I couldn’t wait to decorate for Christmas. This year, in addition to our big family tree, I wanted a smaller one decorated entirely with angels.
I could see it in my mind as I browsed at the Christmas aisles of my favorite department store. A blue spruce strung with little white lights, just like the trees of my German childhood, with a white cotton cloth underneath to simulate snow.
I was admiring the angel tree toppers when I ran into my friend Fran. “I tried to call you earlier,” I said. “How is Ralph?”
Fran explained that her husband was at home resting after his hospital stay. “We have an appointment at the National Institutes of Health the day after tomorrow,” she said. “Things don’t look good for Ralph.”
“Come to our house for lunch tomorrow,” I said. “Ed would love to see him.”
“I think that’s just what Ralph needs.”
But when Fran and Ralph arrived the next day, Ralph had something more important on his mind than lunch. “Ed, you ever have a PSA test? It checks your prostate gland.”
“Never heard of it,” Ed said. “I’ll remember it if I don’t feel well…”
“Don’t wait until then,” Ralph said seriously. “The benefit of this test is that it can detect a problem early. I don’t know how things are going to turn out for me, but I want to inform every older man I know. Promise me you’ll get the test.”
“I’ll ask my doctor,” said Ed.
I thought that would be the end of it, but Ralph was relentless. Ed promised to make an appointment for the test. “I guess I should be flattered that you care about me so much!” he said as the two shook hands before Ralph left. “I’ll call the doctor tomorrow. Count on it.”
Always a man of his word, Ed made that doctor’s appointment. We thought he was just keeping a promise to a friend. But the test results indicated a problem. After more tests Ed was diagnosed with prostate cancer. “It’s got an extremely aggressive cell structure,” the doctor warned us as we sat in his office, stunned. “That means every second counts.” I thanked God for Ralph. Even in a fight for his own life, he was concerned for his friends.
Ed was scheduled for surgery right after the holidays. The shadow of it hung over all our Christmas preparations. It was hard to enjoy anything when I didn’t know if Ed would be all right. Still, we got two trees: a full-sized pine and a smaller blue spruce.
Back home I set up the little tree in the corner and decorated it with lights and icicles. One by one I hung angel ornaments from its branches, breathing in the comforting, piney smell. Ed needs at least this many angels this Christmas, I thought as I reached into the box of ornaments. And of course, there was our dear friend Ralph, whose battle was nearing an end.
Our three sons and their families visited for Christmas. The house was so filled with family and angels Ed’s condition didn’t seem real. When I looked at the grandchildren playing with their toys or my daughter-in-law who was expecting a new baby soon, I saw the promise of new life.
All too soon Christmas was over. Then New Year’s. I left the angel tree up in the corner. I couldn’t bear to take it down. I still needed all the angels I could get and was too busy to worry about it, what with Ed’s trips to the doctor to see if the cancer had metastasized.
Days went by without my even remembering to look at the angel tree in the living room, much less water it. The scent of pine that I found so comforting had long since disappeared.
One afternoon at the end of January a couple of friends, Sally and Paz, came to visit. As we chatted in the living room, one of them reached out to touch the tips of the branches. My eyes followed her fingers to the near-forgotten angels, the white lights and icicles, the…
“What’s that?” I said, going over to look. I could have sworn I saw a spot of bright green at the end of the branch. I examined it closely.
“It’s a new shoot!” said Paz. “Sprouting out of the branch.”
“There’s more over here,” said Sally, peering round the other side.
The green shoots were everywhere. It was as if the neglected tree was suddenly bursting with new life. “But how is that possible?” I said. Had the shoots been growing all this time while I was too worried about Ed to notice? Or had they sprung up suddenly like a message?
“The tree has new life,” said Paz. “Like we hope Ed will have too.” When everyone left I sat down beside the angel tree. Is it really a sign, God? I wondered. I caught the faintest scent of pine on the air.
Ed’s tests were encouraging. The cancer had not metastasized. A radical surgery might indeed remove it all. On February 19, when we left for the hospital, the angel tree was bright as ever, still sprouting fresh green shoots from every branch. I tried to picture it in my mind as I sat with my sons in the waiting room during surgery.
Finally the doctor came out to see us. He believed the operation was a success. With Ed safely in recovery I returned home to rest. When I walked into the house the scent from the little spruce was stronger than ever.
Closing my eyes and breathing it in, I almost felt like I was back in the Black Forest of my childhood surrounded by the giant trees. How could a small tree produce such fragrance? Only the angels knew. I drifted to sleep on the couch beside the tree, the little white lights seeming to warm me all over.
The angel tree continued to sprout shoots for another week, until the day Ed returned home from the hospital—the same day our new granddaughter was born. After that the green tips turned brown. The needles fell and scattered on the cloth beneath the tree. The pine smell disappeared. I took the ornaments off and laid them in their boxes until next year. The promise of the angel tree had seen us through.
