Third-grader remembered for love of life, others

TUCSON — She had an easy smile and eyes the color of mahogany. She was dainty one minute and a tomboy the next, trading a prim ballet outfit for a Canyon del Oro Little League uniform. She was the only girl on the Pirates, a second basewoman and an occasional pitcher, and quite confident she'd be the first woman in the major leagues.

She fancied things that, even in a cynical age, were hard to argue with — singing, animals, climbing mesquite trees, tending to the less fortunate.

Led by law enforcement officials in white gloves, pallbearers wheeled Christina Taylor Green's casket into the church Thursday. Her parents, John and Roxanna Green, and her brother, 11-year-old Dallas, followed, holding hands and bowing their heads.

The entry to the church was framed by a 30-foot-wide flag known as the National 9/11 Flag, which flew atop the south tower of the World Trade Center the day it fell. Shredded and lifted from the wreckage, it was largely forgotten until 2008, when a foundation brought it to Greensburg, Kan., where volunteers — many of whom had survived a series of tornadoes — patched it up with flags battered by a tornado.

In the days since Christina became the youngest of those killed in Arizona's mass shooting, much has been made of her life. But the hard truth is that she was born on one terrible day and died on another, with just nine years in between. So how could one third-grader have meant so much?

Christina, born on Sept. 11, 2001, shot and killed last weekend, was laid to rest Thursday, with little less than the promise of a better nation draped around her slender shoulders. In an address the night before the service, President Obama had challenged Americans to live up to Christina's vision — to be, as the president put it, "better friends and neighbors and co-workers and parents."

"She wanted to make a difference with her life, to make her mark. She has done so in such a powerful way that even she could not have imagined," Tucson Bishop Gerald Kicanas said in his homily, held before a capacity crowd of 1,800 people.

The bishop also noted that even in death, Christina helped others; she was an organ donor. About a quarter of the mourners were children, many of them from Christina's school or baseball league.

'We'll never forget you'

"Everybody's going to be OK," her father, John Green, told mourners. "She'd want that." Addressing his daughter directly, he said: "I think you've affected the whole country. We'll never forget you."

The private service was held at the adobe St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Catholic Church, in northwest Tucson near the foot of the Santa Catalina Mountains.

The church was decorated with pink flowers and large photographs of a grinning Christina. Mourners spoke at an altar topped with a colorful "Ojo de Dios," or God's eye, a tradition of southwest Christianity that dates back to Spanish settlers and American Indians. Some believe the design is a window into the soul of God.

Astronaut Mark Kelly, the husband of Arizona Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, who was severely wounded in the attack, was among the mourners attending the service. Hundreds more — families with children and elderly neighbors — lined the roadway leading to the church, many carrying single roses.

Giffords' recovery

At Tucson's University Medical Center, Giffords is opening both eyes, moving both legs and arms and is responding to friends and family.

Her doctors call it a "major milestone" in her recovery.

"We're hoping that she crosses through many more," said her neurosurgeon, Michael Lemole.

Her remarkable recovery five days after being shot through the head has provided a much-needed dose of jubilation after a tragic week that left the nation in mourning.

The three-term Democrat first opened her eyes on her own Wednesday evening while surrounded by her husband and close friends from Congress.

Her left eye, which was unbandaged, started to flicker and she struggled a bit to widen it.

"Gabby, open your eyes, open your eyes," her husband urged her.

Kelly told her to give him a thumbs-up if she could hear him. She did more than that. She slowly raised her left arm.

Giffords' movements left her friends astonished.

"It felt like we were watching a miracle," said Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz, who was at the bedside. "The strength that you could see flowing out of her, it was like she was trying to will her eyes open."

At a news conference Thursday, Lemole smiled when asked if it was a miracle. Then, he spoke carefully, as those trained to operate on the most delicate of organs do. He knows all too well the setbacks that could lurk.

"Miracles happen every day," he said. "In medicine, we like to very much attribute them to either what we do or others do around us. But a lot of medicine is outside of our control and we're wise to acknowledge miracles."

This story was originally published January 14, 2011 at 12:00 AM with the headline "Third-grader remembered for love of life, others."