"Birdies"
Sunday, September 6, 1998
(Thanks to Bill Dewey for forwarding us this great story. It is reportedly
a true story that occurred in 1994 and was told by Lloyd Glen.)
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 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 the baby would be okay, but the man couldn't
hear him. Brian 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. 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.
