Kelsey's Homebirth Story of Willow Rae

Trigger Warning: This story includes an intense birth journey with some complications arising during labor. If you’re in a tender or sensitive season, please honor your peace and return to it when you feel ready.

Before the Beginning

I couldn’t tell the birth story of our daughter without adding the context of the pregnancy that led me to this powerful, primal place. This pregnancy was a complete 180 from Hensley's. My pregnancy with Hensley was easeful and full of energy, vitality and strength. Of course, there were challenging moments, as any pregnancy has, but overall, I was blessed to feel healthy and robust most days. 

This pregnancy stretched me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated–preparing me for the most humbling birth experience of my life. From the beginning of this pregnancy, I was faced with the usual first-trimester fatigue and nausea; however, it extended and intensified as time went on instead of easing up. I suspected my body hadn’t fully restored, since I had conceived at just ten months postpartum. My initial pregnancy bloodwork showed I had deficiencies in iron and vitamins B12 and D. Still, as I had to accept humbly, every pregnancy brings on its own challenges, with or without reason.

Throughout this pregnancy, I had extreme nausea that led to throwing up most days. Beginning in the second trimester, my recurring heartburn often made the nausea and vomiting worse. I also faced hormonal migraines. As my body grew, so did the symptoms. By the third trimester, I could barely recognize my swollen calves and feet. My pelvic discomfort and pain began in the final months, too. 

It was all so exhausting. All of this culminated in a feeling of wanting the pregnancy to end for the sake of my physical, mental and emotional health. I just wanted to feel like myself again–for me and for my family. I wanted to be able to play with my toddler and enjoy the time with my husband as a family without being burdened with so many challenging ailments. Of course, I was deeply grateful for every day my body was growing a healthy baby, but I had to hold both joy and discomfort at once.

As I entered the final weeks of pregnancy, I knew relief was coming, but the days began to feel like they stretched on forever. I pleaded with my baby girl and my body to be ready for birth around 38 weeks. But as I knew all too well, we can’t plan, predict or control when birth will happen. I did all the things to naturally urge her and my body along, including labor-stimulating massage, acupuncture, acupressure, stretching, walking (which was no small feat on swollen feet), intimacy, evening primrose oil suppositories, herbal blends, clary sage essential oil, red raspberry leaf tea, visualization and meditation. 

Throughout my due window, I had regular cramping, so I trusted my body was doing all the right things to prepare for birth, but it was hard to say when this cramping would turn to labor. With Hensley’s pregnancy, I cramped for nearly six weeks before it transitioned into labor surges. In my 39th week, I started to have very loose stool, which was the same first true sign of labor that I had with Hensley. 

I began to feel excited and thought my birthing time might be near. True to the unpredictability this pregnancy had carried all along, after five days of loose stool, I realized this wasn’t the start of labor, but my body’s way of fighting a virus. My body needed support because I was feeling so depleted with dehydration, exhaustion and headaches. I nourished my body with a potent hydration and vitamin IV, along with nutrient-dense foods. Within 24 hours, the diarrhea started to subside. I knew my body needed to feel healthy and robust again before labor would come on.

The Threshold of Surrender

Once 40 weeks had passed, I was feeling healthy again, but also ready for a membrane sweep to encourage my body even further. Between 40 + 4 and 40 + 6, I did two sweeps. Baby girl was very low and engaged at this time, and my cervix was very soft and favorable. And yet, it still wasn’t her time. The sweeps were painful and brought intense cramping that never turned into labor—looking back, I probably wouldn’t have done them.

Once again, this pregnancy was asking me to trust and sink into surrender. I shifted my focus onto the special time this gave me to be with my boys and cherished the special moments we shared, just the three of us, before we became four. 

Then Hensley’s birthing time of 41 weeks passed, and I started to feel doubts and frustration creep back in. I had to work hard to remain centered by both resting and staying distracted. I knew labor could happen at any moment and would happen in the coming week…but when? I kept saying “tonight is the night,” only to wake up to no signs of labor. Finally, on the morning of 41+2, I woke to find my underwear feeling wet. “Could this really be my water broken?” I thought to myself as I got up to go to the bathroom. This is not how I ever predicted my labor to begin (my water didn’t break with Hensley until transition, as it often does when left undisturbed), nor how I wanted it to. With my doula experience, I knew it wasn’t the most ideal way for labor to begin, but I also trusted that all would progress as it was meant to.

