When the Walls Come Tumbling Down

You never forget the day that changes your life forever. The day that turns your heart and your family upside down. But when that day begins, you don’t realize it’s anything out of the ordinary.

It was February 19, 2002, and my husband of nine years, Chris, and I were just getting settled into our new home in Edmond, Oklahoma. He had come out six weeks earlier on his own to begin his ministry with LifeChurch.tv as the worship pastor of the Edmond Campus. I had stayed behind in Memphis to wrap up the sale of our home there. But now we and our almost three-year-old son, Noah, were happily back together under one roof.

On this morning, while Chris was at the church, I was doing the usual stuff that nesters do. I unpacked boxes, fought with bubble wrap, and put away our belongings in the kitchen, the bathrooms, and the rest of the house. I was enjoying the process and thought how good it was to prepare our new home for this new life we had prayed about so fervently.

And then Chris came home unexpectedly at 9:30.

I was about to ask why he was back from work so soon, but the worried expression on his face stopped me from saying anything. He asked if we could talk. The request sounded so formal and distant that my heart raced as I quickly and silently got Noah settled in front of our TV with a Blue’s Clues video and inched my way along a narrow path around stacks of boxes and toward Chris. My mind was spinning in anticipation of what might come out of his mouth.

Had one of our parents died or been in an accident? Had the church changed their mind about adding Chris to the staff?

Chris motioned me to the newly purchased sofa, and we sat down together. I tried to look into his handsome green eyes for reassurance. But those amazing, clear eyes that had captivated me the day we met years before were now downcast. I waited for him to reassure me that all was well in this new life. But instead of words of comfort, the man I had prayed for as a young woman, long before I knew him, was about to share news that would alter the course of our lives in unimaginable ways.

The Prayers of a Young Woman

I first prayed for my future husband while I was serving as a summer missionary on a Native American reservation in Wyoming. Although this ministry experience would become one of the best challenges and inspirations in my life and faith journey, the day I had to say goodbye to my mom at the Austin, Texas, airport was an unhappy one. The cute denim jumper with the cheery sailor collar I wore did little to dress up my sadness at having to leave her and my home to be 1200 miles away for 11 weeks. It felt like a world and a lifetime apart.

The first couple of weeks proved to be difficult. My tear-stained cheeks initially put a damper on the adventure. But eventually I understood that I needed this time to grow up and learn to rely on God.

And I did.

I learned a lot about the woman I would become. I not only learned to lean on God but also discovered that I had a voice and something to say and something worth sharing. I learned that not all things make sense when you follow Christ. And I realized it’s okay to not have an answer for everything. In fact, it’s actually more authentic and appealing when you don’t.

In the midst of my time of learning about God, about others, and most definitely about myself, I had a longing in my heart for true love. The kind of love that would lead me to say to someone special, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” And I wasn’t the type of girl who had to have a boyfriend on her arm at all times. For one thing, I was taller than most guys my age. This is hardly an asset for a young girl’s dating potential. I also possessed an independent spirit, and I liked the freedom I was experiencing during this stage of life.

Still, this longing for true love grew. I would be turning 21 soon, and although there isn’t a guideline or time frame that says young women should fall in love by this age, I definitely wouldn’t have pushed the opportunity away. If       it was the right guy, you understand. My right guy.

One particular July night during that summer mission, I stared out at the beautiful mountains bathed in sunset’s glow and began praying for others and for my future husband. At that moment, the idea popped into my head—thank You, Holy Spirit—that maybe I should pray for my husband’s salvation. So I did.

I prayed that my future husband would have the character, personality, talents, passions, and even the looks that matched up with the list I made about the man of my dreams. I didn’t think I was asking for much. Just the moon, the stars, and everything in between. Why not, right?

I first saw Chris Beall at a barn dance in November 1991. We couldn’t take our eyes off each other. He wasn’t the best dresser, nor did he have a model-perfect smile, but he held my gaze with those intoxicating green eyes. I was smitten almost immediately.

Almost.

