Aldersgate Men

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Thoughts and Prayers for a Friend...

I know a lot of you have enjoyed Michael's blog in the past. I read it today and could not believe what I saw. He tried to save a young man who was shot in a gang-related act of violence. My thoughts and prayers go out to him, and to the family and friends of the young man. Details are still unfolding, but you can READ ABOUT IT HERE.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Child of God

Someone asked me to post Randy's eulogy for his three-year-old son, Drew Michael Taylor, so here it is. Thank you so much for your prayers for Randy and his family. They are very much appreciated. You can also find out more about the Drew Michael Taylor Foundation by visiting the website.


Drew Michael Taylor, son of Randy and Marcie Taylor, was killed June 13, 2006 when a logging truck crashed into the van in which he rode with his family while on vacation in the Outer Banks, North Carolina. He was 3 ½ years old. His father gave this eulogy at his funeral.


During the past 19 days, I have been asked two types of questions. One has to do with health: how is Marcie, how is your back, are you guys okay? The second has to do with help: is there anything I can do for you, is there anything you need? Last Sunday, as I was standing in her dining room, Susan Berrier asked me these questions: “Randy, what have you learned from this tragedy and what lessons can you share with me?” For the past week I’ve been thinking about her questions. I’m a teacher and a coach. This is my most valuable lesson. This is what I’ve learned.

I am reminded that I have a wonderful extended family. The Taylors. The McClures. The Ditzlers. The Walters. The Bentivoglios. The Podas. They’re good, solid people. Thank you for your love and support. I think it was 30 years ago this summer that my Aunt Betty took me to Florida on vacation with her family. You treated me like I was your own son. You really took care of me and thirty years later you still are.

I’ve only seen my cousin, Jon Taylor, who now lives with his wonderful family in San Diego three times in 15 years, but when he learned of this tragedy he dropped everything to help me out. Thank you, Jon.

We call John Bentivoglio Marcie’s cousin, but he is actually Marcie’s mom’s cousin. John is an attorney in Washington D.C. He has been so great to us that I almost regret all of those lawyer jokes. John, you moved us along in the right direction so that we weren’t trampled by the ambulance chasers. I don’t know how I can ever repay you. Especially since you charge $500 an hour.

This tragedy reminded me of all of reasons why Marcie and I decided to raise our family in a small town. The car washes, the pool parties, the birthday party for my daughter, Lauren, the local EMT’s, the donations, the food, the flowers, the pictures, the videos, the cards, the visits, the phone calls, the lawn mowing, the dog sitting, the building of ramps, the e-mails, the prayers, and The Randy and Marcie Taylor Fund at Orrstown Bank. This community’s outpouring of love and support has been overwhelming. Thank you.

This tragedy reminded me why we decided to join Messiah United Methodist Church. God’s people worship here. To Pastor Troy Howell, all I can say is thank you, I love you, and I will be forever grateful for the things that you have done for my family.

Another very important lesson that I learned is that there are great people out there who are willing to give so much of themselves to help total strangers. Like the hero who was the first person to arrive at the accident and said, “I’m an EMT from Butler, Pennsylvania. I’m here to help.” The fire fighter who gave me a blue towel to clean myself up and to wipe away the tears. The flight nurse who stayed with me hours after his shift was over to hug me and tell me how sorry he was for my loss. Marcie’s nurse, who gave us her cell phone the night of the accident and said, “keep it. I’ll come back for it in a day or two.” The members of Colonial Heights United Church of Christ in Norfolk, who learned about us via e-mail from a church secretary in Indiana.

Members of their congregation visited with us every day. Total strangers. They prayed with us, cried with us, and gave us communion. They were absolutely amazing.

I’ll never forget the Chaplains at Norfolk hospital: Gina, Michael, and Bennie.