I laid back down, waited and got up several times to see if any leaking continued. After 30 minutes like this, I was unsure, but I felt like it might just be. The next time I went to the bathroom, I bent over to move an ant trap on the floor (haha). Sure enough, there was an unmistakable huge gush. I stood there staring as it poured out of me onto the floor. I laughed to myself, “Of course, this would be the story that she’d write”. I texted Rori (doula, sister, bff) and Jenny (our beloved midwife) the update and then told Ryan when he woke up, “I think we’re meeting our daughter today!” 

From my experience supporting many mamas who have come before me in this exact scenario, I knew the best things I could do were relax, wait and give my body gentle encouragement. Since it was Saturday, I was excited to spend the day enjoying what would be the last weekend with just my boys. We did our usual weekend routine of getting out to enjoy the ocean air as we walked the beach path (Hensley was the star of the show as he rode his bike along the path), followed by brunch. It seemed appropriate to finally enjoy a restaurant we’ve been wanting to try, Cafe Mimosa, which didn’t disappoint. I felt labor was nearing because while the food was delicious, my stomach felt off, and it was hard to enjoy. After brunch, around midday, we returned home so I could rest. 

Auntie Ror came over to take Hens out to get groceries for us. This gave me a chance to lie down while Ryan got himself showered. When they returned, now early afternoon, it was time for Hensley’s nap, and Rori helped me through the Miles Circuit for some gentle labor encouragement. I wanted to intentionally rest the remainder of the day, so for the first time in all of my pregnancy, I decided it would be the day for some Netflix. I cozied up in bed and streamed an old favorite of mine, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. 

Throughout the afternoon in bed, I did some breast pumping and took herbs to stimulate labor. I was very intentional about my rest since I knew labor could begin at any moment, and I didn’t want to face the same exhaustion I experienced during Hensley’s birth. I definitely had some stored fear around labor exhaustion, so I was proactive about avoiding this. In the late afternoon, I went out for a mini walk with some stairs near our house, but then I once again returned home to our bedroom for rest. The remainder of the evening consisted of Netflix, family snuggles and our evening bedroom dance party. It was calm, fun and joyful! By 8:45 pm, I tucked in for the night, hoping and expecting labor to begin during the evening.

At 6:30 am Sunday, 24 hours after my water had ruptured, I awoke to still having no true surge pattern. Cramping remained, but that was it. I trusted that my labor would eventually begin; however, I started to feel a bit antsy for it to happen. Rori came back over at 7:30 am while it was still cool outside, so I could get in some activity by going up the stairs. It felt good to get out in the fresh air and start the day with movement. With the cool, cloudy weather, it was a beautiful day to relax and invite labor in. 

When we got back home, I had breakfast and we made a game plan with Jenny. I decided I wanted to give my body another day to go into labor on its own with rest and gentle encouragement. I wanted to avoid castor oil at all costs, given all the nausea, vomiting and diarrhea I had experienced this pregnancy. We decided I’d wait another 24 hours until the 48-hour mark to take the castor oil. Once our game plan was made for the day, Rori left to go about her day.

Within not even a minute of her leaving, now 8:30 am, I went to the bathroom and immediately called her. “There’s mec (meconnium),” I said. I knew what this meant. She either was showing some signs of distress or simply her body, like mine, was ready for release. I got Jenny back on the phone, and we decided the plans for the day would be changing. I’d take castor oil in an hour, after my hearty breakfast had digested, so we could speed up labor in the case that this was her trying to tell us she needed to come sooner than later. 

Rori and I laughed, saying, “Of course, she immediately threw up a middle finger to our plans” because this had been the story of my entire pregnancy. Baby girl always had plans all of her own. So instead of heading home, Rori went off to the store to get the castor oil smoothie ingredients (she was so helpful all throughout pregnancy, and we were so grateful to be neighbors just minutes apart from one another for this birth).

While she was out at the store, I showered and started to feel slow surges around 9:15 am. It wasn’t anything unmanageable, and I still identified them as “cramps”. When Rori got back, we gave our friend Jade a call to make plans for Hensley’s care since we knew the castor oil could kick in at any moment. 

