A Multitude of Angels

When my doctor told me that my pregnancy was in jeopardy, and I’d have to spend the last four months of it confined to bed, I was terrified of losing my baby.

Then I wondered: How will I care for my four-year old son, Parker, and myself when my husband, Chris, is at work?

I shouldn’t have worried. Within days, my friends and church family organized a small army of volunteers to provide physical, emotional and spiritual support.

Chris prepared me breakfast and snacks every morning before leaving with Parker. A neighbor picked Parker up from preschool and brought him home, kept my house spotless and gave me twice-weekly leg and foot massages to reduce my chances of getting blood clots. Every night a hot meal arrived for us.

A close friend, a neonatal intensive care nurse, called frequently to give me pep talks. Another friend supplied me with taped Norman Vincent Peale sermons to keep me focused and hopeful.

By God’s grace I made it past the seventh month of my pregnancy. My baby boy was born just six-and-a-half weeks premature and was only in the NICU for 10 days.

When our pastor held him up in front of the congregation during his baptism, I felt as though he belonged to my church family and friends as much as he did to us.