On July 22nd I was en route to Washington, DC for a
business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until
Landing 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 go ing 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.
[TEAR BREAK...smile]
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 (smile)! 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 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 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 whoosh, 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
habits 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment