One Light Still Shines: My Life Beyond the Shadow of the Amish Schoolhouse Shooting

by Marie Monville

  I loved his simplistic view of the world, but I was thankful that Dan and his kids weren’t in our car, as I’m sure my face turned several shades of red. But the conversation between Bryce and me that followed confirmed my suspicions: He loved Dan too. Abigail, while far more reserved than Bryce, smiled and nodded as she listened.

  I savored the moment. Marriage, a husband, a father for my children — it was coming faster than I had ever expected. The kids’ expressions reminded me of my prayers: They have to love him like I do, I had prayed. Open their hearts to love and trust again.

  As their mom, I wanted to make the best decision every time. I was far from perfect, I knew, but even so, my choices, wise or foolish, had a tremendous impact upon their lives. That responsibility was continually on my mind. I was shaping our present, directing their future. I wanted them to have confidence in all that God had planned. And yet there was an obstacle: They had been broken. Trust and love, once given and received freely with their daddy, had been suddenly shattered. I believed God was restoring hope inside their hearts, just as he was in mine. This conversation in the car was a reassuring glimpse that their hopes for the future included Dan, Nicole, and DJ.

  Though our children were embracing the growing bond between our families, there were others in our lives far less enthusiastic. Out of deep respect for my entire family, my side and Charlie’s, I’d been careful to keep them informed that Dan and I were dating. I understood the cautions I was hearing. Had I been on the outside looking in, I too would be speaking words of caution. I could see that it might appear that I was traveling at light speed through events that needed to be taken in slow motion.

  What they hadn’t experienced was God’s powerful presence and guidance for me and Dan simultaneously, even though neither of us had been aware of how God was working in the other. And although it was true that Charlie had been gone for only four months by this time, in those months I felt I had lived two lifetimes worth of pain and grief and two lifetimes worth of deepening faith. I continually laid it at the feet of Jesus, knowing that only he could free me from the pain of the necessity to “prove myself.”

  The words of God were my counsel. Hosea 2:14 – 15 says:

  “Therefore I am now going to allure her;

  I will lead her into the wilderness

  and speak tenderly to her.

  There I will give her back her vineyards,

  and will make the Valley of Achor [a place of

  trouble] a door of hope.”

  Since Charlie’s death, God had been teaching me to love the wilderness almost as much as I loved the mountaintop. Both were a part of God’s love story written into our lives. I was certain that God was giving me back my “vineyards” in Dan. It shouldn’t have surprised me when I began to see a much-needed new strength being chiseled into my soul. I had always been a people pleaser. Now it was clear that simply pleasing Jesus was my priority.

  With that perspective, rather than getting defensive, I welcomed questions from those who had shared a deep bond of relational trust with me over the years. These friends didn’t come to tell me I was wrong; rather, they cautiously assessed my reasoning. I could see their desire to protect and shield me. So I shared with them what God had been doing in me, in Dan, and in the kids, and I asked them to pray. I welcomed every request for God’s wisdom for us all.

  I will never forget my mom’s irrepressible joy one afternoon as I sat at her kitchen table.

  “Marie,” she said, “you know that Bible-reading plan I’ve been working through? The other morning, I was reading in Genesis 30, the story of Rachel. She’d been unable to bear children, so, as they did in those days, she chose her servant girl, Bilhah, and gave her to her husband, Jacob, to sleep with. Bilhah bore a son for Jacob and Rachel. You will never believe what verse 6 says she named her son, and why.”

  I had no idea where Mom was going with this story, but she was so excited I couldn’t wait to hear.

  She read, “ ‘Then Rachel said, “God has vindicated me; he has listened to my plea and given me a son.” Because of this she named him Dan.’ Marie, I felt God telling me that he has chosen Dan to redeem your loss of Charlie. The biblical Dan took away the shame Rachel felt and restored joy to her life. Dan’s love will take away your shame, redeem your status, and restore your joy.”

  In my mother’s words — my practical, protective, God-honoring mother — I heard God’s confirmation that it was his voice Dan and I were following. I would press on, steadfastly maintaining my grasp upon the joy and peace sustaining every step.

  January turned to February. Hours, days, weeks moved too slowly for me. I wanted to push it faster. I was in love! Dan and I had settled into the realization that we were, indeed, heading toward marriage within the year. We would need to find a new home where we could make new memories with our children. We began searching but without telling the kids, since we wanted to share the news of our engagement first. And so far, there was no official engagement. Dan had not yet actually proposed.

  Valentine’s Day was approaching, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it would bring a ring to my finger. Meanwhile, Dan and I found time here and there to house hunt. After touring a number of homes, we liked best the first one we’d looked at. The listing agent for that house called our Realtor early Friday afternoon, the weekend before Valentine’s Day, to say that she was expecting another offer. If we wanted to make an offer, now was the time to do it.

  We were stunned. This wasn’t the timing we had planned. I wanted my children to be able to stay in their current school until summer break, and then begin their next grade in their new school. Was this God’s way of ensuring that they’d be settled in before their change of school? We asked God for wisdom.

  We decided to put in an offer. Our Realtor called the following day — the offer had been accepted!