Every Sunday Pastor Troy prays for the Chaplains. Now I understand why. Put yourself in their position: It’s a beautiful Tuesday morning around 11:00 a.m. A call comes in that a three-year-old boy is arriving shortly in critical condition. His father is with him. You see the helicopter land. The father gets out first. He has on one flip-flop, a pair of swimming trunks, a Scotland Basketball shirt, and a pair of sunglasses resting on his head. The father kisses his son on the cheek and says, “I love you” as the 3 year old is brought into the ER. You then take the father to a conference room.

What do you say?

To be honest, I don’t remember what Gina said, but I thank God for her. She was so comforting. I remember we did a lot of praying. We spoke many times in the hospital while we waited for Marcie to recover from her injuries. Gina told me that when I ran into the ER with Drew that she could tell that I was a doer. So she kept asking me what I needed to do. Who did I need to call? After about an hour with Gina, another Chaplin named Michael, spent about two hours with me. He took me to the trauma floor to wait for Drew to come out of surgery. He gave me a Gideon’s Bible. Once again, I don’t remember what we talked about. I just kept walking from one end of the small conference room to the other. Michael was sitting on a chair not saying much. But there really wasn’t anything to say. His presence was very reassuring.

After surgery, Drew was taken to the Children’s Hospital of the King’s Daughters. It was there that I met Bennie, a tall black man in his 50’s with a soothing voice. Bennie is the chaplain for the Children’s Hospital and it was Bennie who asked me if Drew had been baptized. For ten hours, I hugged, cried, and prayed with those three Chaplains. They received the full flood of my emotions. Me. Randy Taylor. A total stranger. They do, what Jesus did. They sacrifice themselves for others.

I learned that even though I’ve spent 19 days in Hell. I need to be thankful.

I have an incredible wife, a beautiful seven-year-old girl. And I had Drew. After Drew passed away at the Children’s Hospital of the King’s Daughters, Marcie and I were taken back to the ER. I showered, changed my clothes, and began to receive treatment for the broken bones in my back. After an hour or so, Lauren arrived with Shirley, Carrie, and Tim. Lauren asked me where Drew was and if he was okay. I told her that I would take her to where Drew was. We were then taken back to the Children’s Hospital so that Shirley and Carrie could see Drew. Lauren went with Tim and some counselors to a children’s play room. I spoke to a couple of counselors about how to tell Lauren about Drew. They told me that she would take her cue from me. She’ll react based upon how I act. So I went to a bathroom and threw water on my face and prayed to God for strength. I told God that this was the most important moment of my life and please don’t let me screw it up. I walked to the playroom and asked everyone to leave me alone with Lauren. I felt a calm come over me as I began to talk to her. I told Lauren that Drew had been hurt really bad in the accident and that the doctors and nurses had done all that they could to save him, but Drew was now in Heaven. His body was still here on earth, but his soul was with the angels. Lauren began to cry. We hugged. Then she asked me, “ Can we get another one?” We talked for a while. Then she drew this picture. [Randy holds up a picture of a dog getting blamed for the cat peeing, explaining that the family had just gotten its first dog and it frequently had “accidents.”

The day after the accident I watched Lauren closely to see how she was doing. At some point in the morning, she came up to me and said that she wanted to call Mrs. Behrenshausen, her first grade teacher. When I asked her why she wanted to call Mrs. Behrenshausen, she said that she wanted to tell her about Drew. She wanted to tell her so that Mrs. Behrenshausen wouldn’t find out on the first day of school and cry in front of her new students.

