Yesterday, I had the honour of attending a remarkable unmedicated home birth.  This first-time mama walked the gritty line of power and vulnerability with a heroic heart.

I watched in awe as her body quivered under the pressure of forging the passage to the outside world, as the tremors of Heaven ran through her bones, delivering a new and perfect son.

To observe the deliverer in her process of undoing and unmooring from all known ports, and yet being born herself as a mother, is a profound and spiritual encounter.  I beheld the birth of a mother and father yesterday, a family conceived in love and born in the raw wilds of surrender.

This is what changes the world: courage to blaze into the unknown, persist through the pressure, and find there a goodness and wholeness never before imagined, unhindered by the pain of the process.

They say, Every Birth is a Lesson.

Yesterday, I encountered the sheer saintliness that radiates from an exhausted and worn mama as she descends into her own depths and finds there a reserve of power she didn't know she possessed.  I learned that sometimes Heaven looks radiant and ebullient, and other times it looks fierce and wild.

And this is where we so often find ourselves: straddled between the impact of the moment and the promise of a new day, these persistent realities ever colliding within us.

As we follow the map home, we find the sacred space where God resides, ever breathing new life into our pain, calling us into a higher experience of our own potential and beauty.

Home begins to look a lot like a garden we never left.

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