At 9:45 am, we blended up the OJ concentrate (we laughed at this blast from the past…even the grocery store attendant said to Rori, “I haven’t had someone ask for this in ten years”), vanilla ice cream and the castor oil. It wasn’t that bad to take down, just cold to chug, but now reflecting on it, it definitely makes my stomach feel queasy thinking about drinking it. We followed up the castor oil with the Miles Circuit again while Ryan dropped off Hensley at the beach with Jade and her kiddos.

When the Waves Found Me

I wasn’t throwing up or having diarrhea as I expected, so at 11 am, I had Ryan go out to get us sandwiches at Billy’s Deli. We ate, and then I relaxed in bed with the breast pump. By 12:30 pm, there still weren’t many signs of labor. It was cool and drizzly out, and Hens was still out of the house, so I thought it’d be a great time for another walk. Ryan and I headed down to the beach for what I knew would be my last walk on the sand while pregnant, which was so special and full circle. 

Throughout pregnancy, I kept feeling like this was our ocean girlie–because of her, we made the big decision to sell our home and move to a beach rental in San Clemente at seven months pregnant. 

The cool weather made the beach peaceful and nearly empty—just a few people scattered on the sand. This intimate beach walk was such a sweet and special moment to connect just the two of us before we would welcome another precious life into our family. The ocean air was damp and cool, and the rain drizzled down on us. It was really peaceful and perfect. 

By the time we started to head up the stairs back home, I said to Ryan, “I’m having more regular surges. They’re still short but regular.” I’d tell him when they were happening, and then I asked, “Were those two like five minutes apart?” I felt like things were finally starting, and I was excited, but I still didn’t want to get my hopes up because I knew it could still be early in labor. 

From Hensley’s 35-hour labor, I knew anything could be possible and early labor, especially, requires patience. When we got home, I finished the rest of my sandwich from lunch, since my stomach was still feeling pretty good from the castor oil, slightly queasy but manageable. 

By 1:20 pm, I was back in bed to rest and finish the season of Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Within thirty minutes of lying down, I began to notice more regular, yet manageable, surges. Ryan and I were relaxing and laughing at Hens on the baby cam as he bounced in his crib. I began timing the surges, and they were anywhere from three to six minutes apart. 

Another thirty or so minutes passed, and just as I finished up watching the season, I texted Rori at 2:27 pm, “Okay things def are shifting and they’re intense, two to three min apart a min long. Going to try to lay a bit longer and then get in the shower.” 

A very short four minutes later, I got up to go to the bathroom and there was a good amount of blood (what we initially thought was dilatation blood as my cervix opened quickly), so I texted Jenny saying “it’s getting really intense” along with a picture of my pad. She responded, “Your cervix is opening fast”, and was immediately on her way from her daughter’s softball game in Huntington Beach, and I called Rori at the same time.

Into The Fire

Ryan walked into the bathroom to check on me and while I was still on the toilet, I told him to call Jenny because I was passing more blood and I felt like this was outside of the norm from my doula experience. The intensity quickly continued to build, from zero to one hundred in just thirty minutes. I got in the shower for relief. I knelt on a folded-up yoga mat with my upper body resting on my shower stool and the warm, soothing water on my back. I gave Ryan directions on things I needed, like water, calming music and communicating with the birth team. As I continued to see and feel blood gush after each surge, with calm focus, I told Ryan to call Jenny and inform her of what was happening, as I knew it was abnormal.

Moments later, at 2:45 pm, Rori arrives and I ask her to start filling up the tub. I knew I wanted to get in as soon as Jenny arrived. Rori began to work on inflating and filling the pool, which I couldn’t wait for to be finished because the pump was so loud and distracting, and I needed the warm water surrounding my belly for relief. I couldn’t believe how quickly things were progressing. I was surely in active labor, feeling like I had completely bypassed any early labor (which was so different from my birth with Hensley, where early labor lasted nearly 24 hours). I coped through the intensity of the surges by focusing on the gospel song lyrics, singing along in my head, with a cool rag in hand and warm water trickling down my back. 

Rori came in to tell me that Roz, the birth assistant, had arrived, since she too lived nearby. While she couldn’t assist with anything medical-related until Jenny arrived, she could be there to help her with the setup. When Rori asked if I was okay with her coming in, I responded, “Of course”.

