THE BIRDIES

by Lloyd Glenn

On July 22nd, I was in route to Washington DC for a business trip. It was all very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead locker, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Rep immediately.

I thought nothing more about it until I was ready to leave the plane and at the doorway, I heard a man asking every male if he were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was very wrong and my heart sank.

When I got off the plane, a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr.Glenn, there was an emergency at your home. I don't know what the emergency is, or who was involved, but I'll take you to a phone so you can call the hospital."

My heart was pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed the stranger to a phone where I dialed the number he gave me for Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son, Brian, had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door in my garage for several minutes and when my wife 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 didn't 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 for seeing my small son lying so still on the great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was also 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. Only time would tell if his brain had received any damage.

Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt Brian would be all right and I hung onto her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I left on my business trip the day before.

Finally, at two o'clock that afternoon, Brian regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard ... he said, "Daddy hold me," and he reached for me with his little arms.

By the next day, doctors told us he would have no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. When we took Brian home, we felt such a renewed reverence for life and love that only 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 closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were tighter as a family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused and balance was easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed and our gratitude was profound.

But our story is not over ... almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian woke up from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down Mommy. I have something to tell you." Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat with him on his bed, and he began his remarkable story.

"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was heavy and it hurt really bad. I called you but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but that hurt too bad, and then the birdies came."

"The birdies?" my wife asked
.
"Yes," he answered. "The birdies made a whoosh sound and flew in the garage to take care of me."

"They did?"

"Yes," he said. "One of the birdies went to get you. She told you I got stuck under the door." A reverent feeling filled the room. The feeling was strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death or spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came from beyond as 'birdies' because they had come from up in the air like birds that fly.

"What did the birdies look like?" she asked.

Brian answered, "They were beautiful and dressed in white, all white. Some had green and white, but most 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 him to stay and not leave."

My wife nearly collapsed, for she had indeed knelt beside Brian's body and whispered, "Don't leave us, Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian telling her what she had said, she realized his spirit had left his body and it was looking down from above. "Then what happened?" she asked.

"We went on a trip," he said, "far, far away." He struggled with wanting to tell something very important to him, but finding the words was difficult for him. My wife told him it would be okay.

"We flew fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy, and there are lots and lots of birdies!" My wife was stunned. A sweet comforting spirit enveloped her soundly, but with an urgency she had never known. Brian went on to explain that the birdies told him he had to come back and tell everyone about the birdies. When they brought Brian back to the house, he saw the big fire truck and ambulance. He said a man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man the baby would be okay. The story went on for an hour ...

Brian taught us that 'birdies' are always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes. We don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always here with us -- we can only see them and hear them here (he put his hand over his heart). "They whisper things to help us do what is right because they love us so much." Brian continued, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We all have to live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us 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 was the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added other bits of information he had remembered or clarified something he had already told us. It never ceased to amaze us how he could share these details and speak way beyond his ability when he talked about the 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've never been the same since that day ... and I pray we never will be.


My thanks to Lloyd Glenn and his family for sharing their story.
Always,
CJ - Namaste!