While funerals have a way of being forbidding, there were two things about our great-granddaughter’s service that I found both reassuring and unexpected. The first was the abundant outpouring of love and support from the grieved parent’s friends and co-workers. There were scores of them, and they were dressed in freshly-ironed work clothes – jeans or firemen’s or paramedic’s uniforms, as was Ashley, the father of the deceased. None were in dress suits. They were young, broad- shouldered, handsome – stout-heartened men used to responding to emergencies. They had their wives with them.

  One by one they filed by, giving Ashley and Amy big bear hugs, while saying little. They cared and they showed it. They may have been the macho type, but now they were tender and compassionate in their own quiet way. I thought of the Quaker dictum that there is something of God in all of us.

  The other unexpected blessing was what the preacher said. He was the pastor of the First Baptist Church in Ashley’s home town of Ponder, Texas, near Denton. He had been with Ashley and Amy the Sunday they lost Trinity. While composed and in control, it was evident that he deeply cared. It was a beloved baby’s funeral, and he spoke and prayed as if he felt the wrenching pain of the occasion. And yet he gave a relevant and meaningful biblical presentation. He referenced David’s devastating grief over the critical illness of his infant son, born of Bathsheba (2 Sam. 12). The king was prostrate on the ground, dressed in sackcloth, begging God to spare the child’s life. He fasted and prayed, and could not be consoled.

  When at last the child died, David’s servants were fearful of telling him, thinking he might do himself harm. When the king saw the servants whispering to each other, he asked if the child had died. They told him that he had.

  Surprisingly, the king rises from his bed of sorrow, bathes and puts on fresh clothes, and then goes to the temple of God to worship. Upon returning he orders food to be served and eats it. Life has to go on. The preacher made this point with telling effect -–the first thing David did at the death of his child was to worship God.

  His servants were puzzled at this behavior. They asked him why when he was so terribly grieved when the child was still alive did he now react with such composure when the child was dead. David explained that while the child was alive, he thought the Lord might show mercy and spare him, but now that he was dead life must go on. Then comes those riveting words, "He can’t come to me, but I can go to him."

  The preacher, with poised confidence, assured Ashley and Amy that while Trinity could no longer come to them, they could go to her. He said it like he really believed it!

  His brief words at graveside were equally poignant. Reading from Mark 10 he pointed out that Jesus was "indignant" when his disciples kept little children from coming to him. "Let the little children come to me; do not stop them," the Lord told them, " for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs." Jesus took them into his arms and blessed them. The preacher went on to say that Jesus is still receiving little ones and taking them into his arms. "Trinity’s body may be here, but she is in the arms of Jesus." He expressed his firm conviction that we are destined to be with our loved ones again in heaven.

  I afterwards introduced myself to him, and I told him that he had blessed us, and that it was reassuring to hear a preacher who prayed and spoke as if he really believed! That is one of the great needs of the church today, I added, Christians who truly believe.

  Two days after the funeral Ouida and I drove to Oklahoma City where I ministered to two congregations over the weekend. We had two sessions on Saturday – some five hours all together – at the Quail Valley Church of Christ – on "Our Churches of Christ Heritage in Scripture and History." I told them that our Stone-Campbell roots – our small "t" tradition – was "born of a passion for unity," as our earliest historian Robert Richardson put it. And that the essence of our plea is capsulized in our great motto, "In essentials unity, in opinions liberty, in all things love."

  But we also have a capital "T" tradition that goes back to Christ and the apostles, even back to father Abraham. This "T" tradition we share with all Christians, and it is this tradition, centered in Christ himself, that unites us. Our small "t" tradition can inform and inspire us in our mission of uniting all Christians in the "T" tradition. Our problems in "long division" have been that the various denominations, including ourselves, have insisted on making "T’s" out of "t’s". Or, as our pioneers put it, by "multiplying the essentials."

