Good courage

In the post just below, you see Ref at the peak of our addition, and by his side, as always, is Mr. B.

Friday night at St. James, and again Saturday afternoon at Cornish Memorial, Mr. B was at his side as well, in the choir, resplendent in church clothes. The music both times was . . . heavenly. Brantley was singing with joy, his smile dazzling. After Saturday's service, as everyone was sharing a meal downstairs, he came up and said, "I've lost my friend," -- we embraced -- "but I've found my friend." I was humbled. He told me to hang on to the peace I was feeling.

I thought of the people I'd talked with at both services -- the close family, the cousins, Sterling, Nate, old Mr. Allen on one side of me in Friday's pew and Christine from our architect's office on the other, Ken, Franklin, the electricians Matt and Denny, our neighbor Frankie Mae, the people I didn't know who hugged anyway, smiling or weeping or both -- and then again I thought of Mr. B, and of Isaiah 41:6.

Every one helped his neighbor, and every one said to his brother:
Be of good courage.