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 can imagine how relieved we felt as we brought
Brian home. We also 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 3 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,
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.
Needles to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we
never will be.
Luke 4:10 (kjv) For it is written, He shall give his angels
charge over thee, to keep thee:
NIV: For it is
written: “‘He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully;
Ken Reuer, Burning Bush Crusades, Wetaskiwin, AB