Anyone who knows Marcie knows that a great word to describe her would be selfless. She is always thinking about others before herself, whether it’s organizing a variety show to benefit the Tim and Sue Cook Scholarship at Chambersburg or organizing a concert to help Justin Wolford’s family as he has a stem cell transplant. I’d like to tell you a story about the most selfless act I have ever witnessed. As I was waiting for Drew to come out of surgery I had been given word that Marcie was being airlifted to Norfolk Hospital. When I was told that Drew was not going to make it, I asked the doctors if they would be able to keep Drew alive until Marcie arrived. I told them that her kids were her life, and that she wouldn’t be able to cope if she could not see Drew before he died. The doctors assured me that they could keep Drew alive until Marcie arrived. As they wheeled Marcie in on a stretcher I could see that she was in a lot of pain. She could see in my face that things had not gone well for Drew. The doctor told her the same thing that he had told me: Drew had suffered catastrophic brain damage and there was nothing they could do for him. At that point, all of the oxygen seemed to leave Marcie’s body. It was as if she had been punched in the stomach.

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Exhaled.

Then Marcie asked the doctors if they could donate any of Drew’s organs. They told her that because of the severity of Drew’s injuries that it was doubtful that they could use his organs. Marcie asked a second time. She said that Drew had to be able to help somebody else. That it would be the only way that she could make sense of this tragedy. It was the most courageous thing I have ever seen in my life. Even though Marcie was walking in the valley of the shadow of death, she was thinking about helping others. The doctors told us that they could keep Drew alive with machines if we wanted. Marcie and I both said no, let him go peacefully, naturally, in our arms. So they unhooked Drew from the machines. They gave Drew to me, and I placed Drew on Marcie’s bed between the two of us. Pastor Troy called, they put him on speaker and we prayed. After he finished, everyone left the room but the three of us. We cried, prayed, and sang songs for Drew. After about twenty minutes, Drew went to be with his savior.

One of my favorite memories of Drew was his Baptism in May 2004. Pastor Troy does a great job with Baptisms, but Drew’s was really special. During the service, Troy began to walk around the sanctuary with Drew in his arms. He walked down the aisle and walked out the door to introduce Drew to the world. Troy was wearing a microphone so we could hear what he was saying. While outside, Troy and Drew encountered a man walking his dog. Troy introduced Drew to the man and said, “This is Drew Michael Taylor, a child of God. Drew was just baptized and I’m introducing him to the world.” The man, who Troy had never seen before the service or since, said “that’s great.” It was such a special ceremony. You could feel God at work that morning. I knew that God had a special plan for Drew.

Most of you probably never spoke to Drew. He was a shy kid, a mama’s boy. In fact, for about a year we were not able leave Drew in the nursery during worship service because he just cried and cried, wanting his mommy. Eventually, Drew grew to love coming to church. He loved playing with puzzles, and especially loved singing songs with Mrs. Holtry. In May of this year, our family was greeters at church. At first, Drew really didn’t like the job much. But as the month wore on, Drew loved shaking everyone’s hand and saying “Good Morning.”

Drew was really looking forward to going to the Outer Banks. For about a week leading up to our vacation Drew would ask, “Are we going to the beach today?” “I want to go to the beach.” “Go to the beach now.” At 5:30 AM on the morning of Sunday June 11, I was in my bathroom shaving, when Drew opened the door and asked, “Are we going to the beach today?” I said, “Yes Drew.” Drew replied, “Hoorah!”

We were on the road by 6AM.

It was just the two of us. Marcie, Lauren, Shirley, and our new puppy Trey were leaving after church. Drew slept from just south of Washington D.C. to North Carolina. When he woke up he asked, “Are we at the beach yet?” We arrived at our condo, and I wanted to unpack, but Drew wanted to go to the beach, so we took a trolley to the ocean. We played football in the ocean for an hour or two. I would throw the ball into the ocean. The waves would bring it back. Drew would get it and throw it back to me…over and over again.

