Jill Briscoe's spiritual memoir is delivered with a dreaminess that will probably put off all but the most committed Christian readers. Born in England, she spent her early years escaping WW II bombs and idolizing her older sister, her teen years bidding for attention through misbehavior and rebellion. Sent to Cambridge to become a teacher, she was exposed to one after another Christian evangelizer, and eventually came under their sway. This forced her to find a new group of like-minded intimates--a group to which she added by means of prayer and patient witnessing. After university, she taught young children and established her own unofficial ministry among Liverpool's youth gangs--by her account, with fabulous success. At Cavernwray, a haven for such youth, she met Stuart, her future husband; and shortly after their marriage he gave up a promising business career to become one of Cavernwray's directors. Three children and Stuart's long preaching missions abroad forced Jill to adjust to the ""passenger seat""; it was all less interesting, she found, from there. By 1970, however, Stuart's absences had their affect on the children, and the family settled down in a pastorate in Milwaukee; Jill has subsequently resumed speaking out for Christ, in communities across the U.S. What's puzzling about her narrative is, first, its organization around chapters dealing with specific women who supposedly influenced her life; some, however, are barely mentioned in connection with her activities and discoveries, and most share a luminous quality that it would take a better writer to define and differentiate. Moreover, the events as catalogued do not always seem moored to reality: there are too many details missing, too many allusions to a ""destiny"" never explained or a ""Connection"" whose mystical hand in human doings is similarly murky. A highly introspective and mostly inaccessible piece.