  On Sunday morning I addressed the combined adult classes, which numbered in the hundreds since this is a congregation of upwards of a thousand, on "What Grace is Doing in Churches of Christ." I introduced the subject by telling a story I heard from Fred Craddock about a preacher he met who referred to grace as his mother. He was born so deformed that his parents did not want him, and no one would adopt him. He lived in one foster home after another until his teenage years. He then started attending a neighborhood church, and that is where he found grace. Grace was his mother, he told Fred.

  I pointed out that Paul the apostle also referred to grace as being his mother – indeed, as the mother of us all: "The Jerusalem that is above is free, which is the mother of us all" (Gal. 4:26). The apostle refers to the New Jerusalem, which in this context is the new covenant of grace. Our mother Grace, I noted, is freedom, and she is liberating the Churches of Christ from legalism, sectarianism, and obscurantism. She is making us a more gracious and a more Christ-like people. She has given more reverence for the majesty of God, more devotion to Christ, and a greater awareness of the presence of the Holy Spirit. She is making us more responsible in our treatment of Scripture and more open in our view of the church – that the church is far more than the "Yellow Pages" Churches of Christ. Mother Grace is freeing us to enjoy fellowship with other believers, and to do things with other churches. She is making us more sensitive to human suffering and a more caring people.

  I had to close right on time and hurry on to the Dayspring Church of Christ in Edmond, several miles away, for their main service. I told them I felt like a politician scurrying from one venue to the next. All I needed was a helicopter! I motioned to Ouida to join me for our exit, and as she did so I introduced her as my sweetheart wife of, come February, 63 years.

  Once on our way, Ouida, who can see better than I these days, told me that they had given us a standing ovation as we left. I told her and those who were escorting us that a new day had dawned in Churches of Christ when a large, mainline Church of Christ in a major city gives Leroy Garrett a standing ovation!

   But, admittedly, the Dayspring Church of Christ is more my kind of congregation. It is much smaller, something less than a hundred. There are numerous young couples, and among the older ones are a few retired and active professors at nearby Oklahoma Christian University. They assemble in a circle around the Lord’s table, and, having no professional minister, they teach and encourage each other, including the women. This leaves them free to spend their money on various missions. They are led by elders who themselves minister to the flock, and do not have to worry with hiring and firing preachers! They have occasional guest speakers.

  I spoke on "It is the Heart that Matters," noting that while truth is assimilated and weighed by the mind, it must reach the heart in order to bear fruit, such as the fruit of the Spirit – love, joy peace. While outward forms – such as baptism, the Supper, prayer, giving – are ordained of God and have their place, they must be expressions of a heart devoted to Christ. I quoted several passages that call for the "whole heart" in devotion to God, and verses that warn against self-deceit – that "the heart is deceitful above all things, who can know it?" I ventured that Jesus had his own favorite "purple" passage, one he quoted again and again, and it was about the heart – "I desire mercy and not sacrifice" (Hosea 6:6).

  If I have the facts right, these appointments grew out of an incident that took place in a class on Restoration history at Oklahoma Christian. In recounting present trends in Churches of Christ the professor referred to a rebel editor in Denton, Texas who was rocking the boat, and was therefore controversial. This interested Heather Duncan, and she began to read the writings of this "liberal" editor. She at last asked the professor if she might do her term paper on him, and that she might even go to Denton to interview him.

  The professor not only agreed, but arranged for her to video tape the interview and make it part of the "living history" depository at the university library. Subsequently Heather, with her mother Kathleen in tow, who manned the video equipment, came to Denton for a half-day visit with Ouida and me. I have since accused Heather of asking questions like a prosecuting attorney. Heather, who has since graduated from the university and married, is a member at Dayspring, while Kathleen and her family are members at Quail Valley. I think they conned the leaders of the two congregations to arrange this tandem appointment.

  These women! Without them there would never have been any reformation of the church. When I was in Eastern Europe some years back I was told that it was the women who preserved the faith of the Orthodox Church during the 70 years of Communist persecution, during which time seminaries were closed and thousands of priests were murdered.