Monday June 12 was overcast and dreary, so most of our activities were close to the condo. Drew and Lauren took a bubble bath together. Drew stood up in the tub, covered with bubbles, and said, “I look like a snow man.” We got in the hot tub as a family and had our picture taken for the last time. On Tuesday June 13 Drew woke us up at 5:30. He slept between Marcie and me and he was anxious to play. We had the condo to ourselves, just the three of us. Drew helped Marcie make an omelet and incredibly, Drew cracked four eggs using just one hand. He was his mother’s little Renaissance man. Drew and I then played dominoes as Marcie took Trey outside for a walk. She saw a beautiful sunrise and took a picture. Drew and I went outside. Our condo was beside a golf course, and there were people playing so Drew decided he wanted to play too. I went to the car to get my golf clubs and for the next hour we hit golf balls around the yard, played with Trey, and enjoyed each other’s company. I left to play basketball, and when I returned a couple of hours later everyone was anxious to get to the beach. The five of us waited for a trolley to take us to the ocean. The first trolley came by, but it was full. The driver said another one would be coming by in a few minutes. So we waited. Another trolley came by, but it was full as well. As we waited and waited for another trolley, a jogger and a cyclist passed by. Both said, “Good Morning.” We, of course, responded by saying, “Good Morning.” Drew said, “Hey, just like in church.”

Those were his last words.

When the third trolley never came, we decided to drive to the beach. After the logging truck hit us, I crawled in the backseat of the van with Drew, where I helped the EMT’s and paramedics. Drew was taken from the accident in an ambulance. I followed in a sheriff’s car. We went to a firehouse where we waited for the helicopter to arrive. I was loaded into the helicopter first and then Drew was loaded. We flew to Norfolk Hospital, where Drew was first treated in the emergency room, then the Trauma floor, where his surgery took place. We then went to the Children’s Hospital of the King’s Daughters. It was there that the surgeons told me that the surgery had not gone well. There were a lot of internal injuries and bleeding. They had removed his spleen and his small intestines. They were breathing for Drew. They told me to wait in the conference room until the pediatric surgeon arrived. I think I waited for about 15 or 20 minutes. The pediatric surgeon entered the room with a bad poker face. I knew what he was going to say. Drew had suffered catastrophic brain damage and there was really no hope of recovery. He asked me if I wanted to see Drew.

I entered a crowded room and there was my son. I cried and cried. Someone, I think it was either Gina or Bennie told me to talk to Drew. So for a couple of minutes I said, “I love you.” Over and over again. “I love you, Drew.” “I love you, Drew.” I read the 23rd Psalm and the Lord’s Prayer from the Gideon’s Bible that Michael had given me. I sang Amazing Grace. Then I began to sing Mrs. Holtry’s children’s songs, but I think I was screwing up the lyrics, so I just rested my head on Drew’s. I cried. Finally, I looked up at the medical people in the room and I began to introduce them to my son. I said, “This is Drew Michael Taylor, a child of God.” “This is Drew Michael Taylor, a child of God.”

Thousands, if not millions of people have reached out to my family during this tragedy. I understand from my cousin John that we are on prayer chains in India and Russia. Candles have been lit for my family in churches in Europe. Many people have asked if there is anything that they can do for my family. The answer is yes. There are three things that everyone can do for my family. First, please continue to pray for my family. We will never stop mourning for Drew. Not in a week, a month, a year, a decade or in a lifetime. We will have broken hearts until the day that we die. However, like Coach Pitino said, we will remain positive and live life to its fullest because we have to. Second, please pray for the driver of the truck who hit us. At some point, when I was in the van with Drew and all of this chaos was going on around me, I saw a face that didn’t belong. It was a man crying and saying over and over again “I’m so sorry.” “I’m so sorry.” I’m sure that was the driver of the lumber truck. Please pray for him. Third, you can support the Drew Michael Taylor Foundation. Like Marcie said at the Children’s Hospital, the only way that we can make sense of this tragedy is to know that Drew died in order to help others. I have never been more committed to anything in my life. We will honor Drew’s memory. We will create a foundation in his name, to help kids.