  A brand-new home awaited our family, every detail custom designed by the One who knew our deepest needs. It was almost too much to take in.

  We were content to wait on sharing this news with the kids and our family, wanting to do everything in proper order — marriage first, house together second.

  It dawned on me that I, as a loving parent, knew the home I was preparing for my children — new dad, new school, new house, new life — but they didn’t know because it was not yet time for them to know. Dan and I would reveal it at the perfect moment. How much more does our heavenly Father have our future planned — a future filled with good gifts, every need met, every purpose fulfilled? And yet we won’t know those details until God chooses to reveal them at the proper time. My children didn’t need to worry about the big questions of housing and schooling; they could trust me as their parent to care for their needs.

  God grew larger in my finite mind that day. My trust grew with him.

  Dan was a thoughtful romantic, constantly surprising me with expressions of love — handmade gift certificates to wash my car or rub my shoulders, unexpected flowers, cards tucked under a pillow on the couch. One day he scheduled an e-card to be delivered once an hour for an entire day. Because of that, I held high expectations for the quickly approaching holiday. To my dismay, there was snow in the Valentine’s forecast. That might interfere with Dan’s ability to visit, since I lived in rural Georgetown and he lived just outside of Strasburg, about ten miles away. It also meant shoveling — a task that had fallen to me as a child while my dad worked, and as an adult when Charlie worked. The prospect of snow annoyed me.

  In continuous motion, my brain never stopped, always thinking, preparing, and planning. When will he ask me to marry him? I had a family reputation for typically unraveling secret plans prematurely through too much thinking. I did want Dan to surprise me, but for that to happen I needed to stop pondering and analyzing every move, which seemed impossible.

  Dan and I had registered for a marriage conference held the weekend after Valentine’s Day. The program included special sessions for engaged and remarried couples. Eager to do all we cou
ld to form a deep, stable foundation, we signed up. I didn’t want to attend without a ring on my finger. Dan knew this, so I was sure the pivotal question would arrive before the conference. Maybe he would ask on Valentine’s Day!

  February 14 arrived as predicted, covered in snow. This is going to ruin everything, I pouted. I might not see Dan at all this day. Instead, I would spend it shoveling — and playing outside with the kids, which was, at least, a bright spot.

  As any mother of young children in a snowy climate will confirm, it takes a lot of time to sufficiently dress three children for an afternoon of playing in the snow. But it was worth it — I enjoyed every second of their rosy cheeks, their laughter, and their snowballs, sleds, and snow angels. I had planned a special meal of a few of their favorite dishes in celebration, on this day devoted to love, of my love for my three children. I couldn’t change the weather or its effect on my spending time with Dan, but I wasn’t going to allow it to ruin the beauty of all that lay before me.

  But all was well: Dan surprised us when he pulled into the driveway with a carload of shovels and salt. In no time, he had cleared my walkways and driveway. While thankful for his help, I was disappointed that he couldn’t stay for dinner. He needed to get home before darkness fell and the predicted winds picked up, making travel more treacherous. Before leaving, he handed out candy to the kids — and handed me a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. “Think of me while you’re eating these tonight,” he said with a sly grin. It was a sweet thought, pun intended — but not quite what I’d hoped for on this Valentine’s Day. I reminded myself to love the moment and let go of my expectations.

  Lord, you’re graciously guiding me through the firestorm of the shooting and the wilderness left in its wake. You’ve taught me to trust, to expect to see you at work, to love the moment, confident that you are always creating us with the future in mind. Yes, I see how silly my current impatience is in light of all you have done for me. Help me trust you with Dan’s timing as well. I prayed it and meant it.

  Living it was another matter. Oh, what love can do to us!

  Daily routines consumed the rest of the week. Life felt good — unless you were expecting a moment of revolutionary change in the form of one little question.

  Friday came. The conference drew closer by the hour, yet there was still no ring. I was frustrated but determined to put the frustration behind me and glean what I could from the conference.

  Our one-hour drive to the conference was made in complete silence. I knew I had to do something to break the tension and to soothe my disappointment. As we pulled into the parking lot, I said, “I’m not getting out of the car until everything is okay. I’m not going into a marriage conference with a problem hanging over us.”

  Dan said, “It didn’t go according to plan. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry that I’ve disappointed you.”

  I could tell by his comments and his tone of voice that he was up to something, and I felt guilty for inflicting him with my disappointment. I apologized. I would have to continue working on the virtue of patience.

  Saturday night was listed as a “date night” on the conference schedule. That was no surprise — it had been explained in the basic information we were given when we’d registered weeks before. Guys were strongly encouraged to plan a romantic date to share with their wife or fiancée. The conference leaders explained that this was to be an evening of heartfelt sincerity. Knowing Dan, I anticipated nothing short of perfection.

  The conference ended for the day at around 5:00 p.m. Saturday night.

  “We’re heading back toward Lancaster,” Dan explained. I tried to tease out of him the special place he had chosen for us.

  And he told me. Out of the immense selection of great local restaurants available to us, we were eating at a sports grill place at the mall.

  He has to be joking, I thought, figuring that he was up to some fantastic surprise.

