The Long way Around

If you had met me twenty years ago, you probably wouldn't have guessed I'd become a cake artist. Truthfully, neither would I.

For most of my adult life, my world looked very different. I worked in healthcare, spending years as a nurse, educator, administrator, and leader. My days were filled with staffing challenges, budgets, policies, meetings, problem-solving, and caring for people through some of the most difficult moments of their lives.

But if I'm honest, the story starts much earlier than that.

It starts in Newfoundland.

Growing up in Newfoundland, hospitality wasn't something people talked about. It was simply how life was lived. It was neighbors dropping by, extra chairs pulled up to the table, meals shared freely, and the understanding that food was about so much more than feeding people.

Food was connection. Food was community. Food was love made visible. My mother taught me that.

Some of my earliest memories are of baking alongside her and watching her create a home that welcomed people in. She taught me that a table wasn't just a place to eat. It was a place where stories were shared, relationships were built, and people felt cared for.

She taught me that the way you welcome people matters. The way you gather people matters. The details matter. Without realizing it, she was teaching me lessons that would shape the rest of my life.

Creativity was always part of who I was as well. As a child, I loved drawing, playing piano, and learning musical instruments. I was constantly creating something. Making things beautiful wasn't a skill I learned later in life—it was something that always felt natural.

As adulthood arrived, that creativity evolved.

While building my career in healthcare, my creative energy found new outlets. It showed up in creating warm, inviting spaces. It showed up in setting a beautiful table, planning gatherings, and making a house feel like home.

When my husband and I became parents, those values became even more important to us.

Together, we worked to create a home where family mattered, where people felt welcome, and where there was always room for one more at the table. A home that offered both hospitality and safety. A place where people could be fully themselves and know they belonged.

I poured myself into creating meaningful family traditions. Birthdays were never just birthdays. They became events.

Themes, decorations, carefully planned details, and celebrations that made people feel special.

Long before Ginger & Spice existed, I was making custom cakes for those celebrations. What started as a way to create memorable birthdays for my daughter slowly became a creative outlet that I loved.

Looking back now, I can see those birthday parties were the beginning. Not of a business. But of a calling.

At the same time, my professional life continued to grow. I spent years in healthcare as a nurse, educator, administrator, and leader. Healthcare taught me resilience. It taught me how to stay calm under pressure, how to lead, and how to care for people during life's hardest moments.

Most importantly, it taught me that people remember how you make them feel. For a long time, I thought healthcare and creativity were two separate parts of my life. Now I know they were never separate at all. Both were rooted in the same desire: caring for people.

Eventually, the creative side of me could no longer stay on the sidelines. What started as a hobby became a business. One order became another. Markets turned into opportunities. Opportunities became growth.

Leaving healthcare wasn't easy.

It was a career I had invested decades into. It was stable, meaningful, and deeply connected to my identity.

Walking away from something that has defined you for so long forces you to ask a difficult question: If I'm not that anymore, who am I?

The answer arrived slowly. In the quiet moments between orders. In conversations with clients. In weddings, birthdays, and celebrations where I watched people gather around a table, laugh together, tell stories, and create memories.

I realized that while my career had changed, my purpose had not. I've always been in the business of caring for people. The setting simply changed. Instead of helping people through some of life's hardest moments, I now have the privilege of being part of some of its happiest ones.

Today, when people see Ginger & Spice, they often see cakes. What I hope they also see is the story behind them. The Newfoundland roots that taught me hospitality. The mother who taught me that food is love. The family who taught me the importance of gathering. The healthcare career that taught me how deeply people need to feel cared for. The creativity that has followed me through every season of life.

Because I don't really sell cake...

I create experiences that bring people together. I create moments that become memories. I create beautiful things, but more importantly, I create opportunities for connection.

When I look back on my life, the path seems less random than it once did. Every chapter was preparing me for the next. The little girl baking in Newfoundland. The healthcare leader. The mother planning themed birthday parties. The entrepreneur. The cake artist.

They're all the same person. Just expressed in different ways. And while this wasn't the life I originally planned, it feels exactly like the life I was always being prepared for.

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