A man walked into the living room with the same expression husbands get when they’ve been sent to the store for “one thing” and forgot it. “John had a wreck. He’s in the hospital. His wife is asking everyone in the church to pray,” he announced.

His wife froze mid‑laundry‑fold as if someone had just unplugged her from the wall. “Is he okay?” she asked. The man blinked. “John had a wreck. He’s in the hospital. His wife is asking everyone in the church to pray.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How did the accident happen?” He nodded solemnly, as if she had just asked a very wise question. “John had a wreck. He’s in the hospital. His wife is asking everyone in the church to pray.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Was there anyone else in the car with him?” He took a deep breath, preparing his entire vocabulary. “John had a wreck. He’s in the hospital. His wife is asking everyone in the church to pray.”

At this point, she stared at him like he was a malfunctioning Alexa device. “Do you know anything else?” she demanded. He shrugged. “That’s all I got. I’m basically the voicemail notification.” She sighed, grabbed her phone, and said, “I’ll call someone who actually knows something.” He nodded again, relieved. “Good idea. Because all Iknow is,” she cut him off. “If you say it again, I’m unplugging you!” He raised his hands in surrender. “Message received.”

But under his breath, barely audible, he whispered:
“John had a wreck. He’s in the hospital. His wife is asking everyone in the church to pray.”