Some of you have known me since infancy and still think of me as 'Jeannie' while others of you may know me only as a name in a bulletin or on a mission's list. Many of you may wonder how I ended up where I am today.

I grew up in New Hampshire where my father would often take me hiking in the White Mountains.  Little compares with standing on a rocky ridge, one peak rising behind you and another ahead, the trees falling away below, and the wind driving clouds across the sky. Reaching this point usually takes a while  and the journey isn't easy. Steeper sections require your full attention and effort as your arms and legs lift you one step closer to the summit. There's not always a lot to see along the way, but you continue on, secure in the knowledge that there is a peak and, if the weather cooperates, a view. Above the treeline you lose the shelter from the wind. Where once the trail was marked with painted blazes, now cairns blaze the way.

These piles of rock, of varied sizes, show where you're going and where you've been. They reassure you that you're still on the trail, headed the right direction. In the same way, there are events in our lives that stand out, that mark the path. If confused, you look back to the last point you knew was right and regain your bearings. Or perhaps others have gone before and left cairns for you to follow. Here are a few of the cairns that have marked my spiritual trail.

I was raised in a Christian home and from the very beginning attended church and Sunday school. My mother wrote that I would come home from Sunday school as a toddler, tuck my papers under my chin, and repeat the story I had heard that day, complete with hand motions. By the time I was six or so, I made a decision. One night as my mother tucked me into bed, I told her that I wanted Jesus to live in me the way he lived in my parents and Sunday school teachers. It's the first cairn I see when I look back.

Another cairn was built when I was twelve. That was the year my 9-year-old sister, Laura, died of a malignant brain tumor. I learned God's comfort in grief. I learned that there are no easy answers.

As a high-schooler, New England Camp Cherith was the place I wanted to be in the summer. At this Christian girls camp I learned to live my faith on a daily basis. I was challenged to consider what that looked like and to follow through on it. At camp I met missionaries and first began to think that maybe I could be one too. More cairns went up.

Following my graduation from Michigan State University's College of Nursing, I stayed in Michigan to work for a few years. I knew that if I wanted to be a missionary nurse, I had to have two years of work experience first. By the time those two years were up, though, I'd decided I would rather send my money than send myself!

Well on my way to making my own plans, I was brought up short by a challenge my pastor made weekly from the pulpit. He said, "The sad thing about American Christians today is that we're afraid of God. We're afraid to let HIM do what HE wants with our lives. Instead, we place limits, and say 'I'll do this and this, but don't ask me to do that.'" (Emerson E Eggerichs) After several weeks, I finally told God that I would let HIM do what HE wanted with my life. When I returned a co-worker's phone call that same day, I knew that there could only be one response when she asked, "How would you like to go to Africa?" Within three months I found myself living at a mission hospital in Sierra Leone, West Africa. I signed up for a year, but stayed 18 months. Many more cairns mark this part of the trail.

I returned home at the end of my term with a desire to get some Biblical training and to earn my MS in nursing. I did this while living Richmond, Virginia in the early 90s and attending West End Assembly of God (WEAG). It was important to me to find a mission-minded church. I didn't want to wander again from my goal of returning to an overseas mission field. When I finished my MS, I began to consider the opportunities available to me. One woman at WEAG repeatedly suggested Mercy Ships, told me when the ship was in a nearby port (though I never visited), and finally I took the phone number.

In August 1996 I joined the Anastasis in Madagascar to begin my 5-month Discipleship Training School, a requirement if I wanted to serve long-term with Mercy Ships. I figured this was one way to get the pre-requisite out of the way and see if Mercy Ships was where I belonged. After three months of lecture, I moved to a Zulu village in South Africa for two months. A highlight for me was the weekly Bible studies I held with two new believers. They came with a hunger and a realization that their new faith had to make a difference in their lives, evaluating cultural practices in light of the Bible and not just studying repentance, but truly repenting. I gained a new understanding of our Redeemer God.

In the years since, I've worked as a recovery room nurse, an assistant OR supervisor, an OR supervisor, procurement representative, HealthCare Services coordinator, and HealthCare manager on the Anastasis. As I write, I have been seconded to the Africa Mercy for 6 months (Sept '03-Feb '04) where I am helping with hospital design questions and procurement. At the end of February (2004) I returned to the Anastasis temporarily, but before I left the Africa Mercy I agreed to return in September 2004 to serve full-time as HealthCare Manager. These months have been a lesson in obedience as my desire is to be elsewhere. I'm sure this time, too, will one day stand as a cairn that marks the path my life has taken.