They lived in a little, one room cabin after they got married, while their house was being built a few yards away. They didn't believe in birth control, so after 3 months of being married and not getting pregnant they thought that they wont be able to have children... but finally on the forth month she found out that she was expecting. She was due in September but the baby came in August. A little baby girl.
Building the house was slow progress, as they bought supplies when the money was available.
One day in the middle of winter, as the baby slept in her crib, the mother was doing laundry and had the stove top open to have more warmth seep into the room. They had an old fashioned stove, the one that still required wood or coal to work... the embers were red and seemed almost ready to go out, but suddenly a spark flew out the open top and landed on the pile of laundry as it ignited on contact. The woman jumped as she watched the yellow-orange flames dance on the pile of clothes and caught a hold of the curtains that were decorating the window. Not knowing what to do, she ran outside barefoot into the deep snow, yelling for the men who were working on the house. The first to arrive was her brother in law, he was 18, tall and awkward. At first he tried to stop the fire, until he realized that she was trying to tell him that her baby was inside. Then not thinking he ran inside into the heat, found the crib and wrapping the crying infant into a blanket he ran outside... As the men arrived and fought the fire.
After the mother calmed her baby she noticed a burn on the baby's forehead. She applied salve to it, but it left a round scar the size of a quarter on the baby for the rest of her life. But she was saved, and the parents praised God that night as they gazed at their firstborn, who slept in peace... that baby was me.