One Light Still Shines: My Life Beyond the Shadow of the Amish Schoolhouse Shooting
Marie Monville, Cindy Lambert
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
“My story is not about my past, but about your future,” says Marie Roberts Monville.
In the startling tragedy of the Amish schoolhouse shooting at Nickel Mines, one story has never been told; Marie Roberts Monville, the wife of the man who created such horror, tells her story for the very first time. It is a story of sorrow and destruction, but also one of majestic deliverance, unending compassion, breathtaking forgiveness, and grace-filled redemption.
Within a solitary moment, Marie Monville realized that life, as she knew it, was over. What she never anticipated was a tangible encounter with God reaching into her circumstances, through them rewriting all she believed about herself, her faith, and the God she thought she knew. One Light Still Shines reveals three love stories: the innocent love of a devoted wife for a husband in pain, the incomprehensible love of God in the aftermath of massacre and destruction, and the redemptive love of Christ, waiting to unfold in the life of every person who reads this book.
Marie's journey since that darkest of days has been invaded with light which shines through these pages into the darkest questions we all face--questions about our past, our value, our identity, and own powerlessness in this fallen world. Come face to face with the Power behind every answer―a love that begs to be received.
hearts, jolting us to the core. If I could change one thing about the way this fallen world works, I cried out to God at the time, I would see to it that no parent would ever have to endure the grief of burying a child. How grateful I am now, looking back, that my future was hidden from me. At the time, the loss of our baby daughter seemed more than I could bear. How could I have survived the knowledge that the loss of our daughter would one day trigger the unspeakable murders of five little
the remaining girls inside, reinforcing the doorway and windows with lumber to cut off any hope of escape or rescue. I listened in stunned horror to the officer’s words, the images too unbearable to absorb. Charlie, my Charlie, the daddy who cuddled with Abigail and romped with Bryce and Carson, had ordered the girls to line up, then bound the feet of these precious little Amish girls and, one by one, shot them, execution-style. Then Charlie had turned a gun on himself. My husband was dead. At
bathroom but separated out Charlie’s things before throwing the clothes into the washer. I couldn’t bring myself to wash any of Charlie’s clothes. I’d leave them in a basket for a while. In some strange way, it afforded me the chance to momentarily escape the harsh reality of my life. If his things are here in our room, then life is normal and none of this is real. I spent the next few hours doing every load of laundry and putting my ransacked belongings back where they belonged. By the wee
media, as well as the drop-off location for gifts and supplies for the Amish community and for us. Most of the on-air reports, I was told, took place with the fire hall as the backdrop. The day for the meeting came a few weeks after we returned home. I was nervous as I walked with my parents just a few doors down the street from their home to the fire hall. My memory paints this as a cloudy, gray day. Puddles lingered on the ground from rain in previous days, and the air felt chill and raw. The
touched me, and changed my emotional reference point. My Shepherd carrying me in his arms, right there in the middle of the ocean! 16 laughter It was 9:00 p.m. and my kids were sleeping peacefully on this January night. I sat on the recliner in our dimly lit family room, the fireplace flickering in front of me. I was waiting for a call from Dan Monville. Other than Dan’s Thanksgiving call, I couldn’t remember a single time in the past ten years when a man (aside from guys in the family) had