by Krista Ralston Oakes
As I prepared to leave the house, the phone rang. It was our ward Relief Society president.

“Fine…” I replied, when she asked how I was doing.

Something told her I wasn’t fine, so she persisted. I finally admitted that I had just been diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I had an appointment with a neurosurgeon to discuss surgery. We talked for a moment, and then she got very quiet. “You know, your visiting teacher had a brain tumor several years ago,” she said.

My inspired Relief Society President was the first angel. My faithful and understanding visiting teacher was the next. Drawing from her own experience, she was generous with practical advice and emotional support. Before long, I learned that they weren’t alone.
Our entire ward was filled with angels equipped to meet a sudden and difficult challenge in our family.

We had a new home, and unopened boxes were still in the garage. We had a new daughter who was not yet six months old. Our son was four years old, and attended speech therapy twice a week. Christmas was approaching when our world turned upside-down.

I was scheduled for neurosurgery on December 12. During the weeks and months that followed, many of my activities were severely restricted. I was not allowed to lift my daughter from her crib. I could not drive. I could not climb stairs. Because of the risk of falls or seizures, I could not be home without another adult present. Meanwhile, we faced an additional challenge: the pathology report determined that my tumor was malignant and highly aggressive. Chemotherapy, radiation treatments, and follow-up tests entered into our routine.

The angels were ready. Angels in our family did all that they could, and the angels in our ward filled in the rest: Daily companionship and childcare when my husband was at work. Transportation to speech therapy and medical appointments. Delicious, healthy meals. Numberless household tasks, and more.

Every week our compassionate service leader (I called her “the Captain of the Angels”) contacted me and assessed our needs, and prepared a sign-up sheet that would circulate on Sundays. I served in the Primary, and didn’t see this first-hand, but I was told that when the clipboard came out in Relief Society, “You’d think there was money attached to it, the way the sisters would fight over it!” The Captain of the Angels would contact me on Sunday evenings with a schedule of angels assigned to each need. It was always accompanied by a “waiting list” of back-up angels who still wanted to help after the assignments were filled.

Angels don’t often wait for an assignment. I would frequently receive phone calls from angels who sensed other needs:

“I’m running errands today – can I run some for you, or bring you along with me?”

“Let’s go to the temple together Friday morning!”

“I made extra fudge and thought you’d enjoy it.”

One angel had her own house cleaning business, and without being asked (or accepting payment) came to our house once a month—for an entire year—to scour our bathrooms. (She heard that I was undergoing chemotherapy and needed to avoid germs.) Another angel showed up after the holidays to take down the Christmas tree and carefully pack all of our decorations. She left with two hampers full of laundry, and returned the next day with clean, folded, and organized clothes.

Meanwhile, the youth in our ward became angels-in-training. The young women showed up one evening, bearing freezer meals and cookies, and they didn’t leave until they had organized some kitchen cabinets that I couldn’t reach. Many volunteered babysitting and mother’s helper services. Young men helped my husband with yard work and the boxes in the garage. The Primary made posters and cards, and distracted our children with friendship.

In time I regained my independence, and the angels were released to other good deeds. However, their love and prayers continued to sustain me.

When tests confirmed that I was stable enough to “graduate” from chemotherapy, the Relief Society presidency scheduled a visit the following day. When they arrived, I noticed others joining them. The angels who had lovingly carried my burdens had returned – this time carrying balloons, flowers, and desserts into my home for a spontaneous celebration. Those who mourned with me when I mourned, and comforted me when I stood in need of comfort (Mosiah 18:9), were there to rejoice with me as I rejoiced.

Then the day came when The Captain of the Angels called again. This time she had an errand for me, to help someone in need. I gave a tearful prayer of gratitude for the opportunity to join the throng!