It would be a few more months before anything actually began between us. He started frequenting the Baptist Student Union on our campus for our Wednesday lunches. Within a few weeks, at one of those lunches, he asked me for a dinner date the following Monday. I didn’t have to agonize with anticipation for five days. Instead, he came to my church on Sunday and invited me out to lunch with a group of friends. There was so much excitement and “I can’t believe this is really happening” in the air that by Sunday evening, we found ourselves sitting on the balcony of my apartment eating mint chocolate chip ice cream and talking about life, family, and mostly about Jesus. And I found out something special about Chris that evening: He’d been a Christ follower for less than a year, and the date that he gave his life to Christ was July 7, 1991—the summer that the Holy Spirit led me to pray for my future husband’s salvation.

Big sigh.

I knew with every part of my being that Chris Beall was the one for me. I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. I knew it in my knower and felt it in my feeler. But what I didn’t know was that the very next day he made a down payment on my wedding ring.

Ten months later, on January 9, 1993, we became husband and wife.

We were so madly in love with Jesus and each other that we were certain we’d conquer it all. We never would have guessed that the road we’d travel together over the course of our marriage would be anything but bliss.

Love was completely blind in our case. It’s a good thing, because little did I know that around year nine, we’d get our sight back.

Confession

I sat down next to Chris on our new couch, and as he began speaking, my throat went dry and my eyes stung with hot tears. Even though shock was making it hard for my mind to make sense of the words and phrases and sentences, my heart and soul took it all in with great sorrow. Chris wasn’t communicating the news that someone we loved was hurt. He was confessing that he, the person I loved most in the world, had hurt and betrayed me in the deepest way.

Chris had been unfaithful.

I was now trembling head to foot as my mind continued to spin with disbelief. I felt nauseous as the confession continued. He had been unfaithful with more than one woman. In fact, he had been with many women in many different places over the course of the past two and a half years.

While I listened, the very real physical pain of a heart breaking took me by surprise. And as I struggled to keep breathing, Chris forced himself to speak the last part of his confession through trembling lips: One of the women was pregnant, and he was pretty sure the baby was his child.

He kept his eyes on me. He didn’t look away for a minute, even when my face clearly changed. His eyes were tender, and I could tell he was devastated by watching me. He didn’t reach out for me right away. He seemed to be in shock that he was actually confessing. Then, as the reality set in of what his news was doing to my heart, he began to cry.

Many angry thoughts could have rushed through my mind at that point, but the unfathomable absurdity of this surreal, frozen moment in time triggered one thought over and over, “You have got to be kidding me!”

He was definitely not kidding.

He sat there just waiting for me to respond. I was stunned and couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. I sifted through emotions and terms for emotions. It was none of them specifically and all of them collectively. Bewildered. Stunned. Shocked. Overwhelmed. Befuddled. Floored. Jolted. Nauseated. Sickened. Disturbed. Crushed. Dismayed. Paralyzed.

Ticked off. And that’s putting it nicely.

The truth is that I still can’t tell you to this day how I felt in those first few moments. What I can tell you is that I was keenly aware that my world as I knew it was forever changed. I woke up that morning a relatively comfortable housewife and stay-at-home mom, and within a couple of hours I became a seriously damaged woman with a marriage on the brink of destruction.

We had both made vows to forsake all others for the rest of our lives. I had kept my vow. He had not. Even when the distance between us grew, I kept mine. He had not. Even when other men showed interest in me, I kept mine. He had not. Even when days came where I didn’t even want to spend time with him, I kept mine. He had not.

When the Walls Fall Down

I was deeply wounded by the truth about the lies that poured from my loved one that morning. I ached not only for me but also for the new church that had hired and embraced Chris. For our son. For our families. For our friends. As the walls of the life we had built came tumbling down, hard realization after hard realization, I felt them crush the foundations of our shared life and the dreams of this new chapter we were entering.

Can you relate to that kind of letdown? Destruction? Betrayal? When the walls have fallen down with such force that you could not breathe beneath the pressure of the debris or see beyond the dust of the rubble?

My spirit was broken that morning. My heart was shattered. Thoughts of moving forward in life or taking positive action would have sounded absurd had anyone been there to suggest them. I could barely conceive of moving my body from that place on the couch. In fact, the only reason I was able to stand up and move was that the impulse to step away from Chris was so strong. I wanted to be as removed from him physically as I felt from him emotionally in that moment. I had never, ever felt so alone.

If you are feeling alone, know that I am here to journey with you, and so is God. He already desires to make you whole, even as the pieces of your known existence seem to be scattered to every corner of the universe. If the walls have tumbled and you cannot recognize truth from lies in the remains, know that God’s grace and power to transform your life are right there in the midst of the debris.