To answer Susan Berrier’s questions: “What have I learned?” and “What lessons can I share?” I’ve learned a lot. But the greatest lesson I learned is discovering the meaning of life. These thoughts are not my own. I learned them from Troy during a sermon a few months ago. To paraphrase Troy: we live in a high tech, fast-paced, complicated world. But when it comes right down to it, life is about three things, and three things only: The people you love…the people who love you…what you do for God. The people you love…the people who love you…what you do for God.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Upgrade Your Hybrid-Powered Vehicle

“Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”
- Beaver, Narnia

Hybrid vehicles are the rage while gas prices dance between $2 and $3 dollars. The ability to switch from gas-powered to electric-powered can save money and even the environment.

Our Christian walk is too often a ‘hybrid vehicle’, switching back and forth between ‘powered by Jesus’ and ‘powered by Me’. Our faith walk looks like a drive through the mountains: uphill, switch to ‘JESUS’; downhill, switch back to ‘ME’. Need to pass somebody: ME; idling at a stop-light: JESUS.

The imperfection of these human bodies means that we will always be tempted with ME power – Only Jesus perfected driving this human body on JESUS power. We strive to continually reduce the amount of ME power used.

The great irony is that we struggle to hold onto our ME power while the journeys we take on JESUS power are more satisfying, not only from an eternity perspective, but often from a here-and-now perspective as well.

And many have learned that running on JESUS power is like racing a jet against a scooter. We think we know the limitations of this world – Jesus’ time on earth showed us that we have no clue. We can continue to ride our safe scooter, slow and close to the ground. Or, we can choose His jet with Him as pilot. As the Beaver in Narnia tells us, “Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”

Choose this day to switch your power to JESUS, and strap in. You will learn to hate those scooter rides.

"No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.”
- Luke 16:13

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Caves & Rainbows

I jumped on my bike today thinking about my friend Rob who hasn't been able to ride much lately due to cancer and getting hit by a truck. My Sunday School verse accompanied me:
Hebrews 10:23 "Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who
promised is faithful."

As I made the turn at my halfway point, it started to downpour. While parts of me thought "How can I get home fastest", the rest of me was amazed that I was not only feeling the chill of the rain, but also the warmth of the sun, with bright rays shining on my side. Rather than dread a soggy ride home, I took it all in.

My 3rd-grader will tell you that when you have sun and rain, you have the ingredients for one of our earthly wonders: a rainbow. When I glanced left, sure enough there was a huge rainbow.

For the rest of my ride my mind processed everything that was going on: Rob, my verse, the rainbow.

While occasionally people think about the cleansing nature of rain, it is most often compared to bad things that happen. Few people want to 'be in the rain' (my U8 soccer team is an exception). The struggles that we encounter - like cancer, trucks, and many other things - are the downpours in our life.

As earthly men, we are taught by books like "Mars is for Men" that when men have problems, they head into their cave to solve their problems. This may get men out of the rain, but it is more often running away from the issues.

As Christian men, we know there will be struggles. Instead of heading into our caves, spurning our friends and family to solve our world's problems, we need to learn to 'hold unswervingly to the hope'. Is our faith just a hedge bet in case Heaven is real, or are we embracing the abundance He promises, regardless of the floods we might endure?

For me and my house, we will follow the example that my friend Rob has recently lived out: stand tall in the rain, with Christ's love and strength supporting us, shining bright through the rain. When we do that we become for others one of God's wonders on earth.

When we see someone wet and cold from the rain, yet smiling because of their hope in Christ's promises, they become a rainbow: a reminder of the promise, a reminder that with Christ we can stand in any downpour.

Thanks Rob for showing us the rainbow!

Friday, September 15, 2006

Encroachment: 5 Yard Penalty

The first time a football fan hears 'encroachment' they think, "they couldn't come up with a better word?". In football, the defense is allowed to cross over the line of scrimmage and go back before the snap as long as they don't touch the offense. They touch: 5-yard penalty for encroachment.

