A Dad Story's (10/11/12)

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 he 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, 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

"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.
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.

You have just been sent an Angel to watch over you. Some people come into
our lives and quickly go...Some people become friends and stay a
while...leaving beautiful footprints on our hearts .. and we are never
quite the same because we have made a good friend!!

Yesterday is history. Tomorrow a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why
it's called the present! Live and savor every moment...this is not a