Hold on to your belief in redemption.

I kept mine. Please keep yours as we walk together toward healing.

Your Healing Journey

Has your spouse ever caught you off guard with a heartbreaking confession? If so, what was your initial response?

Have you ever had to make a confession that you knew would break your loved one’s heart? What finally helped you break your cycle of lies?

Have you ever received news that altered your life in a dramatic way? What was it, and how did you handle it? If you are able, take yourself back there mentally and allow God to bring healing as you grieve what you lost and as you journey through this book.

What happens when we bottle up our emotions and choose not to deal with them? Do you know people who do this ? Has this been you? How can you become more able to share or express your emotions?

Discuss ways you can remain committed to your marriage even when you don’t feel like it or when circumstances have caused a lack of connection between you and your spouse.

Shanna Stoltzfus felt something brush against her hair, just above her left ear. She swatted at it. When she touched flesh, she jumped, her attempts to pray forgotten, and raised her head from the steering wheel to see maple-stained fingers, complete with calluses and a small cut.

The hand pulled back. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?” a deep voice asked.

She looked up into incredible gray eyes belonging to a drop-dead-gorgeous Amish man. He grasped his straw hat in the long fingers of his right hand. His light brown hair shone with natural blond highlights. She’d paid big bucks for streaks like those. He also had a strong, clean-shaven jaw. Nice. Too bad he hadn’t been around when she’d been Amish. She definitely would have noticed a hunk like this. Might even have considered staying.

“Lost, maybe? I can direct you back to the main road. Where did you want to go?”

“Anyplace but here. Mexico sounds good.” She swallowed her trepidation and aimed what she hoped was a wry smile at him. When she reached for the door handle, he stepped out of the way. “You must be the houseguest Mamm mentioned in her letters. Matthew Yoder from Pennsylvania?” She swung her legs out of the car and extended a hand. “I’m Shanna.”

“Shanna.” He seemed to freeze. A little smile played on his lips. “Shanna,” he repeated.

She didn’t know quite what to think. He said her name as if it meant something special. Then, he blinked. “I’m Matthew, jah.”

He held out his hand, but before his hand could touch hers, she fixed her gaze on his brown fingers. He hesitated and then rubbed his hands together, as if to check to see if the stain was still damp. Then, he pulled back. “Shanna.”

His tongue seemed to trip over her name this time. Or maybe he’d heard some negative things about her. Her stomach churned. She shouldn’t be here. But where else could she go?

“I guess they are expecting you?”

“No. Not really.” Shanna stood and looked up at him. The top of her head barely reached his jaw.

His gaze skimmed over her. She wondered what he thought as he studied her faded jeans, T-shirt, and flip-flops. She looked down at her toenails. Good, they were painted with pink polish. Except the paint on one of her big toes had a huge chip. She wished she could reach for the bottle and repair the damage. As his gaze traveled back up, she repressed the urge to smooth her hair. It wouldn’t have done much good, anyway. She’d driven the whole way with the windows down, so it would be hopelessly tangled.

His forehead wrinkled, and there was no hint of recognition in his eyes when they returned to her face.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Matthew raised his eyebrows and his gaze met hers. “No. Should I?”

Unexpected pain shot through her. Daed had made good on his threat to reject her. “Figures. He probably forbade everybody to say my name. I’m surprised he allowed Mamm to write. Or maybe he doesn’t know.”

Confusion flashed across Matthew’s face. “So, you think your mamm lives here, and she isn’t expecting you?” He shook his head, his lips curling into a sympathetic half smile. “This is the home of Levi and Deborah—”

“Stoltzfus. Yes, I know. I’m their oldest daughter.”

Matthew’s smile slipped, and he blinked, cutting off her view of those gray eyes for a brief moment.

“You know, you have beautiful eyes.” She stepped closer, then turned to shut the car door. “My things are in the back. But I guess maybe we should leave them there until we find out if I’m allowed to stay. Mamm said I would be welcome, but Daed has the final say, you know.” She bit her lip and tried to force her fear of the imminent confrontation out of her mind. It didn’t work. And since her little brothers and sisters hadn’t gathered around to welcome her, she wondered if her family was even home. She looked around for the buggy, or some sign of life other than the handsome Matthew. She didn’t notice any.

“Jah. Probably should wait.” He blinked again when she turned to face him.