At 3:15 pm, Jenny arrived straight from her daughter's softball game, and I was so relieved. I wanted to get in the tub, but I also wanted reassurance on all of the blood because it continued after each surge, which were still coming consistently every two to three minutes at this point. Jenny assessed the blood, as well as baby's and my vitals. Everything looked good, which gave me confidence and allowed me to relax a bit more. 

At 3:30 pm, I got in the tub, which was now set up in our bedroom, and thought to myself, “finally”...even though this was only a short hour after active labor had begun. I labored here, rotating between lying back and on my knees with the labor comb in hand. I was finding it really hard to relax and surrender fully. The feelings in my body were so demanding with the surges, and I was also getting sick and throwing up often, which I predicted would probably happen from all the sickness I had experienced during pregnancy and my last birth.

Between Worlds

I was already turning inward, not wanting outside distractions and unable to communicate outside of simple requests like “water”, “cool rag” and “fan”. My mouth was very dry, and I needed constant sips to keep the dry, sandpaper feeling at bay. When the surges would come, I didn’t want to be touched. And as I labored, I didn’t want many eyes on me either, so I asked the birth assistants to leave the birthing space.

It was hard to comprehend how quickly things were progressing, even though I knew second births could unfold this way, especially after having taken castor oil with my waters ruptured. I had my gospel birth playlist on, the lights dimmed, the windows closed, and I tried to be really mindful about being present, taking each surge at a time. I had a strong desire to keep the energy low by keeping any outside energies out, so I requested that our bedroom door stay closed as the team continued to set up the space. 

I attempted all of my favorite visualizations--riding the ocean waves by the pier, playing and laughing with Hens on the beach, my favorite gospel band playing live at church, the peace I felt during Hensley’s birth and all the strong mamas I’ve supported during their births. It was still so hard to get out of my head, even with all my tools. I attribute this to the intensity of labor, but also my primal need to assess my bleeding and communicate what I was experiencing to Jenny.

The intensity of the surges was unlike anything I experienced throughout the 35 hours of labor with Hensley. I remember thinking and saying aloud, “This is painful, I wouldn’t just describe this as intense”. The surges were still coming so frequently, every two or so minutes, but even between them, it felt like they wouldn’t let up. There was a constant band of tension and tightness along my lower uterus. It often wouldn’t subside, even when I attempted to breathe them away or change positions. The surges felt long and relentless. It was so different from the sensations of Hensley’s labor. When Jenny would ask if there was pain between surges, I would express the same, “it feels different,” I’d say, but my pain tolerance is high, and it was hard for me to discern what “painful” was during this demanding stage of labor, especially since it’s so subjective. 

While laboring in the tub, time was a total illusion. All during this time, I was continuing to bleed. I would feel the surges start to let up, but still the tightness lingered, my uterus would relax just a bit and then there would be a big gush. I knew it was clots and blood passing; I could feel it so distinctly. I would look at Jenny and say, “More blood just came”. I would then follow up by looking her in her eyes and asking her if everything was still okay. 

They were taking baby girls and my vitals much more often than they typically would at a home birth, about every ten minutes. She reassured me that both baby and I were doing beautifully. I asked what was happening because I knew the bleeding was more than what I’d typically seen as a doula. She shared that she was consulting with several trusted peers, midwives and an OB, and they had several assumptions—my cervix was dilating fast or my placenta was partially abrupting. They couldn’t say which one for certain, but at this point in labor, with the amount of bleeding, it was more likely the latter. 

Jenny gave me the peace and confidence to know we were still safe laboring at home, but she calmly said our baby needed to come soon. I knew what that meant, and I knew I had to do the work to bring her earthside as quickly as possible. Even amidst uncertainty, I was never afraid. My primal self remained laser-focused on what needed to be done and wouldn’t allow my mind to drift toward fear. Instead, I felt deeply focused, held and safe—a calm confidence that my birthing team so beautifully instilled.

After an hour in the tub and no longer being able to find any relief, I got out and onto the bed at 4:30 pm. I was in pain, exhausted, defeated and ready to give up, so Jenny said she’d check me and if there was any cervix left, maybe she could hold it back, so I could begin pushing. I hadn’t felt any urge to push yet, and I felt nervous that I still could be far off. 

