EGGLESTON -- Two weeks ago, Joyce and Mark Bryant took wreaths to the snow-covered graves of Rebekah, Joseph, Nehemiah, Martina, David and Jackson.

Rebekah, 19. Beautiful. Talented. Determined to do what was right.

Joseph, 10. Their little preacher.

Nehemiah, 9. Their little doctor.

Martina, 7. Gentle. Faithful. Musically gifted, like Rebekah.

David, 4. Exuberant. Hearty. Full of life.

Jackson, 2. Their joy.

As they stood on the hill gazing at six wooden crosses, the couple held each other tightly.

Then they returned to Kameron, Caleb and Sarah and prepared to celebrate Christmas.

"There won't be as many presents under the tree, but you know what? It was never about presents anyway," Joyce said. "It really isn't about the gifts. It's about the heart. And the savior."

A gas leak may have caused the Sept. 3 explosion at Lorrie Kuchar's Michigan home that killed six of the Bryants' nine children. Investigators are looking into the possibility of a faulty valve on a propane gas water heater that had been installed just days before the blast.

Still, Lorrie said she must face the possibility that she may never know what destroyed her home and decimated her sister's family.

"The state fire marshal told me it could be concluded as inconclusive," she said. "I have a need to know what happened that night because of my nieces and nephews."

"My whole family was in that house that day," she added. "We could all be gone."

Funeral services for the Bryant children were held first in Michigan, then in Virginia at Ripplemead's Riverview Baptist Church.

The caskets were open, except for the one holding the remains of 19-year-old Rebekah.

Mark Bryant knew his daughter, the modest girl who had pledged not to kiss a man until she married, wouldn't have wanted her body displayed in death.

It was Mark who had named their firstborn.

"We already had Sarah and Hannah picked out," Joyce remembered, "but when Mark saw her, he said, 'Let's name her Rebekah because she's so beautiful.' "

The bodies of all six children who died in the blast were still, miraculously, beautiful. More than likely, they were killed instantly by the concussion from the explosion.

Gene Dalton | The Roanoke Times

Joyce and Mark Bryant attach wreaths to the crosses that mark the graves of six of their children killed in an explosion

Want to contact the family? Correspondence to the Bryant family is being handled by Pastor Shahn Wilburn and Riverview Baptist Church. To learn more, see the church Web site: riverviewbaptistchurch.com. Write to the family in care of Riverview Baptist Church, 219 Big Stony Creek Road, P.O. Box 206, Ripplemead, Va. 24150 A selection of hymns as sung by Rebekah Bryant Photo gallery: See more photos of the Bryant family and hear Rebekah Bryant sing 'Amazing Grace' Video: Watch video of Mark Bryant (Requires RealPlayer) A letter from Dad: Read Mark Bryant's letter to his six deceased children Faith in the face of tragedy

Caleb, 14, suffered serious flash burns but no internal injuries and was in the hospital for 10 days.

His 6-year-old sister, Sarah, who had multiple broken bones and a collapsed lung, was released after 17 days.

Joseph Moore, the 18-year-old family friend who also survived the explosion, was hospitalized 26 days with two broken legs, a lacerated liver and a head injury that caused complete hearing loss in his left ear. But like Caleb and Sarah, he is now back at his home and healing well.

His mother, Debbie Moore, said her son is getting stronger every day but still has no memory of the explosion.

Neither do Caleb and Sarah.

"It's like God took that away," Joyce Bryant said.

'I still long'

On Oct. 2, just a month after the accident, Mark and Joyce Bryant addressed their church family.

God, Mark said, had blessed him with nine children, partly as a way to rid him of his own selfishness.

"With each kid, God worked some of that selfishness out," he said. "I had a lot of selfishness -- so we had a lot of kids. Sometimes God blesses you in spite of yourself."

A minister's son, Mark remembers accepting Christ when he was only 8. Even before they met, he and Joyce were committed Christians.

As the children kept coming, their joy kept increasing. Each personality, Joyce said, brought something unique to their family.

With God's guidance in their lives, she and Mark had created their own fairy tale.

"Cinderella meets the handsome prince and lives happily ever after," she told the congregation. "That was my life."

Mark had built a successful accounting firm that allowed him to provide for his large family. As he left his Eggleston farmhouse every morning for the commute to work in Blacksburg, his children kissed him goodbye. At the end of the day, they impatiently awaited his arrival, clamoring for the first welcome-home kiss. At night, he prayed with them.

