A TRUE STORY WITH A HAPPY ENDING ... AND A GIFT.

 This is a true story that occurred in 1994 and told by Lloyd Glenn.

 On July 22nd I was en 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 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.  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.