RichardBejah.com: A DAD'S STORY

Today's TOPIC

"Taking TIME to do DOUBLE CHECK."

BreakThru GENERATION

Daily Quote:- "In the name of that which implants in the seed the future of the tree and in the hearts of humanity the longing for people living in neighborly love;

In the name of the highest, in whom we move and who makes the mother, the father, brother, and the sister what they are;

In the name of sages and great religious leaders, who sacrificed their lives to hasten the coming of the kingdom of peace and justice;

Let us renew our resolution sincerely to be real brothers and sisters regardless of any kind of barrier which estranges person from person.

In this holy resolution may we be strengthened, knowing that we are one family; that one spirit, the spirit of love, unites us; and that our work together for a more perfect and more joyful life leads us on." ~ Norbert Capek

A DAD' S STORY

On July 22nd I was in 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 G..... 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 he were Mr. G....

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.G...., 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, when 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 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."

"Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the
garage. They took care of me."

"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."

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

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.

Everyone has an Angel to watch over them. 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!

Author ~ Unknown

*The full quote often reads: "The clock is running. Make the most of today. Time waits for no man. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it is called the present."

In the 1902 book, "Sun Dials and Roses of Yesterday: Garden Delights..." by Alice Morse Earle, it is noted that the words "Time Waits for No Man" is a play on words or punning device of "gnomon" that has been used on sun dials. A gnomon is a pointer on a sun dial. Somewhere along the way came the full quote which has been truncated by some to your version.

http://books.google.com/books?id=puICAAA…

Many believe the phrase has its root in "Time and Tide wait for No Man," meaning no one is so powerful that he can stop the march of time.

According to "The Phrase Finder":

The origin is uncertain, although it's clear that the phrase is ancient and that it predates modern English. The earliest known record is from St. Marher, 1225:

"And te tide and te time þat tu iboren were, schal beon iblescet."

A version in modern English -- "the tide abides for, tarrieth for no man, stays no man, tide nor time tarrieth no man" evolved into the present day version.

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/38400…

Nowhere is this sentiment more artfully expressed than in Emily Dickinson's poem #1292, "Yesterday is History."

Yesterday is History,
'tis so far away --
yesterday is Poetry,
'tis Philosophy --

Yesterday is Mystery --
Where it is today --
While we shrewdly speculate
Flutter both away

*Source