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Mid Wales
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Katy Kidwell

I live in the hills of mid Wales, where woodland paths, changing seasons, and quiet rhythms shape daily life. I spend my days home educating my two boys, tending to the ordinary work of family life, and noticing beauty in small, overlooked places. My own winding faith journey has left me curious, grounded, and deeply attentive to a Love that holds us as we wander and navigate life as it unfolds.

My path into spiritual direction grew out of my own experience of faith shifting and unravelling, and a deep longing for companionship in what often felt like a lonely wilderness. Originally from the USA, I have lived in Canada, Scotland, England, and Wales, and my vocational path has been similarly winding. Before becoming a parent and spiritual director, I worked for many years as a therapeutic social worker across three countries and a range of settings, accompanying people at many different stages of life. As a full-time carer and a late-diagnosed neurodivergent woman, I often found church communities difficult to navigate, and over time, I found myself living outside familiar religious structures. Spiritual direction is a place where questions are welcome, uncertainty does not need to be fixed, and we are met with care rather than answers.

I am most alive in conversations with people who are living into a deep and holy, “yes!” to being their full and authentic selves. Many of the people I accompany are navigating faith transitions, neurodivergence, caring responsibilities, or identities that have not always been fully welcomed in spiritual spaces. I am committed to offering a queer affirming, anti racist, and inclusive space, while continuing my own learning and accountability around liberation and justice.

What matters most to me is that those I accompany feel deeply held by Love. There is no need to bring a polished or spiritualised version of yourself. I am comfortable sitting with doubt, grief, and darkness, and I trust that Love is present and at work even and maybe especially in ambiguity. I hope to offer a space where people can bring the whole of their lives, knowing that all of who they are is already known and welcomed by God.

A place that feels thin, holy, or spiritually alive to me

Woodland paths, especially when I am alone in the early morning or at moonrise.

A book I return to because it stays fresh and keeps me company

I read widely and eclectically, but I often return to Marilynne Robinson, Barbara Kingsolver, and Octavia Butler, alongside poetry which is one of my deep loves.

A question I find yourself living with these days

Where am I being invited to loosen my grip on certainty, identity, motherhood, and perception?

A simple daily practice that steadies me

Thirty minutes a day on my rebounder with loud, joyful music and unselfconscious movement, which brings me fully into my body and the present moment.

A meal I love making for other people

Mediterranean or Middle Eastern inspired food with fresh salads, warm homemade pitta, generous dips and sauces, and always dessert - often homemade ice cream with slightly experimental flavours.

A journey that changed me, outwardly or inwardly

My journey through infertility and growing our family through adoption changed me profoundly. It gently dismantled my assumptions about how life was supposed to unfold and opened me to the wide, wild, and surprising nature of Love. I learned to loosen my grip on certainty and to trust a deeper, more spacious faith.

Something that reliably draws my attention back to what matters

The nightly rhythm of bedtime stories with my youngest son and sitting with him as he falls asleep.

A piece of music that still stops me when you hear it

Yo-Yo Ma, Bach’s Cello Suite No. 5 in C minor (Sarabande). This piece has journeyed with me through many seasons of life. Its spare beauty and quiet gravity feel like a companion, holding sorrow and tenderness together, and inviting me into stillness each time I hear it.

A moment when I realised something important had shifted for me

The first time I named myself as a neurodivergent woman in a group setting and felt grounded rather than exposed. It marked a shift toward wholeness, self-trust, and the freedom to show up unapologetically as my full, authentic self.

Something ordinary I find unexpectedly meaningful

Collecting our weekly veg box from a local farmer, which roots us in place, season, and community, and reminds me that we are truly home here in Wales.

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