Taylor's Gift (27 page)

Todd

I felt as if I had learned to trust God in new ways when I quit my job and we started Taylor's Gift. But I still struggled knowing what my roles and responsibilities were in this new partnership. I knew I was supposed to trust God to make things happen, but did that mean I should sit back and not do anything? Just wait for Him to do it all? Or was I supposed to do something—use the gifts and talents He'd blessed me with to further the mission of Taylor's Gift Foundation? And if so, how much of me and how much of Him?

Until this point, there had been very little of the old Todd
doing
. I had spent most of the previous months responding to the things God brought our way, and I had no doubt He had blessed us abundantly. However, as we prepared for the New York trip and for the
Today Show
, I wrestled with whether or not I should call some of my media connections to see if we could do more interviews while we were in NYC. Didn't it make sense to maximize our time and the foundation's exposure? On the other hand, so far I hadn't
made any calls to media—they called us—so maybe I should sit back and see what else God would do.

It was a dilemma that got at the heart of who I am.

Am I a doer or a truster?

Around that time, I came across Psalm 131 in the Message version of the Bible: “God, I'm not trying to rule the roost, I don't want to be king of the mountain. I haven't meddled where I have no business or fantasized grandiose plans. I've kept my feet on the ground, I've cultivated a quiet heart” (vv. 1–2). That passage spoke to me. I hadn't fantasized grandiose plans. I had kept my feet solidly on the ground, and I didn't want to rule the roost. I just wanted to help sick people get healthy through organ donation.

I decided God would want me to use the talents and connections He'd blessed me with to further what He was already doing. I was also pretty sure those on the list waiting for organs would want the same. I was doing what I was doing not for any glory for me—I wasn't trying to be king of the mountain—I just wanted Taylor's life and death to have a purpose and meaning. So I picked up the phone and called a friend of mine in New York with lots of media connections. I told him about Taylor's Gift and how we were trying to get the message about organ donation out to as many people as possible. “We're going to be in New York in a couple of weeks to do
The Today Show
. Is there anyone else we should connect with while we're there?”

“I know a lot of people who would be interested,” my friend said. “Let me make a few phone calls and get back to you.”

I'd done what I could do. The rest was up to God—that's where the trust came in.

That's also where God worked.

I finally felt as if I'd found the balance between trusting and doing. As we prepared for the New York trip, I captured a couple of thoughts on my blog:

I am constantly drawn to two things. The first is what my grandfather instilled in me: It's not what happens to you that matters, but how you react to it that does.

The second is Taylor's favorite verse, from Luke 18:27 (NIV): What is impossible with men is possible with God.

More than anything else, these two thoughts were my vision for Taylor's Gift. Yes, we'd lost our daughter and that wasn't fair. We didn't have a choice about whether she lived or died. But faced with her loss, the question remained: How would we react to it?

The foundation was our answer.

We also knew that moving the needle on the number of organ donors wouldn't be easy. And, frankly, the kind of media attention we were getting was in the realm of the impossible. What nonprofit less than a year old could land segments on the two most-viewed morning shows? But what was impossible with men was possible with God. We were proof of that.

Whenever I dropped Taylor off at school, I would say, “Make someone's day better.” I liked to think that's what we were doing with Taylor's Gift. We were working to make someone's day better through the gift of organ donation. While reflecting on the things that had happened over the past few weeks and the things scheduled for the next few days, I wrote:

None of this would be possible without God choosing us for this journey. We are blessed. This is just a small step in the life-changing work that Taylor's Gift Foundation will make in this world. Taylor is proud of all our work, but there is so much more ahead of us.

The last time I had been in New York City with my family was at the beginning of November 2006, when I'd run the New York Marathon. Tara, Taylor, and Ryan had come to cheer me on; Peyton was too young, so she had stayed at home with grandparents.

I had planned my work schedule around the event so I could be in the city with my family for a few days. I would work during
the day, and when I finished I'd join Tara and the kids in exploring Manhattan. The city was special to Tara and me. It was where our relationship had moved from friendship to something more. We had taken the kids to the top of the Empire State Building and to Little Italy, where we had pointed out the restaurant Tara and I ate in when we were dating. It had been one of the best trips we'd ever been on. We had been thrilled when the kids loved it as much as we did.

