The Birdies
(get out the tissues for this one)

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.

A neighbor, who is a doctor, had performed CPR, 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 lying 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 nero-logical 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 badly. 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 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 parts
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. Every-
where 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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