Under gray skies and drizzle on the last day of summer, St. Paul buried two youngsters Tuesday, laying to rest the potential of two young lives and leaving ripples of grief.

Two fatal shootings, two funerals and two attempts to find something good in the pain. And - at the conclusion of one of the funerals - an emotional and powerful outpouring as hundreds of young people mourning a friend came forward to make a new start in the Lord.

On the West Side, at Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church, a packed house celebrated the life of 24-year-old Eddie (Pookie) Montez, a gentle but wandering soul gunned down last Wednesday in his home; shot by unknown killers who pushed past his mother to murder her son. And across town, at the Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church in the Summit-University neighborhood, they held the "home-going" of 18-year-old Octavia (Tavy) Adams, who died the same day Eddie died, shot when a gun that was being passed around by a group of kids who shouldn't have had one went off.

"Words are hard to find during these times," the Rev. Kevin Kenney told the mourners at Our Lady of Guadalupe, where "On Eagles' Wings" was sung in English and in Spanish. "The hardest thing for us is to bury a young person whose life was snuffed out way too soon."

"Tears are coming from our eyes, and questions are running through our head," the Rev. Daryl Spence told a gathering at Shiloh Baptist, where Octavia Adams' friends wept racking sobs of grief and white-clad ushers squeezed through the crowd to hand out tissues. "Why her?" Spence asked, raising his eyes toward Heaven.
"Why now?"

Adams graduated from St. Paul Arlington High in June and was planning on college next year. She was popular and well-known in the Summit-University area, where she was a member of the Falcons Drill Team and Drum Corps. A 16-year-old boy has been arrested in connection with her shooting. But nothing the police do will ease the pain among her circle of friends, dozens of whom wore white T-shirts Tuesday that were emblazoned with her smiling portrait and the question that priest and minister struggled to answer:

"Why Do The Good Die Young?"

Spence - one of a group of St. Paul street-smart ministers known as the God Squad - tackled the subject head-on, backed by gospel music and scripture, choosing a passage from 2 Chronicles in which the Lord says he will answer the prayers of his people if they "humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways."

Spence said it wasn't a pleasant sight when he was called to Octavia's home on Carroll Avenue after the shooting. Octavia, he said, was "an angel." She wasn't a kid who was in trouble or causing pain to others. She wasn't a gang-banger whose passing is mourned only by relatives and fellow gang members. "Tavy" left a packed, weeping church full of friends. So the only way to understand her death, Spence suggested, is as a message.

"I just couldn't see her in a casket - all that spirit and all the fun she used to have," he said. "You don't think preachers cry?
You don't think men cry? All that macho stuff? Let me tell you, I cried. If Octavia had been a thug, `throwing down' [gang signs] on every corner, we wouldn't even wonder about the `why.' But this is a girl who the Lord said:

`This is the one I need, to get the attention of the young folk.
I need a good example! I'm tired of taking ones nobody cares about
- so they can have the funeral at a funeral home, 'cuz ain't nobody going anyway. I've got an angel that I plucked from the neighborhood. She's the perfect one to pluck out.'

"When he took her, he said, `I need somebody who won't be ashamed by the gospel.' "

Spence finished his fiery eulogy with a stirring altar call, asking the mourners to turn to Jesus. For a few moments, loud sobs punctuated the silence but no one moved. Then a handful of Octavia's friends stepped forward. And then hundreds - maybe 300 or more - crowding the aisles while another member of the God Squad, the Rev. Devin Miller, led them in a prayer and told them to embrace each other as brothers and sisters in Christ.

At last, the sobbing in Shiloh Church subsided and gave way to hugs and handshakes. It was an electrifying moment, one that not even the God Squad had seen before.

"We lose too many young people," Miller told the congregation as Octavia's family followed her casket out of the church. "Not because of the street, but because of the stuff in your hearts."
Promising to help the new believers find church homes and telling them to come "just as they are," Miller exulted: "This is enough to start a new movement in St. Paul! This is probably the greatest thing that could ever happen at a home-coming!"

Afterward, the God Squad ministers mingled with mourners on Hague Avenue as the funeral cortege lined up. "One child gave her life that many may give their lives to the Lord," Spence said. "That in itself is a testimony to the little girl that we have lost.
Something good may come out of this. Something good will come out of this."

Octavia Adams' funeral cortege turned north on Victoria Street and headed for the cemetery. Ninety minutes earlier, Eddie Montez was laid down.

"The question is, when is this going to stop?" Kenney had asked at Eddie's funeral.

"When is evil going to be dispelled from the Earth? We need to be peacemakers in today's world. But we need to remember Jesus was there, embracing Eddie. He was there at Eddie's side, when the doctors tried to save him. But we need to speak out against evil.
Because this isn't right."

One day, two young shooting victims buried in St. Paul. A day full of sorrow and sadness. But a day when, somehow, sadness gave way to celebration, and pain turned into promise.

Maybe it was just the way we keep ourselves going. Or maybe it was a miracle.