I climbed into bed and lay my weight into Ryan as he sat behind me, embracing me. I swayed my knees back and forth, trying to move the tension and tightness out of my body. When she checked, baby was very low and my cervix was soft and at an eight. She said she’d keep her fingers there to see if I could get baby girl’s head past it with her assistance as I pushed. Nothing about it felt instinctual. I tried to push, but it didn’t feel like I could, even though Jenny said I was making some progress.

After several attempts, I retreated back to the master bathroom. The surges halted me as I walked to the shower. I leaned my weight against the counter as I swayed. I was in my “doula brain” because I internally assessed how I naturally wanted to turn my knees in and would go up on my tiptoes during surges. I knew she was low. When the next surge let up, I got back in the shower while they pumped out the tub that was now filled with blood, so they could refill it with fresh water and inflate it since it had been leaking. 

It’s hard to recount these parts because time slipped away and the laboring intensity blurred moments together. I wasn’t in the shower long, and by 5:10 pm, I was back in the tub in an attempt to find relief. I wanted to switch up the music, and Sean Angus Watson’s acoustic guitar now filled the room, the same music that played when Hensley was born and continues to play for many of his nap times. I continued to grip the comb and cool rags for comfort and distraction. I started to feel a slight natural urge to push, but it wasn’t the full sensation of feeling it in my butt as all moms do when the baby is right there.

The Becoming

My confidence in my ability to birth my baby at home started to waver now. I felt completely exhausted and defeated by the unyielding pain. It was hard to describe, but I had this incredibly strong desire to be taken home to bed…even though that’s where I was. I looked at Ryan and told him I wanted to transfer to the hospital for an epidural. I felt like this was my only way out. I pleaded with him and said, “Please let’s go; I don't want to do this any longer. I no longer care about birthing at home.” Internally, I knew I didn’t want the chaos and interventions that the hospital would bring, but I was also feeling so defeated and concerned about the bleeding.

I asked Jenny to come to my side, so I could tell her the same thing. I said, “I’m done, and I just want it to be over…I’m ready to meet my baby girl.” Jenny spoke strength into me. She said that I had to go retrieve her and only I could. She continued by saying, I had the strength to do so and it would require the same determination as when I ran marathons and maybe wanted to give up in the final miles. I took her words in and dug deep to find any remaining primal power within.

I felt like I was desperate for relief and rest. At 6:05 pm, I decided I’d like to get out of the tub to try and lay in bed to find some rest. Jenny checked me again after some time here, and she said baby was right there and I should begin to push. Surges had spaced out slightly, and she suggested I stimulate my nipples to bring them closer together for pushing, so I did. I also had Ryan helping with the stimulation. It was now 6:30 pm, just four hours into labor, and it started to feel like I could push. Jenny kept her hand inside my cervix as I pushed since I wasn’t fully dilated, but she was able to hold the lip back. I’d push past it, and it would slip back over baby girl’s head after the surge.

Pushing in bed didn’t feel effective, so I moved to the toilet. At 6:50 pm, this is when my pushes began to make progress, though Jenny was still assisting with her hand inside because of the cervical lip. After several pushes like this, I finally could feel more of a primal urge. This is when I finally felt confident again that I could do it. Something within me shifted; a quiet resolve that I would meet her here, at home.

It was incredibly intense, and the noises I made with the pushes were loud as I began to roar her out. I told Jenny to get her hand out, and she said it was, so this is when I knew I could finally feel her head. The familiar fullness and burning from Hensley’s birth was there. At last, I was finally so close to meeting my baby girl. I knew this was what I had to do because the bleeding had still been continuing this entire time. 

At 7:15 pm, after just pushing for 25 minutes, I got back in the tub for the final pushes that would bring her Earthside. On my knees, I bore down and roared as she descended. A few powerful pushes and her head was out! 

There was a minute of pause as I gathered my final strength, and at last, she was born into my arms at 7:21 pm on September 21st! There was a nuchal cord, and as I unwrapped it, I felt she also had a knot, which I announced to the team. Ryan sat outside the tub in front of me, and he got to see his daughter enter the world. He assisted me as we brought her to my chest. The relief I felt was immense.

The Solar Eclipse and Her Earthside Arrival

On the final day of summer, with a solar eclipse, the energy was potent and powerful. Our Virgo-Libra cusp baby entered the world with so much strength and power, matching the energy the universe surrounded her with! I held her close to my chest as I began to stimulate her for her first cry. 

