While talking with one of the men in the UGM recovery program, I heard a woman loudly shouting threats and cries on the street. 

We meet on the second floor each week where I mentor him, and there is a large bay window where we can look out over the streets. 

I'm sure I've heard this same woman crying out before, but it's not an unusual thing, but this day the Holy Spirit began to rise up in compassion for this woman. 

I interrupted our discussion and suggested we pray for the woman. 

We decided to get up and see if we could identify her, but the shouts echo off the buildings so we surveyed the streets, lined with people awaiting a meal and couldn't see who was shouting. As I looked on the mass of hurting people my thoughts shifted from her to others. 

At last we looked on the other side and saw the woman who so loudly poured out her life's complaints. She was busy about her shopping basket which contained all her life's belongings. 

So now I began to pray but the "moment" of emotion had passed for me, but I prayed none the same. 

When I finished, it appeared that the Holy Spirit had fallen on the fella I was with and he poured out a heartfelt prayer for this forlorn woman.  

When he concluded, he just stood there and remarked how he had Holy Spirit goosebumps all over him! I too felt the Presence as he prayed. 

It was but a "moment," a seemingly small obedience to Christ's command that "men ought always to pray."

When I left I thought I might see her, but she had moved on; but one of the brothers in the program was standing outside between some people and I greeted him, chatted for a minute, and then I greeted a young woman, 22ish, on his left, a pathetic little thing, tall, very thin with scabs on her face, little beauty on the outside, but remnants of youthfulness in her voice. I looked her straight in the eyes and felt such a love for her, looking back, I missed an opportunity to pray for her. Why didn't I?

I was in a rush to beat traffic, so I turned to quickly greet another tall, handsome young man with a hard gaze, and also many scabs, and he put out his hand and looked me straight in the face. I simply said, 'God bless you brother.' To which he responded, "God bless you too." Somehow I felt like he really meant it, and I thanked him and walked through the crowd to my car.