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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.
Its 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 22nd 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 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 they 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 when my wife had found him, he was dead.
CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the
paramedics 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 was done to his
brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely
closed to 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 our gratitude and joy. As we took Brian 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. The 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 incident, 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 wouldn'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 alright." "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 and recognizable
features, knowing he was already dead, she looked up round 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 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 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.
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