I had that thought while decorating our Christmas tree this weekend. From a box of tissue wrapped ornaments, I pulled a delicate wooden ornament painted red and green and yellow. “Melkam Gena” it said, which is Amharic for Merry Christmas. I held the ornament for a moment before placing it on the tree, but my mind had traveled back to 2011. We were in the adoption process and had been on the waiting list with Ethiopia for two years. My friend Sue, ever supporting our adoption plans by buying Ethiopian themed gifts and helping us organize fundraising events, had given me the ornament for Christmas. My hope of ever being matched with a waiting child was dwindling, and she wanted to put an ornament on our tree that we could look back on with our child one day so he or she would know how we’d waited for them.

 

The next year, Sue gave me another Ethiopian themed ornament. We were still waiting.

 

The Christmas after that, she gave me an ornament shaped like a coffee mug. We weren’t waiting anymore. And it wasn’t because we’d been matched with a child. It was because the Ethiopian government shut down its international adoption program.

 

I struggled with the abrupt ending of things. We were deeply disheartened to learn the levels of corruption in the international adoption world and understood the reasons for the program closure, but there were still so many legitimate orphans, and we couldn’t get to any of them. Our social worker told us she could reshape and update our homestudy (for the fourth or fifth time) for domestic adoption or we could pursue international adoption again, but we’d have to start from scratch and choose another country. We’d lost years and thousands of dollars while we waited. We’d had a toddler when we started the process and now he was moving through elementary school. It was difficult to know what to do.

 

Nearly three years later, we brought home our son, Ian. He was born in Kansas, not Ethiopia. And, just like his older brother, he was the child I longed for all those years of waiting. I just didn’t know it was him.

 

____

 

I read a piece by Seth Lewis recently titled “Wanting What I Already Have,” and I knew precisely what he meant when he told his children what he wanted most when he was growing up. “This. Exactly this.” And yet, this isn’t exactly what I pictured. We seldom get everything we want in life, but when you look around at how God has been good to you in the ways you didn’t seek out or dream up and find that it is what you really want, contentment becomes something you can actually grasp.

 

When I was a little girl, I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. Carting around baby dolls and “playing house,” I knew I wanted to be a mom more than anything else. Even as a college student, I couldn’t put my finger on a real career path. “Mom” was the title I coveted most, second only to “wife.” What a surprise then when it turned out that the dream I’d held and assumed my entire life became the one thing I couldn’t have. “It’s unlikely that you’ll ever have children,” the doctor said to me when I was just twenty-four. And just like that, the only future I’d ever imagined imploded. It shattered, shards of hopes and dreams raining down and cutting me with grief. I couldn’t picture any kind of alternate future in which I would be happy.

 

But I was wrong.

 

Three years later, we brought home our son, Isaiah. He was born in Illinois, just across the river from St. Louis. I’ll never forget the weird looks we used to get back then when I—blonde and blue eyed and as pale as the driven snow—pushed my brown skinned, dark eyed, curly haired son in the cart through the grocery store. He’s sixteen and 6’2” now and we laugh when we get the odd look here and there, but back then it was different, less acceptable to be a mixed-race family. When my grandmother held Isaiah for the first time, she said, “Maybe this will fix things.” I don’t know that she had the gift of prophecy, but with a heart for racial reconciliation in the church before it was popular, she was thinking ahead of her time. 

 

And indeed, she was right. The adoption of our first son—and later our second son—set off a chain of events that have forever changed my life, my church, and my view of the world. You don’t always get to connect the dots and see God’s mysterious movements, but in this case, I can. (Sarah Zylstra connected those dots for you to read here.)

 

It's been a long time since Sue gave me the Melkam Gena ornament. Sue herself has been with the Lord for over three years now. It might seem silly to put an ornament on my tree that represents a country I’ve never set foot in nor adopted a child from. But when I placed it on the tree the other day, I remembered why I kept it all these years. 

 

It tells a story I did not write.

 

This is not the life I planned. It is not the life I pictured. It has long gaps of waiting so deep I barely survived. My family portrait looks more different than I could ever have guessed it would. Even the goal of leveraging my infertility to become an advocate for orphan care didn’t pan out the way I’d hoped. I needed my losses to matter, but I couldn’t make them so.

 

And yet, if you asked me what is it that I wanted when I was the little girl dreaming up a future for herself, I’d echo Seth Lewis: “This. Exactly this.” Because the life God has given me is exactly the one I needed but didn’t know to ask for. Somehow, it is the one I want more than the one I thought I wanted. I didn’t even know to want this version of my life.

