>Hi, My name is Vanita Nelson. I am in the Kansas City area. I happened to
>miss the original posting on Soomething Special. Could you please send it
to
>me. It sounds like it is really neat. I would sure appreciate it. Thanks
>Vanita
>
Dear Vanita, Sure! Here it is,
love,
Marsha
This is 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 enroute 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 onto 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.
--
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