One Man's Calling : One Man's Calling, ch 20 by Wayne Fowler |
In the last part Ben saved a Hank’s job by filling in for him, and saved his family with counseling for a fourteen-year-old and healing for Dad. Armed with a sack of biscuits and jerky, and a canteen of water, as well as a small case for a change of clothes and a few essentials, Ben boarded a train that would, with a couple transfers, get him to Chicago. Since it was coach, he would be allowed to get off and back onto a different train at will. After sharing with those around him who had nothing but hungry eyes, he learned he had enough for only one meal. But he wasn’t a bit sorry for sharing. Sensing no reason to get off at St Louis, or any of the water stops other than for exercise and an occasional bite to eat, Ben merely transferred to his Chicago bound train. Not a single notion what his new life would look like, all he knew for certain was that he would miss the Rocky Mountains. “Ever been to Chicago, youngster?” The run from St Louis to Chicago was full. “Chicago?” Ben’s seat mate yelled, shaking Ben from his stupor. Since St Louis, sleep came in fits and spurts. Ben’s seatmate, a man at least twice Ben’s age evidently required little sleep. “Uh, no sir. Never have.” “Best thing ever happened, Catherine O’Leary’s barn catching fire. Made a real nice city of it after burning out all the riff-raff.” “Uh-hmmm,” was all Ben could say to that, not wanting to argue the case of the hundred thousand, or so, who were made homeless and displaced. “Yup. Cleaned up an area a mile wide and four miles long. Still be burning today but for the rain after just two days of the fire. 17,000 buildings.” “Where’d all the people go?” Ben asked. “They have insurance?” “Hah! Sure they had insurance. But when you run for your life, you don’t think about a piece of paper, your policy. And without that… poof.” The old man kissed his gathered fingers, snapping then toward the ceiling as if to say up in smoke. The old man shrugged his shoulders. “Where they went? Back where they came from would be my wish. Some neighborhoods not a soul spoke English. Huh! There’s fifty thousand Sicilians just moved west a few miles. And lots more, too. Calling it Chicagoland for crying out loud! Just sixteen years ago, but it looks like they all come back.” In Ben’s mind’s eye he saw thousands and thousands of hurting people, people lost and needing God, needing saved. +++ It was July of 1887 and Ben had no earthly idea that Chicago could be so hot. He was grateful for the breeze that blew in from the east. People were everywhere. Old Galena Station had been rebuilt much like other buildings in sight, built of brick and stone, and terra cotta clay. Ben saw buildings he had no idea could be constructed so high. He would later learn that they were called skyscrapers. He spent his first night in a room at the Hatch house owned by the railroad, feeling guilty that there were still people without homes or a decent place to sleep. Without clear direction from God, his calling silent, Ben strode toward Lake Michigan, a lake as big as the sea, he’d been told. Though it was a weekday, there were throngs of people at the beach, mostly women and children, but they were flocking to the water to escape the oppressive heat. Suddenly Ben felt an overwhelming urge to preach. In as loud a voice as he could and remain intelligible, he began. “Hear the word of the Lord! Hear his words of salvation! The kingdom of the Lord is at hand! People, Jesus loves you. He wants to live in your hearts.” Folks quickly backed away from Ben, but didn’t run. Most of them turned to listen. It wasn’t long until a youth came running up with an empty, wooden soap box that Ben hopped onto. In an instant between words Ben thought as how just a week previous he couldn’t have climbed onto the box without help, or falling down. “People, when pestilence, or fire, sweeps through your towns, your homes, and takes your children, children that Jesus gathers to himself, don’t you want to be one day with them?” Mothers within Ben’s hearing to a soul each looked toward her own children. “When banks fail and lenders come for your home, don’t you want a savior? When the Reaper comes for you, don’t you wish to know your destiny? “People, Jesus loves you, and he wants you under his protective wings. All you have to do is believe that he is the son of God. That he died and rose again, and that you are a sinner, as are we all, and that you would like to be saved.” Ben went on for a half an hour in the same vein. Some wandered off, some turned back to the water, and their activities, but others replaced them. Ben didn’t shriek, or threaten Satan’s curse, but offered a simple plan, simply told in a spirit of love. “Find a Bible. Find a church. Find Jesus.” Ben picked up the soap box to take to the nearest business where it might belong. He felt invigorated and strode off to tour the area, unconcerned whether he planted seeds of faith, or watered seeds planted by others. +++ Ben saw two immediate objectives: somewhere to live, and a ministry. He was careful, though, not to manufacture a ministry himself, but to wait on the leading of the Holy Spirit, to follow his calling. Without a map, or particular direction, he began wandering the city, stopping at every church he found to inquire about a boarding house, preferring those accommodations to a hotel. Again, though, he sought God’s will, not his own. The churches were nearly all locked. Where he found parsonages, they were also locked. The few where he saw people, he found cold shoulders. After crossing a small river on Harrison Street Ben was confronted by three black-haired, obvious ne’er do-wells. “You walk like you’re somebody, or you have money. Which is it?” the leader charged, his two comrades into Ben’s space on either side of him. “Well, now, friend, whether I am somebody, or I have money, is between me and my savior.” Ben focused on the speaker’s eyes, ignoring the other two. The man spoke with an accent that could have been Spanish, though by appearances, Ben guessed Italian. Suddenly, the speaker flashed and slashed the air between them with what Ben considered a cross between a tiny sword and an ice pick. Ben stepped into the rippling air cut by the action. The man again slashed across, back, and across again. Nothing happened. Ben didn’t flinch. The man took a half step back and examined his stiletto. It was dry of blood and a quick glance revealed Ben’s shirt uncut. “My name’s Ben. And you have answered my question. Right on this very spot tomorrow after breakfast I’ll be preaching God’s gospel. I’m inviting you and your friends to come and hear about my savior’s love.” Ben stuck out his hand, “Ben Persons. And you are?” The man squinted as he peered into Ben’s gaze, nodding to his two friends, they all three turned and walked away wordlessly. Looking about, imagining tomorrow’s crowd of listeners, Ben saw a youth who’d been standing nearby, watching the goings on. “My name’s Ben,” Ben said loud enough to be heard across the street. “Heard you say that to La Lama. Are you crazy? You know, touched?” The boy of about twelve shook his head side-to-side in an exaggerated fashion. Ben laughed. “No, at least I don’t think so. What’s your name? And do you know where I could rent a room?” “I’m Tony. Olive, or somethin’. She’s the old woman who lives across the street from my house rents a room. But I think somebody’s in it.” “Well, let’s go find out, Tony. But why aren’t you in school? And what is La Lama?” “School’s out for the summer. La Lama is The Blade. I’m supposed to be working at the mill, but I told Ma I wanted to work at the stockyard. But they wouldn’t hire me.” “How hard did you try?” Ben asked, a knowing smile on his face. Tony burst out laughing. “Sir, my pa is black-balled. Would you hire me?” Tony delivered his speech as he had every hiring agent he encountered. He returned Ben’s grin. “Works every time, I imagine,” Ben said. Tony’s eyes twinkled. “How much you expect to get paid if you were to work at the mill?” “Supposed to be fifty cents a day for spool work, but then they dock you for your gloves and for bathroom breaks that you don’t even take. Yer lucky to take home two dollars a week.” “How would you like to work for me for four dollars a week?” Tony furrowed his brow for an instant. “I ain’t gonna get cut up by La Lama, am I?” Ben laughed. “Let’s go see about that room and if your mother will agree.”
|
| ©
Copyright 2024.
Wayne Fowler
All rights reserved. Wayne Fowler has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |