There once was a boy named Randall. He was born in a small
town in France. Randall and his family were winemakers. Randall and some of his
kin-folk believed that they could pray directly to God. Most of the people in
France thought that Randall should pray to a "saint" or else ask a
priest to talk to God for them.
The church folks said that Randall and his family were in
disobedience to the church. Randall said he was being obedient to God, and
nothing else mattered. Before long, most folks got fed up with Randall and his
kind talking straight to God and they complained to the French government. The
government told Randall to "stop that praying right now," but he
wouldn’t stop talking to God. Randall and his kin folks and all others in
France like them were called Huguenots. In some other places they were just
called Protestants. One weekend when the Huguenots came to Paris to pray, the
government ordered the army to put an end to the Huguenots’ rebellious
behavior once and for all. Ten thousand French Protestants were slaughtered in
the streets in a single day just outside Paris. Randall and all his family were
shocked and took up their weapons hoping that the slaughter would not continue.
The Huguenots were outnumbered about a half million to one. As Randall marched
off to battle, he asked God to give him victory that he and his descendants
could live in their own land in peace. He fought at the battle of La Rochelle.
The Huguenots lost. Randall’s soul was crushed. Had God rejected his petition?
Randall told his parents that maybe they should consider
moving on to another place. "But we are French," his mother replied,
"where could we go?" Randall’s father decided that they would go to
England where the country was full of Protestants and they would be accepted and
could finally live in peace. They settled in the town of Bristol. Randall
commented: "Certainement, ces personnes parlent d’une meniere e’trange,
n’est-ce-pas, papa." Which translated into North Floridian means:
"These people sho’ do talk funny, don’t they daddy?"
Randall’s daddy replied, "Son, I told you they spoke a
different language here." You’ll learn it—we all will."
Randall and his family soon found that England was not the
Protestant paradise for which they were searching. England was itself
Protestant, but their King—Charles I, was not and within a couple of years,
King Charles determined that he needed to wage war against the Scots, an action
which would ultimately bring Britain into full civil war, Randall wanted no part
of it. He said, "I’ve had enough of this—I’m going to America."
And he did.
Randall was only twenty-something when he stepped onto the
eastern Virginia/Maryland shore. He was enthusiastic about his new home and
worked hard to acquire land there. He fell head over heals in love and married a
beautiful young woman named Katherine Scarborough. Lord Calvert took notice of
Randall and appointed him one of the original commissioners to oversee land
grants in Somerset County. Randall became a member of the Virginia House of
Burgesses representing Northampton County. Years later, when Lord Calvert
desired to build a courthouse for Somerset county, he came to Randall. Randall
was pleased to give 20 of his prime acres along the bank of the Manokin river
for the project. Randall had four sons and four daughters and enough
grandchildren to start his own baseball league. God had indeed heard Randall and
had answered his prayer to give him and his descendants victory and peace in
their own land.
It was certainly not what Randall had expected, but it was
better than he could have ever dreamed.
Randall Revell died on May 27, 1685. He was 77 years old.
My son, I know that a lot of other blood also flows through
your veins, but I thought you might like to know just how you came about that
name.
Copyright © 2000 by Ken Revell