And Joyce was in her element as a home school teacher and -- more importantly -- as a mom.

"My parents wanted so badly for her to be a teacher," her sister Lorrie recalled, "but Joyce said, 'I'm going to be a mom.' "

At home in Eggleston, Joyce managed to do both. None of her children ever attended public school.

She had taught Rebekah, her oldest, everything she could, and Rebekah had graduated. Rebekah's eyes were on college, followed by nursing school. A talented singer, she had even produced her own album and named it "From the Heart."

Joyce -- a whiz at organizing and planning -- took her teaching seriously. Academic studies were a big part of her children's education, but not the only part. They had their religious training. They were involved in organized sports. They had responsibilities.

"Whoever was in charge of laundry for that day knew that everyone was depending on him," Joyce explained. "We functioned together as a family, as a team."

Even David, who was only 4, was responsible for polishing door knobs with a baby wipe.

"Now, we're just at a loss because half of the team is gone."

"I had it all," she said. "I still have it all. I know my children are safe. But I still long for them, and I don't have words for that longing. You can't replace the foot on the steps."

'God hasn't changed'

Mad at God?

Not for a day. Not for an hour. Not for an instant.

It is God, the Bryants believe, who gives peace that surpasses all understanding.

"God will never give you more than you can handle, but he will give you the grace to handle whatever happens," Joyce told her church.

"In his grace and in his mercy and in his incredible love for me, God did not take all my children."

But it was God, she pointed out, who gave his only son.

"God is perfect. It was perfect that Jesus came to die. It was not pleasant. It was perfect."

When news of the Bryants' tragedy spread around the world, stories of hope came back to them in the hundreds of letters and cards they received.

Mark was told of a teenage boy in Bolivia -- the eldest of nine children --who had survived a suicide attempt and, upon learning of the explosion that killed the children, had joined his mother in dedicating his life to Christ.

And of a Kentucky father who had a change of heart about leaving his own family after he heard about their loss.

Inspired by such stories, he and Joyce made a decision to be vulnerable.

They shared their experience with the newspaper and appeared on TV. In the future, they plan to visit other churches and share their experience with those who struggle to find faith.

"All things work together for those that love the Lord," Joyce said. "All things. If I had to lose my six for God to gain many in his kingdom, it is a temporary loss."

"God hasn't changed," Mark agreed. "We just know he's not going to waste this."

As they faced the holidays this year with trepidation, it was their three surviving children -- Kameron, Caleb and Sarah -- who conveyed God's message.

"We are using the good china," Kameron declared at the Thanksgiving feast.

"Are you coming to our Christmas party?" Caleb asked someone before Joyce had even thought about the annual fete where friends and family gathered at the Bryant house.

"Can Lindsey come over and help?" Sarah wanted to know as she donned an apron and prepared to melt chocolate in the microwave for the traditional pretzel-dipping day of holiday baking.

The children have gone on with life.

They haven't forgotten their brothers and sisters -- Sarah carries a picture of Martina in her little pocketbook -- but they don't dwell on the sadness.

Kameron spends time with friends. Caleb plays basketball. Sarah dips pretzels into chocolate and sprinkles them with candy.

When she talks about her little brother, Jackson, she does so lovingly.

"Jackson loved having his voos on," she remembered, grinning. "That was his word for shoes."

'It's the little things'

Shortly after coming home, Caleb asked his parents to remove the beds in the room he shared with Joseph, Nehemiah, David and Jackson.

"Get rid of them," he pleaded.

Now, Caleb is alone in the boys' room with his guitars and the autographed game jersey sent to him by Kevin Jones, the former Hokie running back who now plays for the NFL's Detroit Lions.

In the girls' room, Kameron and Sarah have each other. Still, Mark said, "Sarah's had a hard time because she always slept with Martina."

And the house, of course, is quiet.

The very things that once seemed vexing are the things the Bryants miss.

Rebekah singing at the top of her lungs. The crunch of 2-year-old Jackson's spilled Cheerios underfoot. Soccer socks caked with mud.

"The first time I went into Wal-Mart to buy milk, I had a major meltdown," Joyce said. "I put 3 gallons in the cart. Then, I realized that one would be plenty."

"It's the little things that you don't expect."

Mark concentrates on being grateful for the big things.

"We can look and focus on the loss of six kids, but it could have been a greater loss," he said. "It could have been eight kids. It could have been 20 people."

"I won't give in to self-pity," agreed his wife. "To do that would be to say God blinked his eyes for a moment, and I fell apart."