Smoke drifted lazily from Rebecca's kitchen while the aroma of fresh bread lingered in the cool morning air. One by one the trade supervisors gathered their crews.

Buck Rogers stood near the hay barn with his clipboard.

"Carpenters!"

Nearly thirty men stepped forward.

"With Frank Cooper."

Frank tipped his broad-brimmed hat.

"We'll have your homes standing before sundown."

A ripple of surprised laughter swept through the newcomers.

Buck smiled.

"You'll quit laughing when you see him work."

"Loggers!"

John Miller answered with a wave.

Twenty sturdy woodsmen joined him.

"Our lumber isn't going to walk out of the forest by itself," John said. "Let's go introduce ourselves to a few oak trees."

Again the crowd laughed.

"Brickmakers!"

Jacob Yoder slowly removed his corncob pipe.

"If you don't mind getting muddy, you'll fit right in."

Men of every age followed him toward the clay pit.

"Masons!"

Another group assembled.

"Sawmill crew!"

Wheelwrights.

Blacksmiths.

Teamsters.

Farmers.

Each trade found its place until the empty meadow that had seemed so confusing only yesterday suddenly possessed order.

Samuel watched quietly.

This wasn't an army.

It was something better.

It was a community discovering its purpose.

Frank Cooper led his carpenters to the first building site. Stacks of freshly sawn lumber lay waiting beside neat piles of brick.

He studied the foundation stakes.

"Boys," he said, "today we're not building houses."

One young carpenter frowned.

"No?"

Frank grinned.

"We're building the place where children will remember growing up."

The men smiled.

"Now let's get to work."

Axes rang.

Hammers echoed across the valley.

Hand saws sang through fresh pine.

By midmorning the first walls stood shoulder high.

Before dinner the rafters were in place.

Late that afternoon the first roof boards covered the frame.

Several newcomers stopped what they were doing simply to stare.

"I've never seen a house go up that fast."

Frank shrugged.

"Neither had I... until yesterday."

Deep inside the forest, John Miller's crew selected towering white oaks.

He rested his hand against one enormous trunk.

"This one has spent a hundred years growing."

He looked at the men beside him.

"Let's honor it by wasting nothing."

Notches were chopped.

The long crosscut saw bit deeply into the wood.

"Timber!"

The giant oak leaned.

Branches trembled.

Then the forest shook as the tree struck the earth.

The men immediately trimmed the branches and cut the trunk into twelve-foot logs.

Jody, the faithful draft horse, patiently dragged each log into a growing pile.

One newcomer wiped sweat from his forehead.

"I've never worked harder."

John smiled.

"Neither has that tree."

Near the creek the first sawmill slowly came to life.

The waterwheel groaned.

The great blade hesitated.

Then it began its steady up-and-down rhythm.

Fresh-cut boards emerged one after another.

The smell of green oak filled the air.

Samuel stood beside Elias watching the machinery.

"It works."

Elias smiled.

"It always wanted to."

Samuel laughed.

"I suppose all it needed was someone to build it."

Jacob Yoder walked slowly between long rows of drying bricks.

He paused beside a young man whose first brick looked more like a loaf of bread than a building block.

Jacob picked it up thoughtfully.

"You know..."

The young fellow braced for criticism.

"...I've seen worse."

The crew burst into laughter.

Jacob handed it back.

"Make another."

By afternoon every newcomer had learned that Jacob rarely wasted words.

When he finally said, "That's a good brick," a fellow remembered it.

As evening approached, Rebecca walked to the supper bell hanging from its wooden post.

She struck it with a hammer.

The clear ringing floated across the valley.

Axes stopped.

Hammers became silent.

The sawmill slowed to a stop.

Even Jody seemed to know the workday had ended.

People came from every direction, dusty, tired, and smiling.

The women had transformed the old hay barn into a dining hall.

Long tables stretched from one end to the other.

Hot stew.

Fresh bread.

Butter.

Milk.

Apple preserves.

There was enough for everyone.

Samuel stood quietly near the doorway watching families fill the benches.

Only yesterday they had been strangers.

Tonight they passed bowls to one another like neighbors who had lived together for years.

Buck stepped beside him.

"Not bad for three days' work."

Samuel looked around the crowded barn.

"We didn't build much today."

Buck stared at him in disbelief.

"Didn't build much?"

Samuel nodded toward the families sharing supper.

"The houses can wait another day."

He smiled.

"Today we built trust."

Outside, beyond the glow of lantern light, the valley settled into peaceful silence.

Tomorrow there would be more trees to fell.

More bricks to mold.

More homes to raise.

But tonight, beneath God's stars and inside the shelter of the Glove, humanity had taken another step toward becoming whole again.