Touched by an Angel
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 contact the hospital." My heart
was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over.
Willingly, 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.
The story is not over!
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 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, 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 swoosh, 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 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.
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 dress rehearsal!
(\ /)
( \ _ / )
( \( )/ )
( /<\ ) TAKE THIS LITTLE ANGEL
( / \/\ ) AND KEEP HER CLOSE TO YOU
/ \ SHE IS YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL
( ) SENT TO WATCH OVER YOU