As the plane descended into New York, I pointed out buildings in the skyline to Ryan and Peyton. I had an immediate sense of déjà vu. I remembered pointing out the same buildings on our last trip. It was the same son, but this time, a different daughter.

Patricia, Joe, and their boys were staying in the same hotel as we were, and they were waiting for us in the lobby. We had introductions all around, lots of hugs, and a few tears. It felt like a reunion.

After checking in, the whole crowd went out for dinner. We had a great time talking, laughing, and getting to know one another better. When we returned to the hotel room, Tara and Patricia were still texting back and forth when suddenly Tara said, “Ryan and Peyton, Mrs. Winters has her stethoscope. Would you like to hear Taylor's heart?”

Patricia was thoughtful enough to have brought her stethoscope, and she thought the kids might want to hear their sister's heartbeat again.

“I would!” Peyton said eagerly.

“I don't want to,” Ryan said.

There wasn't a right or wrong answer. So Ryan and I stayed in our room while Tara and Peyton went up to Patricia's, where Peyton heard her sister's heart beating for the first time since her death.

Tara told me later that as soon as Peyton heard it, she looked up and locked eyes with Patricia, and they both smiled. Tara snapped a picture at that exact moment and showed it to me. It was incredible to see.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of rain and got up to read my Bible. In my journal I wrote:

Sitting in the Essex House Hotel in New York City. Began the morning with the Bible. I love reading the YouVersion on the iPad. Today starts with Psalm 126, “And now, God, do it again. Bring rains to our drought-stricken lives.”

God is raining His blessings and glory and love on us. Yes, it is raining outside, and the rain pounds the window over our hotel room. I know You are here. I know You are with me.

Before we left the hotel, I prayed God would bless our story by using it to inspire and motivate viewers to become registered organ donors.

Being behind the scenes of
The Today Show
was an amazing experience, not only for the kids but for the adults too. Tara and I sat on the couch with Patricia between us. The three of us held hands. There was an energy among us, but no one was nervous because we had each other. Though the footage they showed made us tear up, we all stayed strong. Throughout the interview, I felt like I was at the center of God's will. I knew that sharing Taylor's story was helping to save lives—like Patricia's.

Later in the day the kids wanted to see the Empire State Building. On the way, I thought about Ryan and wondered if he remembered the last time we had visited. A feeling of nostalgia washed over me—we were doing the same things we'd done on the last family trip, only this time with Peyton. Back then, Ryan had been the younger brother—the middle child. Now he was the older brother and the oldest. Things had changed for all of us.

Being at the top of the Empire State Building is really cool. But until I'm up there, I forget that it can also be a little scary. That high up, the wind is stronger than you expect, and for some reason, looking down makes the distance to the ground seem a lot greater than when you're on the sidewalk looking up.

That night, like always, I had my camera with me. I lined up the kids and Tara so I could take their picture. Looking through the camera lens, I realized it was the same spot I'd taken a picture of Tara, Taylor, and Ryan years earlier. I was flooded with memories of Taylor and our last trip to New York, but I tried not to let my emotions show. I didn't want to ruin the experience for anyone else.

But it didn't get any easier. Ryan and Peyton chose the very same coin-activated binocular viewer that he and Taylor had argued over last time we were there. At the time, I had only one quarter, and they had to take turns. Watching Ryan go through the same motions, this time with Peyton, I thought about how much things had changed. Who was I back then? That dad would never have suspected how limited his time with his kids really was. Just like the quarter would buy only so many minutes with the binoculars, time would run out and the view would never be the same.

I was still in a nostalgic mood as we made our way back to the hotel. We passed street vendors selling jewelry, handbags, and sunglasses. A dark-haired woman had children's artwork for sale. The colors caught my eye, and I saw that they were a combination of painting and calligraphy, and each picture spelled out a child's name. When I looked up from the table, the picture on display made me stop and look again. In flowing letters and vibrant colors, it spelled: TAYLOR.

Once again, I felt as if she were with us.

I stopped to take her picture.

Over the next few weeks, as the stats came in, we began to see the number of registered donors increasing nationwide. To me, it was a confirmation that we were doing exactly what we should be doing. The numbers were proof. It was very satisfying to know that our story and Taylor's Gift had played at least a small part in getting that needle to move up.