We live in Newberg. In a cute little house. On a quiet little street. In a sleepy little neighborhood. Half an hour from church, half an hour from Eric’s parents, half an hour from my parents. The only thing that made sense about moving to Newberg was that it was as close to Eric’s job as Woodburn was.

I’ve lost track of how many people have asked us how we came to live in Newberg. Sometimes they ask why. And our answer has always been because God led us here. But we weren’t sure why either . . .

September 1, 2015 . . . Newly engaged, Eric and I were doing some searching on Craigslist for a house to rent. We weren’t looking as far away as Newberg, but there wasn’t much in Woodburn or the surrounding areas, and when Eric saw the Newberg ad, we decided to go check it out. And we loved it. The right size, the right neighborhood, the right landlords. I couldn’t help thinking that if we moved there maybe I would be able to help out with the landlord’s disabled daughter who lived in the house behind it. But the rent was too high, and it was too far away, and we left the house and our hope of it behind that night. I don’t remember if I told Eric or if I only told God, but I thought about it that maybe the owner would call us back and lower the rent and we would get our perfect little house after all. But it was just a hopeful prayer, not one that I was counting on.

September 2, 2015 . . . The landlady called Eric. And she lowered the rent. And she begged us to move in, even though they had upwards of fifteen other potential renters. We were amazed. And grateful.

September 3, 2015 . . . We signed the contract, and the little house that was just right became ours.

Two months of wedding planning and house furnishing followed, and we were almost too busy to remember how God gave us our house. But then November 7 came and went, and we moved in to stay, and we made it our home, and we had company, and they asked questions, and we started thinking again about why God might’ve led us to Newberg.

I especially was feeling like I wasn’t doing much for God. I wrote when I had something to say, and I made a meal for this family or that one on occasion, but as far as actually touching a life that needed the light of Jesus . . . I wasn’t sure how to do that. And I wasn’t sure I was brave enough. I loved staying home and taking care of the house that God gave us. I didn’t like to go to town without Eric or my sister Dora, who works a few minutes away. And when I did go out, I couldn’t wait to get back to the safety and comfort of home.

But I didn’t want to waste my time. And though I filled it with doing good things at home, it still felt like I should be doing more. So I asked God to show me. I asked Him to use me.

March 29, 2016 . . . I had an idea how God might like to use me. I needed to do some shopping in town, and I’d seen a lady and her child sitting on the corner near Safeway a time or two, and I told God if she was there when I went to town that morning, I would stop and give her some money and a Bible and a word or two about the Light of the world. I didn’t want to. It scared me. But I told God I would, and I put money specifically in my wallet for her and a little Bible in my purse, and I went to town with a pounding heart. I didn’t see her though. So I did my shopping and went home and kept living life. And kept asking God to use me.

A couple days later, I went out to get the mail, and on my way back in our landlady snagged me and asked if I’d like to meet her disabled daughter. And things moved rapidly from there.

I go to work with Jen every day now. She works at George Fox University, cleaning tables. And the girl who hates big crowds, who feels painfully out of place in the mall, who is intimidated by “cool” people, works right alongside her. The first few days were incredibly stressful and scary. Lots of people, lots of noise, lots of stares.

But I can lift my head now. And I can smile in the face of the stares. And I can try to show Jesus. And sometimes people smile back, and sometimes they show Jesus to me.

And I think I know a little bit now why God might’ve brought us to Newberg.

And it humbles me.

I’ll be glad when April is over because then college will be out, but for now I get stretched a little more every day, and it’s good for me.

God does answer prayer . . . but He often does it in ways that stretch us and grow us, and sometimes that’s painful and scary. But He is good, and He gives strength, and He gives courage. So don’t be afraid to ask Him to use you.

He will. And probably not in the ways you imagined He would.