On July 22nd I was en route
to Washington, DC for a business trip. It was all so very
ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As
I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was
made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative
immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave
the plane, and I heard a gentleman asking every male if they were Mr. Glenn.
At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk. When I got
off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr.
Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the
emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so
you can call the hospital." My heart was now pounding, but the will to be
calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone
where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital.
My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my
three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door
for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR
had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had
continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.
By the time of my call,
Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not
know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They
explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right
over his heart. He had been severely crushed.
After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not
hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness. The return flight
seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours
after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the
intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little
son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors
everywhere. He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and
tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream.
I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian
was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart
was OK, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would
tell if his brain received any damage.
Throughout the seemingly
endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually
be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All
that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like
forever since I had left for my business trip the day before. Finally
at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat
up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said,
"Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his little arms.
By the next day he was
pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the
story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You
cannot imagine when we took Brian home, we felt a unique
reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to
those who brush death so closely.
In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home.
Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My
wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very
close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace.
Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain
and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly
profound.
The story is not over!
Almost a month later to the
day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said,
"Sit down Mommy. I have something to tell you." At this time
in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large
sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed, and
he began his sacred and remarkable story.
"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was
so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn't hear
me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the 'birdies'
came." "The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.
"Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound
and flew into the garage. They took care of me."
"They did?"
"Yes," he said.
"one of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck
under the door." A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit
was so strong strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a
three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to
the beings who came to him from beyond as
"birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.
"What did the birdies
look like?" she asked. Brian answered, "They were so
beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green
and white. But some of them had on just white."
"Did they say anything?"
"Yes," he
answered. "They told me the baby would be all right."
The baby?" my wife
asked confused.
Brian answered. "The
baby laying on the garage floor." he went on, You came
out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to
stay and not leave."
My wife nearly collapsed
upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian's
body and seeing his crushed chest whispered, "Don't leave us
Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian telling her
the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body
and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.
"Then what
happened?" she asked..
"We went
on a trip." he said, "Far, far away." He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My
wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay.
He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult. "We flew so fast
up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added. "And there are lots
lots and
lots of birdies." My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting
spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before
known.
Brian went on
to tell her that the "birdies" had told him that he had to come
back and tell everyone about the "birdies."
He said they brought him
back to the house and that a big fire truck and an ambulance were there. A man
was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that
the baby would be okay, but the man couldn't hear him. He said the birdies
told him he had to go with the ambulance, but they would be near him.
He said they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn't want to come
back. Then the bright light came. He said that the light was so
bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much.
Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him, and
told him, "I love you but you have to go back. You have to
play baseball, and tell everyone about the birdies. "Then the
person in the bright light kissed him and waved bye-bye. Then woosh, the big
sound came and they went into the clouds.
The story went on for an
hour. He taught us that "birdies" were always with us, but we
don't see them because we look with our eyes and we don't hear them
because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you
can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart).
They whisper the things
to help us to do what is right because they love us so much. Brian continued,
stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone
has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies
help us to do that cause they love us so much."
In the weeks that followed,
he often came to us and told all or part of it, again and again. Always
the story remained the same. The details were never changed
or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and
clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze
us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked
about his birdies. Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies."
Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this.
Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled.
Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I
pray we never will be. An Angel to Watch over You Some people come into
our lives and quickly go... Some people become friends and stay a
while... leaving beautiful footprints on our hearts and we are
never quite the same because we have made a good friend!!
