Throughout our
lives we
are blessed
with spiritual
experiences, some of which are very
sacred and
confidential, and others, although
sacred, are meant
to be shared. Last summer my family had
a spiritual
experience that had a lasting and
profound impact on
us, one we feel must be shared. It's a
message of
love. It's a message of regaining
perspective, and
restoring proper
balance and renewing priorities.
In
humility. I pray
that I might, in relating this story,
give you a
gift my little son, Brian, gave our
family one
summer day last year.
On July 22 I was in 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 traumab 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.
[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
our gratitude and joy.
As 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. And
Brian answered, "The baby lying
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 and unrecognizable features,
knowing he was
already dead, she looked up around her
and 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 is 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 he baby would be
okay, but the
man couldn't hear him. He said,
"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. And 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 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 spoke of
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 get 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.