She came out limp, but I knew she was tethered to me by her beautiful cord, and I trusted she was perfectly okay. I spoke to her and encouraged her to take her first breath, which she finally did at about a minute. She immediately began to pink up perfectly. I was then given Pitocin as a precaution, even though we didn’t quite know what my bleeding was like at this stage. I had been bleeding throughout the labor. The tub was crimson and my placenta was still inside me.

Jenny had me get out of the tub so they could better assess my bleeding and I could birth my placenta. With baby girl on my chest and oxytocin flowing, I pushed out my placenta 35 minutes after birth. There was no continued bleeding, and this was a beautiful sight. The birth team assessed my placenta and saw so many clots attached, which confirmed the partial abruption. 

My body was so powerful, primal and wise. Even as the placenta began to lift away, my body protected me by clotting at the site and still gave nourishing blood to my sweet girl. I was so grateful and extremely relieved.

Jenny assessed to see if I had any tearing, and to my surprise, there were only “skid marks”. I had a second-degree tear with Hensley. His birth couldn’t be more different than this one. During his birth, I pushed slowly and steadily for four hours. I breathed him down, as I peacefully labored inwardly with my eyes closed and my mind’s eye adrift at sea. This birth was wild and loud with so much outside “noise”. It just goes to show how primal and different every birth is. 

With no repair stitches needed, Ry and I snuggled up together in bed as we stared in awe at our precious brown-haired, blue-eyed baby girl. We couldn’t believe it…she was here after an incredibly fierce entrance into the world, and she was perfect in every way. Ryan fed me homemade bone broth chicken noodle soup as baby girl sweetly latched to my breast. It was pure magic and peace. We soaked in this precious moment just the three of us, as the birth team left us to bond. 

The Graceful Willow Tree

After the team, too, had eaten the delicious soup and had begun cleaning up, they reassembled in the room. It was time we officially announced her name. Ry and I hadn’t even fully decided her middle name until that moment, but I whispered to him and confirmed it had been what we had been calling her most of my pregnancy. Although in the final weeks, I began to impatiently await her arrival, I started saying, “Maybe she’s not coming yet because she wants a different name,” so I started to throw a curveball name in the mix. It’s funny now because the name we ultimately chose had been the name she was meant to have all along. 

“Willow Rae Scott,” he announced. Willow, from the graceful willow tree that grows near the water, is a symbol of resilience, healing and gentle strength. The willow bends with the wind but does not break, teaching flexibility, endurance and quiet beauty through all of life’s changing seasons. Rae is the name given after my mom’s own middle name. It was such a joyous moment to hear her name aloud as we stared at her with so much love.

The birth team then assessed the placental lobes and tried to identify the place where the placenta had lifted during labor. We were all in awe of the way the lobes were formed and how "three-dimensional" it was. It was so thick, vibrant and full with life! It was now time to officially release our sweet girl from the life-giving placenta that nourished her for nearly ten months. 

We brought back the beautiful cord burning ceremony we used for Hensley’s birth, which was a favorite fond memory of mine. During Hensley’s cord burning, we used the same candles that marked the ceremony of releasing our angel baby, Cora, to sea. Now for Willow’s birth, we used the special candles made with love by Auntie Rori that adorned my birth altar from Hensley’s birth. It felt so magical and full-circle. There was so much beauty in this act of ceremony that honors the beauty of pregnancy, the placenta that gave life and the new chapter that’s beginning.

As the night with our birth team began to wind down and the energy settled, we weighed and measured our baby girl. At 8 pounds even and 22 inches long, she was already trying to keep up with her nineteen-month-old big brother! The team surrounded us with love and comfort, and together we sang “Happy Birthday, Willow”. 

Everything was beautiful, and so much love filled the air. I felt immense gratitude for the care, attention, safety and confidence our team poured into us throughout the afternoon and evening. Because of them, I could anchor into my strength and birth our girl at home, in the most peaceful environment—even as unexpected challenges arose. Her birth was both wild and sacred, a reaffirming reminder that surrender is its own kind of strength.

After Jenny and her assistants left, Rori helped me to the shower. I was fed, cleansed, and tucked into bed just before midnight, with Ry by my side and Willow on my chest. All was good, right and peaceful in the world.

Even in the wildest storms, there is always deep wisdom, trust and grace waiting to be born.