We went down to the French Quarter of New Orleans for dinner. There were people everywhere, and it got busier as it got later. Music poured out of the bars and restaurants along Bourbon Street. Employees at certain bars were out in the streets peddling attractions that no one needs to see.
I was really nervous going down there about finding someone to pray for. I wanted to find someone who might be open to hearing it, and the French Quarter to me seems to be such an inhospitable place for that. I'd been there the last time I was in New Orleans, and I even asked to pray for someone, but I didn't particularly enjoy being down there.
We went to Acme Oyster House, where a line of people extended out of the building. I was with two guys, one of whom is my brother-in-law, Tony. When we got to the front of the line, a security guard was sitting in front of the restaurant. He really was a New Orleans police officer, probably working an off-duty job. He was keeping a close eye on the place, which was very busy.
He quickly became my target, and I kept my eye on him while we waited. When we finally got inside, he was standing deeper in the restaurant, close to our table. So I just leaned in and asked him my question. He was a short, stout guy -- not fat, just very strong. It was loud in there, but he heard me just fine. I told him it was kind of an odd question, and he chuckled. But he didn't hesitate. He said I could pray for him right there on the spot, so I did, praying into his ear. He thanked me, and I headed for my seat.
Maybe 15 minutes later as he was walking through the restaurant, he put his hand on my shoulder and thanked me again. Tony, who was sitting across from me, gave me a funny look. "My project," I explained. He smiled. He knows all about it.
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