“Well, shall we?” She walked past him, around the front of the car, and toward the porch. At the top step, she hesitated and glanced back. Matthew stood where she’d left him, watching her. He didn’t even try to hide it by looking away. A shiver worked through her, but she ignored it. He’d probably never met anyone like her before. Daed always said she was too outspoken. She sighed. “I guess I should ask. Where is Daed?”

He motioned behind him. “In the shop.”

“Good.” Postponing her reunion with him would at least give her time to see Mamm and her little sisters before she was kicked off the property.

If that happened, Shanna hoped this gorgeous Amish man wouldn’t witness her humiliation. She felt ashamed enough of her modern clothes, now subject to his intense gaze. She was so under-dressed, she might as well have shown up at a formal event wearing boxer shorts and a paint-spattered T-shirt.

Did Mamm still keep her Amish clothes hanging in her bedroom closet?

She scowled and turned toward the house. It would take more than a good-looking man to get her to change into Amish clothes. She hadn’t been able to wait to leave the Amish life behind, and she wasn’t about to return to it.

Well, she would stay for the summer, if permitted. But no longer than that.

And if Daed wouldn’t let her? She’d deal with that when the time came.

***

Matthew stared at the front door, through which the green-eyed beauty had disappeared after only the briefest look back, as if checking to see if he followed her. And he probably would have, if his feet hadn’t felt rooted to the ground.

He mused over their brief conversation and allowed a smile to play on his lips as he grappled with the sense that he’d glimpsed into his future.

“Shanna,” he whispered her name again.

He hadn’t meant to touch her hair. He’d noticed the open window, and he’d simply reached in to touch her shoulder. But she’d moved, and instead of the soft tap he’d intended, his knuckles had buried themselves in her soft, golden tresses.

Inappropriate.

Even worse, he hadn’t wanted to pull back.

Matthew swallowed, lifted his legs to see if they would still move, and turned toward the shop. He couldn’t remember what he’d needed to go to the house for, anyway. No point in looking like a bigger fool in front of her.

When he pushed the shop door open, Levi looked up from where he stood, hunched over and sanding a wooden chair. “Did you get the key?”

Matthew shook his head. “I forgot what you sent me for.” Ach, this was worse, having to admit to his mindlessness. Heat rose up his neck. “Um, there’s a girl…your daughter. She was in her car. Said something about staying.”

A look of hope flashed across Levi’s face. His shoulders straightened, and a bright smile lit his face and eyes. He put down the sandpaper and moved toward the door, then stopped, his shoulders slumping. “Probably not for long.”

Matthew couldn’t quite read any of the other emotions that flashed across the older man’s face.

“Is she shunned?” Matthew asked hesitantly.

Levi shook his head. “Nein, not formally. But I’d hoped denying her a place in the family would bring her back home.” His expression hardened. “And maybe it would have. But my frau….”

He didn’t need to say more. Matthew nodded in agreement. Shanna had mentioned letters in which her mamm had said she’d be welcome. Deborah must have gone behind Levi’s back and kept in contact with her daughter.

It was none of his business, but he decided to ask, anyway. “Will you allow her to stay?”

He hoped Levi would say “Jah,” the fascinating creature could stay. But another part of him wanted a decidedly firm “Nein.” He hadn’t been around her more than five minutes, and already she’d messed with his insides.

“I don’t know.” Levi scratched his head. “I’ll have to think on it.”

Matthew chuckled. “Maybe in the barn loft.”

Levi’s mouth curved up in a grin. “Might be best.”

“I’m teasing.” Matthew moved toward the door. “I’ll go get the key you wanted. Sorry I forgot it earlier.”

“Jah.” Levi picked up the sandpaper and went back to work. “And I’ll think on it. Gives her a few more minutes with her mamm, anyway, in case I decide not to let her stay.”

***

After hugging Shanna, Mamm resumed peeling apples at the counter, where a recipe for apple turnovers was propped against the flour canister. Shanna picked up a knife to help with paring, as she had countless times before. Mamm chatted nonstop, talking about Shanna’s sisters, who were at friends’ houses today, and about the garden. Not one mention had been made about whether she was permitted to stay. A piece of apple skin dangled from the peeler, ever lengthening as Mamm worked the apple around and around. It had always been a challenge for Shanna to try to pare the entire apple without breaking the strip, like Mamm did.