  We returned from Oklahoma City in time to join Tom and Lucy Fullerton for a flight to Albuquerque for the Balloon Festival. They both have deep roots in Churches of Christ. Lucy, orphaned as a baby, was raised at Boles Home, an historic Churches of Christ orphanage. Once college age, she received a tuition-free scholarship to attend Abilene Christian College where she met and married Tom Fullerton. They recently celebrated their 50^th. During those years they sent all four of their children to what is now Abilene Christian University. All three of their sons made physicians.

  Tom is an elder of the Plymouth Park Church of Christ in Irving, next to Dallas, a congregation that recently did an unusual thing. It deeded its property and facilities – upwards of six acres of land and worth upward of three million – to Abilene Christian for a Dallas campus. ACU officials, who for years have looked for a location for a Center in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, are delighted. They plan a biblical studies graduate program in the near future, along with other special programs. The church will continue to use the facilities – the church and the university working together. The Plymouth Park church, formerly known as Central Church of Christ, has long been avant garde. Carl Ketcherside and I were in unity meetings there 40 years ago.

  The balloons were something else to see. We were there early one morning to watch as the balloons were inflated and rose from the ground like sleeping giants. I was close enough to feel the heat from the blow torches, and to watch as the riders climbed into their baskets for the trip skyward. The balloons were of all sizes, colors, shapes, and designs. Some had legs and arms, one was shaped like a locomotive steam engine, another resembled the White House, still another was like a red fire engine.

  Most were shaped like water drops – the shape we usually see in pictures – but of various sizes and colors with magnificent designs. It was a thrill to see hundreds of them in the sky, almost touching each other. They floated almost motionless, as if an angelic assembly watching some spectacle on earth.

  After awhile the large field was cleared , and spectators were asked to watch from the sidelines as the balloons had a contest. There was a large circle drawn in the middle of the field with a bull’s eye at the center. The balloons were to maneuver themselves so as to make a large arch, and then come in low over the circle and drop a white flag as near the bull’s eye as possible. The one closest to the bull’s eye won. If the basket touched the ground that balloon was disqualified. It was amazing how skilled some of the balloonists were, coming in over the circle no more than a foot or two from the ground.

  With no motorized power a balloon is at the mercy of the wind currents. By skillfully applying heat to the balloon by way of a powerful blow torch, or by withholding the heat, the balloon can be made to ascend or descend, slowly. This way it catches wind currents in different directions, and thus can go and come in a relatively small area. This makes possible such a contest as described. Albuquerque makes ideal balloon country because of its abundant crisscross wind currents.

  We were all dazzled by the spectacle. Even Ouida, who was at first not all that upbeat on seeing a bunch of balloons, was converted. I was especially delighted that I got to see the balloons as first lying prostrate on the ground like an oil spill, and then gradually come to life and slowly take shape, move upward and overshadow me like a huge boulder. It was a memorable experience feeling the heat of the blow torches against my face.

  While in Albuquerque we got to meet Glenn Thompson, retired Air Force, who for some time has been scanning and putting on my website the 34 volumes of Restoration Review, some 6,800 pages. He is about halfway. He wanted to meet the editor of all these volumes. He is a devoted Christian who is also busy caring for his wife who is in a wheelchair.

  While we were that near, we drove to Gallup, some 125 miles west of Albuquerque, to visit Ouida’s sister, Maudine Kilgore and her husband Larry. Tom and Lucy were pleased to see Indian country. Gallup is virtually surrounded by a Navaho reservation, the Navahos being the largest tribe in the U.S.

  Even though we were gone only five days, we had to keep in touch with home, for our daughter Phoebe, devastated by the loss of her granddaughter, had been hospitalized – even in ICU – with a respiratory infection. It is an ongoing illness exacerbated by the grief. Her lungs are severely damaged by long years of smoking. She at last quit, but it may have been too late. She has been through this before, and we once thought we would lose her. She is presently on a respirator. Her situation is precarious, but we are hopeful. She is now 51. The doctor says her youth is in her favor.

We keep on being bent, but we haven’t broken yet. Mother Grace is never far from us. We thank you for your prayerful concern.