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I spoke to many, some homeless, some not. I prayed first for a young polish widow named Magdalena with 2 children. She wanted to grow in her faith.  Then Crystal, who wanted more direction I her life.

After I prayed for her a man on some kind of drugs came cussing both of us and the entire hot dog operation. He took me aside to tell me we were “B.S.”ing these people. God gave me a rush of the Holy Spirit and with a big smile I told him God Bless him. He didn't like that. I told him he wasn't making a point or any sense, so he left. God diffused a potentially dangerous situation.

Thursday morning we went to Daley Plaza, named for the original mayor Daley. Our job was to blend in with the lunch crowd and meet people. The kids had stacks of busness cards that said “May I pray for you?” These were to help introduce themselves. This trip I had prayed for more boldness at this location.  I walked up to umbrella tables and sat down with guys who had space. “How's it going?” I'd say as I pulled out my water bottle.
    I came upon two casually dressed men, an old man, Tom and a young black man, Eugene, having a conversation at a table with room for me. They were into a political discussion about Chicago corruption and welcomed me as if I was a listener on Rush Limbaugh. This talk show had a little coarser language. I actually learned a lot about Chicago and their system of Aldermans under the mayor.

 

 Soon after I met with Lee Wirth, a lay evangelist who I had met on the phone on Monday from the Chicago Charismatic Renewal. Lee works with Catholic Youth. He had ridden the train in from South west of Chicago about 45 minutes just to meet me and Brad and see what we were doing. Lee and I sat down by the fountain to chat and exchange printed matter.

The last divine appointment was Dave. After parting with Lee in Daley Plaza at noon, I was off for the afternoon. I had been determined before I left Texas to finally go to my first baseball game at Wrigley Field, second oldest ballpark to Fenway in Boston. I hopped the Redline train from downtown and headed to “Wrigleyville,” me and all the blue-shirted Cub fans.
  

 Buying a single ticket from a scalper, I had 30 min to find my seat before the first pitch. Turns out I had a great upper reserved seat, between third and home. Another man about my age was right next to me. Having asked God to arrange someone to sit next to, I prayed “here we go, Lord,” and introduced myself.

Dave is a long time Chicago resident about my age. We are both baseball nuts. He helped me piece together the lineups on my score card during the first few innings. What a beautiful day and a beautiful ballpark. Lake Michigan peeks around the buildings across the street.
    I explained to Dave why I was in town and his reaction indicated he must be a Christian. About mid-game I added we'd been asking people all over town if there was anything they wanted prayer for. Dave said I could pray for his wife, who was backslid from the Lord and had stopped going to Mass.  Right there in Wrigley Field I prayed for my new friend's wife. That's heavier than seeing Moonlight Graham's name appear on the scoreboard and hearing “the voice” say “Go the Distance.”

The Chicago trip showed me that if I would step out of my East Texas comfort zone, God could appoint people who needed help talking to Him. Now the question is; how do I continue to do that at home? I will see what happens next.