She’d never succeeded.

Yet another sign of failure. Another reason why she’d never be an Amish frau.

That, combined with the old-fashioned clothes and her intense dislike of the wringer washer. She’d hated that thing ever since getting her hair stuck in it as a young girl. She had always been afraid that the contraption would pull her whole head through the rollers, try to press it flat, as it did the garments, and leave it abnormally shaped.

That was almost reality. Spiritually, she was abnormally shaped. God had never intended her to be Amish. It must have been a fluke for her to have been born into an Amish family.

Shanna pushed the thought away. Why was she even thinking about this stuff? She’d settled it long ago, for pity’s sake, so that she could enroll in college to earn her nursing degree. So that she could live and work in the real world. And wear real clothes. And…well, there were many other benefits of being Englisch.

Yet those scrubs she had to wear to her clinical rotations could hardly be considered real clothes.

Her stomach felt as if a whole flock of Canada geese had landed in it, honking, with wings flapping, as they did when they passed through during migration. It had to be the fault of that young man—the one who’d come out to her car and caused her heart to flip-flop like the bottoms of her sandals.

Matthew Yoder.

A good Amish name, for someone who appeared to be a good Amish man.

As if she’d summoned him by thinking his name, the door opened, and Matthew strode into the room, heading straight for the key rack that hung on the wall. Not that there were many keys hanging there. Why would they need them, when they had absolutely nothing worth stealing? Well, Daed’s tools were valuable. But he was out there with them now, so Matthew would have no need to unlock the shop.

She watched as Matthew lifted down a long skeleton key. The barn key. One of the doors there led up to a loft she’d never been allowed to enter. She didn’t know what Daed kept in there, just that he’d built stairs to replace the ladder leading up to it.

Matthew palmed the key, then turned toward the door, moving with an even stride. Not once did he look in her direction.

Had Daed said something to dispel the friendliness he’d shown her earlier?

Mamm turned around. “Ach, Matthew. I didn’t realize that was you. Kum meet Shanna. She’s our oldest. Attends college up in Springfield.”

Matthew hesitated by the door, then turned, his gaze skimming over her. “Welkum, Shanna.” His tongue didn’t trip over her name so much this time. And he didn’t indicate they had met in the driveway.

“This is Matthew Yoder from Pennsylvania,” Mamm continued. “He came down in the swap I mentioned in my letter, where we traded buwe with a community in Lancaster. Matthew is looking for farmland hereabouts.”

“I hope you can find some,” Shanna said. Farmland wasn’t readily available in this part of Missouri, as far as she knew. But then, she didn’t keep track of such things. She wasn’t in the market for land.

Matthew grinned. “I have my eye on a piece not too far from here. Belongs to an Englischer, so the haus would need some work to be made suitable.”

She knew that would mean taking out the electrical lines, removing the screens from the windows, and installing a woodstove, among other things. All silly rules. Why no screens? Okay, she knew the answer: to keep God’s view unobstructed. But, really. He could see through screens! And keeping the bugs out would hardly prevent people from going to heaven. Shanna shifted her feet to hide her shrug.

“The barn isn’t adequate, so we’d need to have a barn raising to replace that, too,” Matthew went on, as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction. “But that’s if I get the property. I’m praying on it.”

“Might not want to pray too long. Someone might buy it right out from under you,” Shanna quipped.

“Then, that would be God’s will, ain’t so?” Matthew looked into her eyes and held up the key. “I’d best get this out to Levi.”

Mamm put the apple she’d just peeled in the bowl beside her. “Tell him that Sha—his daughter is home.”

So, Daed had forbidden them to mention her name. Nausea roiled within her, and bile rose in her throat. Why was she subjecting herself to this? She shouldn’t have come. Maybe one of those pay-by-the-week establishments in Springfield would have room. If she could afford it.

Matthew’s gaze stayed locked on her. “Ach, he knows. I’m sure he’ll be up in a bit.”

His expression told her nothing. The Canada geese resumed their wild flapping in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was more due to the compassion in those beautiful gray eyes or the news that she’d be facing Daed long before she was ready.

Mamm picked up another apple. “Don’t worry yourself. He’ll let you stay.”

Shanna wasn’t too sure.

A thump sounded on the front porch. Then another.

Shanna clutched her stomach, afraid she’d be ill.

The next second, Daed stood in the doorway.