 

I held up the wooden ornament and showed it to my husband before placing it on the tree. A symbol of an almost-life. A reminder of our circuitous path to Ian. Kansas via Ethiopia. The path that was so hard to walk, and yet I’ve never been gladder we were led there. Sometimes God cancels your good plans to accomplish His best plan. It might not feel good in the canceling. In fact, it might feel like you’re forgotten. Or that you’re failing or doing something wrong. You can’t connect the dots and see His mysterious movements. Maybe you never will in this life.

 

But—trust Him.

 

He moves in ways that our minds can’t quite chart, and yet, He has never done anything in your life that He won’t redeem, recycle, or resuscitate. When I teach on suffering or waiting, I often explain it like this: If you had all of God’s perfect knowledge, His perfect holiness, his perfect goodness, His perfect justice, and His perfect love, you’d have written the story of your life the way He has done. You can trust Him with the ending He’s written. Because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, it’s the best ending possible. And it’s yours. 

Just in time for Advent, I've got a book for you to read this Christmas season. My singer/songwriter friend, Caroline Cobb, has written Advent for Exiles: 25 Devotions to Awaken Gospel Hope in Every Longing Heart.  

 

I asked Caroline to share a little about her book with you all, and here is what she had to say:

I wrote Advent for Exiles to help you make ready for the arrival of Jesus - both His first and His second. But I'll be honest, this book isn't your typical feel-good Christmas devotional fare. In these pages, you'll find thorns, ashes, and the homesick groan of exile. Every section takes an honest look at the darkness around and within us so that we might receive Jesus, the Light of the world, with greater joy.

 

The song lyrics, responsive exercises, biblical imagery, and artwork in this devotional are meant to engage your imagination - helping you feel the ache of exile at a gut level - even as the Scripture readings and reflections ground you in the truth of God's Word. I'm praying this combination provides a unique Advent experience, helping the gospel "dwell richly" in you this December (Col. 3:16).

This year, if you’re looking for an Advent companion that feels unique, imaginative, honest, and theologically-rich, I’m praying you might find it in Advent for Exiles. As I sing often, “I’m a steward of the Story as the moon reflects the light, so if you see Him and forget me, I’ve told this Story right.”

If you're looking for something to read and engage with for Advent, grab your copy of Advent for Exiles: 25 Devotions to Awaken Gospel Hope in Every Longing Heart. 

From Black Friday to Cyber Monday, Moody Publishers is selling every single book they've published for 50% off! If you've been on the fence about ordering my book, Memorizing Scripture, now is the time to get your copy. 

Actually, at this rate you can get several, download the free discussion and group memorization guide, and read it with some friends! 

I traveled to Midlothian, VA last week and taught four times at their fall women's conference. It was such a treat to meet readers from the Richmond and D.C. area. If you're reading this and were there—thank you for making that such a sweet trip! Writing is a solitary activity, so when I meet readers in person, I picture them and remember their stories when I get home and turn my face back to the blank screen and keyboard. 

 

Here are a few pictures from the event at Swift Creek Baptist Church, courtesy of Created Photography.

My newest book, 

is available for preorder! 

 

Why preorder? It gets the book in front of more potential readers while also guaranteeing you get the lowest available price on Amazon plus delivery on or very close to the release date on July 1st.

 

Here's a book description from my publisher:

We hear that God is love and that He loves us, but what does that mean? And can this truth sink into our hearts in such a way that we are changed?

In Known and Loved, Glenna Marshall reflects on Psalm 139, exploring the transformational truth that we are fully known and loved by the Triune God of the universe. This book, overflowing with truth and encouragement, combats the myths and lies that we are unlovable, alone, or unseen. God sets His love on us in spite of our failings and even when we feel unlovable.

 

The psalmist tips our chins to fix our gaze on God who doesn’t hold back His affections. Taking readers verse by verse Glenna shows how you are … known to the core, known body and soul, known in the dark and in your suffering, known when you want to run or give up, known in your fears and when you feel alone.

 

We can be certain of God’s steadfast love. Immerse yourself in Psalm 139—a transformational journey into the heart of God—for you.

____

 

While you won't see this on any jacket description or back cover copy, I wrote an entire chapter on imprecatory psalms. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy! But it was incredibly heartening for me to grapple with the "cursing" section of Psalm 139. And weirdly, it was my favorite chapter to write, save the one on our fearfully and wonderfully made but broken bodies. I hope that whets your appetite a bit. 

If you're in the U.S., I hope you have a blessed Thanksgiving holiday with loved ones this week. If you're putting up a Christmas tree, I hope your ornaments remind you of the ways God has been at work in your life for all of your life. 

 

Thank you for allowing me into your inbox. You're always welcome to hit reply to these newsletters. I don't always get to respond to every email, but I do read each one. May you taste and see that the Lord is good in every season of your life. I'll pop back into your inbox next month. Thank you for sharing your space with me. 

 

Blessings, 

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