  And I was in for a surprise. He pulled into the parking lot of the sports grill. It was not a joke. First, I’m not a sports fan, and second, I did not want to eat in a loud environment with televisions blaring hockey and other sports. As he put his name on the waiting list — they didn’t take reservations — I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, knowing he was a romantic, but as the minutes passed, my ability to be gracious wore thin.

  He suggested that we do a little shopping each on our own while we waited for our table. He made a purchase and decided to take the bag out to the car, leaving me to browse on my own until he returned. I had told my close friend Deanna that I was expecting Dan to propose tonight, and now I dialed her from my cell and filled her in on the frustrating details of how poorly the evening was going. She listened and commiserated but encouraged me to give Dan the benefit of the doubt. I’d been giving him that benefit every step of the evening thus far, I explained, my exasperation clear in my voice.

  When we were finally seated at our table, Dan rushed through dinner, not even offering to order an appetizer or dessert! Had he missed the entire idea of the special date emphasized at the conference? I fumed inside. I would rather have dessert than dinner! What is his problem? He hurriedly paid the bill, and when we got out to the car, he made a move toward opening my door, but I scooted around and beat him to it. If he was in such a rush, I’d help bring this night to a close.

  “Would you like to drive past our new house?” Dan asked. We hadn’t been back in the week since submitting the offer.

  “I don’t think so,” I replied. “The snow’s over six inches deep, the place will be dark, and we don’t have the key yet.” I was dressed for a special date, I thought — not an outdoor adventure!

  But Dan insisted. He pulled up to the curb, got out, and walked up to the house, making fresh tracks in six inches of pristine, powdery glory. I waited a minute, wondering if he was serious. His feet were clad in heavy men’s shoes and socks; I wore ballet flats. He turned and motioned for me to join him. I waited a moment more, then opened my own car door and tried to place my feet in the tracks he’d made.

  We stood in silence for a few minutes. Light radiated off the snow, casting a glow that seemed to dispel the darkness of my frustration. Dan reached for my hand. He offered warmth — I was cold. This exchange, while simple, melted the coldness still lingering in me. God had sent Dan to love me, a gift unexpected and wondrously delivered.

  Suddenly my heart was pierced by guilt. In the past few hours, Dan had tried to create a beautiful evening. And while it hadn’t been what I’d envisioned, at least it had held purpose and love. I had no right to say it lacked beauty and delight.

  Then, as I turned and looked into Dan’s eyes, he dropped to one knee and pulled a velvet box from his pocket. “Marie, will you marry me?”

  I was speechless! I reached for him, pulled him close, and said, “Yes!” He slid the ring onto my finger. Then, shaking his head, he said, “You have no idea how hard this has been!”

  Dan Monville saw the worst of me on the night that forever shaped our destiny. I am still amazed at his courage to persist in the face of my attitude.

  As we stood on the porch together, his arms wrapped securely around me, he began to pray. He dedicated our lives, our family, and our marriage to the Creator of all. His words cascaded over me. I was home.

  On the drive home, Dan shared the tale of his misadventures to find the perfect ring and plan the perfect proposal. He had ordered several different styles in the past weeks, but in each case he’d felt that they weren’t quite right and sent them back. The ring he’d given me had been scheduled to arrive days before, but the winter storm had delayed deliveries. He had planned to propose much sooner than this night, he explained, relieved to finally be able to let me in on what he’d been going through. The reason he’d chosen the sports restaurant was because it was close to the jewelry store, and the ring is what he’d taken out to the car when he’d abandoned me in the mall.

  The more he explained, the faster he talked, and the more adorable he was
to me. I laughed, buzzing inside with excitement and amazed at the love and attention to detail he’d invested. He laughed with me.

  “And poor Deanna!” he said, still laughing.

  “What about her?” I couldn’t imagine what he was referring to.

  “We’ve both been calling her all evening,” he said, laughing even harder at my shocked look. “I called her this morning and told her my plan for the night. While you were calling her complaining, I was calling asking her to calm you down.”

  “No! Really? Oh, Dan, she was in on it? She knew about the ring?” We laughed ourselves silly telling each other what she’d said.

  It was a night I will never forget!

  I wore my ring to the conference the following morning but took it off before I picked up the kids at my parents’ house later in the day. Dan was off work on Monday, as were our children for Presidents’ Day. We had already planned breakfast together at my house. We would share the news with them then — not just the engagement, but the house as well.

  That morning when we told them, our kids erupted in enthusiastic celebration, fireworks exploding in each and every heart.

  I will always be in awe of you, I prayed.

  19

  seven candles

  I took a deep breath and dialed the number for one of Charlie’s brothers. It was important to me that Charlie’s immediate family hear the news of my engagement directly from me. I could only imagine how difficult it might be for them. Would they feel I was trying to replace Charlie? Trying to usurp their part in the lives of Abigail, Bryce, and Carson? Not at all — I wanted my children to remain deeply connected to Charlie’s family so that they could discover more of who their father had been and enjoy their connection with him.

  Charlie’s brother was glad to hear from me, and we spent a few minutes catching up on the kids. Finally, I told him of my engagement. I held my breath through what felt like a very long pause, realizing how fearful I was of his disapproval.