It was a big storm. The television showed weather updates. The radar looked like red-and-yellow vomit.

“Find shelter!” the weather guy kept saying. “There’s a tornado on the ground in Calera!”

I texted my friend in Calera.

“You okay?” I texted.

“We’re good. But you should hear it outside. Pray.”

Pray, he said.

As I write this, 34 are dead across Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Texas, and Mississippi. Maybe more by the time you read my words.

Who knows how many are injured. Who knows how many are missing. Who knows how many are waiting to be found. Who knows how many hundreds of thousands are without power.

Pray.

Well, I have been praying. And I really mean that. As in: I have physically folded my hands, closed my eyes, said amen, and everything.

This might not sound like a big deal, saying a simple prayer. But for me, it is a big deal. Namely, because when I was younger I used to tell people I’d pray for them and never actually do it.

“I’ll pray for you” was just something my people said.

It’s not that I didn’t feel compassion for others, I did. But this phrase was purely verbal reflex. The words popped out before you could call them back. You were just required to say them.

If you DIDN’T tell someone you were praying for them, you were a big fat jerk who was probably a communist and added sugar to your deviled eggs.

I can’t tell you how many people throughout my life I said I’d pray for, and yet I never even uttered a word on their behalf. Heaven only knows why I didn’t.

What was I so busy doing? It takes, what, a minute or two to say a sincere prayer? I’ve spent more time picking belly button lint.

Was I THAT preoccupied? I couldn’t reserve one minute out of my bustling day to offer up a heartfelt request for someone who needed help?

Prayer works, you know. I’ve seen it work. So have you—whether you admit it or not. When lots of people pray for one specific thing; for one specific person; for one specific outcome; good things happen. It’s not always the good thing you wanted, but it happens nonetheless.

I’ve seen children healed. I’ve seen cancer disappear. I’ve seen sick people practically return from the dead.

And I’m talking about real people. With real names. Who defied real odds, and disproved real scientific explanations, simply because of prayer.

Prayer always, always works. And, believe me, I always avoid alliteration.

Except when it comes to prayer. For there has never been a time in my life when prayer didn’t either change my situation, or instead change me.

So if you’re reading this, and you’re within the storm’s affected areas, and you have phone service enough to see these feeble words, please know that I no longer use them lightly:

I’m praying for you.