He was the strong one. She was the one you went to for comfort. He worked the land. She could be found in the kitchen or out at the line hanging clothes. Dogs running in the background, chasing after kids. Sounds of horses working the land.Hammer noise bouncing off the trees, as they were helping build an addition to the house. A baby on the way. If you stood still, you could hear the voice of God whispering through out the land of this family as he guided them day-to-day. God-fearing people were the foundation of this tiny town. Working, and playing together. Sundays were joyful praises and you could hear a soft amen being spoken from time to time, as the preacher man poured out his lesson. Lids of baskets being taken off, aroma of fried chicken, rising for all to smell. All gathered near, holding hands as grace was being said. Some resting under the shadow of a tree, others playing games. Chatter being transferred back and forth. Everyone now tired. Walking home, they saw dark, grey clouds in the sky ahead of them. It was coming from the direction of their home. The children ran ahead, and they both sped up their walk. When they neared their home, she fell to her knees, he saw the children frozen in their spot. Their house was burning. Roof was gone, glass was broken. He ran to the barn and quickly filled the buckets from the well, trying to beat the fire, one bucket at a time. God knew. God through is almighty power, sounded the trumpets, for all those to hear. Soon family members from all around were passing buckets. Slowly the fire was put out. Women putting their arms around other women. Gathering children in arms. Men stirring the ashes. They found comfort in each other as they shared a family supper together. Children tucked in, women doing dishes. Outside, men smoking pipes making plans. God guided them in their need. A new home was up before the next planting.