.” He serves two tours of Northern Ireland during the height of The Troubles. He is shot at, bombed—almost killed by a sniper, who kills one of his mates instead. And the image of his mate, lying dead at Nigel’s feet, bleeding—with Nigel unable to save him—is one that will haunt him for the rest of his life. Nigel has a breakdown. PTSD sets in. He can’t eat. Sleep. He is literally unable to speak. When he does, he stutters. He is sent to a hospital, then home. Ultimately he leaves the military on a medical discharge, broken and lost.

Looking to start over, he becomes a construction worker, first in England, and then, via family connection, in Connecticut. In his spare time he picks up extra money by framing paintings, photos, etc. (something he once did in his youth). Ultimately he leaves construction and opens a framing shop; and he’s a roaring success. His skilled hands and pleasant English manner serve him well. He buys a home, a yacht, a sportscar. He’s a wealthy man. “Spiritual Wealth” is the last thing on his mind.

Until one day, in his framing shop, an employee complains of a splitting headache. Nigel feels something brush his hand, which begins to tremble—rapidly—like it’s electrified. Without knowing what he’s doing or why he’s doing it, Nigel walks over to his employee and places his trembling hand on her forehead. Her headache disappears. Nigel, stunned, frightened, tells the woman not to tell anyone. But she does.

Soon more people are coming to Nigel’s shop for healing than framing. Terrified, Nigel seeks the counsel of Canon Jim Glennon, a healing minister and family friend who saved his sister Julie from dystonia by laying hands on her. Canon Glennon urges Nigel to embrace his “gift” rather than hide from it.

After a great deal of soul-searching Nigel agrees, and closes his framing shop. He opens The Oratory of the Little Way, a healing ministry where anyone of any faith-or none at all-can come for a laying on of hands, prayer and healing. Nigel soon learns the “presenting disease,” what we physically see-is often a symptom of a deeper, more troubling spiritual disease. By helping the victim heal spiritually, Nigel is able to help them heal physically.

One Sunday, after a healing session following a church service, Nigel meets Lynn, a lovely divorcee and mother. Lynn is a bridal gown model who makes a living selling “the wedding dream” (where every bride is beautiful and special) to young women, even though her own marriage was a failed nightmare. Though she managed to leave her marriage via divorce, she’s lost. What’s next for her and her children? She has no clue and doesn’t know where to look for answers. Her friend Vicky, who worked for Nigel, urges Lynn to see him. Nigel’s “healing” helps replace Lynn’s fear with faith—and to her surprise, with Nigel’s love. They are married.

Now that they live and sleep together, as man and wife, Lynn discovers something Nigel’s been hiding (from himself and others) for years. He has screaming “night terrors” and flashbacks from Belfast, where he sees his dead Royal Marine mate lying at his feet with Nigel unable to save him. Lynn vows to help Nigel rid himself of that nightmare. When she learns Nigel has been invited to Belfast to attend a Healing Conference designed to help victims of The Troubles make peace with themselves and each other, Lynn urges Nigel to go with her, as a different kind of “honeymoon.” It’s Lynn’s hope that, just as Nigel has helped so many others heal through forgiveness and love, she can do the same for him, by confronting his demons in Belfast and putting them to rest forever. They go. It seems to work.

But while in Belfast, Nigel is stricken with a life-threatening case of Swine Flu.

He and Lynn return to the U.S., where Nigel is rushed to a hospital, lapsing into a coma. He is comatose for over a month—with the doctors powerless to stop what is killing him—and finally, as we come back full circle to the opening scene, Lynn is told to stay at Nigel’s side. He won’t be there in the morning.

Instead, Lynn leaves the room, gets on a pay phone and begins calling people. People who have been healed by Nigel. People who know him. Anyone who’s willing to help pray for his recovery. While they can’t see him, touch him or go near him, they can join hands and (just as he has done for them, many times), pray for his healing. They gather in a family room at the hospital—dozens of them—and at Lynn’s insistence, hand to hand, with Lynn leading, they pray for Nigel’s healing, armed only with their love, faith and belief in the Power of God’s and Christ’s Love. The camera does a tight closeup—on them, their hands, faces—and then on Nigel’s face, and hands.

The image dissolves into to the inside of a church. Packed. Organ music playing. A priest at the pulpit. The congregation rises. Is it a funeral—for Nigel? A memorial?

We hear a tapping sound, on the floor at the rear of the church, center-aisle. The congregation turns.

Nigel. With Lynn. Walking. Very much alive. And the tapping is his cane, on the church floor. People turn to see him. Nod. Touch him. Wipe away tears.

Nigel gets to the pulpit. Ascends, with great difficulty. Looks at the congregation, through tears of gratitude.

“Shall we pray?”

This is a true story. I’m one of the people who prayed for him.