In Christian life, we are SUPPOSED TO encroach. Proverbs 27:17, "as iron sharpens iron".. We should embrace encroachment by another brother, just as we should be quick to encroach, especially when we see a brother in need or in peril. When we see a brother doing something that Christ probably wouldn't do, whether to us or to others, we should be encroaching on that activity. At the same time we should be prepared for a brother to 'get up in our grill' at times, even times we don't even realize we are out of line, times when we aren't out of line.

That does not mean we are going to enjoy the short-term pain it may cause, but we should be excited in the long-term strength it brings. Like lifting weights, right now, even tomorrow it hurts, but in two days we know there is greater strength.

I struggle with this, both as encroacher and encroachee. I need to stay focused on the long-term gain. I often shy away from the short-term pain, for myself, for my brother. If Christ avoided the short-term pain, we'd probably all be terrorists of some kind, forcing our way on others, or stepping on people to get our own way. Thankfully He did not, He took the short-term pain, focused on the long-term gain. His choice should embolden us to make the same choice.

So if you are on offense, embrace the encroachment, earned or not. Your brother's 'got your back', and the ball will be moved closer to the goal. If you are on defense and you think you see a violation on the offense, cause the encroachment, because in the end we're on the same team. Help your brother move that ball further down the field.

Friday, September 08, 2006

The Power of Prayer...

I am reading a book now called Bel Canto, by Ann Patchett, about a hostage takeover of a birthday party in South America.

According to Amazon:
In Ann Patchett's Bel Canto, an unnamed South American country, a world-renowned soprano sings at a birthday party in honour of a visiting Japanese industrial titan. Alas, in the opening sequence, just as the accompanist kisses the soprano, a ragtag band of 18 terrorists enters the vice-presidential mansion through the air-conditioning ducts. Their quarry is the president, who has unfortunately stayed home to watch a favourite soap opera--and thus, from the beginning, things go awry.
Among the hostages are not only Hosokawa and Roxanne Coss, the American soprano, but an assortment of Russian, Italian and French diplomats. A Swiss Red Cross negotiator named Joachim Messner is roped into service while on holiday. He comes and goes, wrangling over terms and demands, and the days stretch into weeks, the weeks into months.

One of the characters is a priest, and when his parish finds out he is among the hostages, they begin to say the mass in his name. One of the things that he says, as he begins to consider this, is how amazing it is that his name is being lifted up from so many people, and that these people are lifting his name up to the very ear of God. I had never considered your prayers in quite that way until I read this passage. Now that I have, I will never be able to think of it otherwise.

Friday, August 18, 2006

World Trade Center: The Movie

On Tuesday my sister would have turned 46. I celebrated her and her influence on me by going to see World Trade Center. I'm at the beach so I got a private viewing of the movie in a 200-seat theatre (guess 9/11 movies aren't a big attraction when on vacation).

Needless to say the movie was emotional. Watching bodies fall 100 stories, reliving those days, weeks, months was difficult.

As a family member of a victim, I applaud Mr. Stone and Mr. Cage in their performances. I was braced for the usual political commentary that Hollywood is so willing to bestow on me, but it never came. What I saw was a great story of the courage of the people - the heroes that day. The face on Mr. McLoughlin/Cage as he went into towers was not a 'rambo-let's go get him' face, but rather a 'I'm scared as heck but this is the right thing to do' face.

The stories told while they were stuck in the rubble were the stories that every one of us lived those days, some of us closer than others. It seemed time moved in super-slow motion during the weeks after 9/11. Not just for people who had family there but for the whole country.

When time moves that slow, it is easier to see those God has put in our lives. Our country lives in a 'need for speed' mode that makes us often miss those directly around us.

Viewing that movie helped me remember. No one wants to live the tragedy of 9/11 over again. But all of us should try to live the simpler, slower lifestyle that immediately followed that tragedy. Put the crackberry down, say no to over-commitment so that you can say yes to those surrounding you.

His speed..

G