THE
BIRDIES
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 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 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 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.
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 alright." "The
baby?" my wife asked confused. And 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
unrecognizable features, knowing he was
already dead, she looked up
around her and whispered, "Don't
leave us Brian, please s tay 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 the 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.
This is a true story that occurred in
1994
and was told by Lloyd Glen.
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