Home to Rehoboth
written by: Heather C. Bauer
I am alone in a dark house that I don’t know, standing in the kitchen. Realizing I didn’t want to stay here any longer I walk around to find my way out of the strange house, and when I step out, I am surrounded by my all-to-familiar woods, the place I have called home since I was born. Looking down, I see a path that is littered with stones of yellow citrine and my eyes land on a unique shape, a wand with a point on each end. I picked it up and light emanated from it. I pointed it toward the path and began to walk, then the dream ended. My eyes opened, and I immediately fixate on the path of yellow citrine. Where was it taking me? Why this stone? I also wondered why another dream of being in an unfamiliar dark house. Surely this meant something as well? The difference between this dream and all the others is that I was able to get out of this house as opposed to feeling lost and trapped in all the other dark houses. Another important distinction is that none of the houses were the same.
Getting out of bed, I grabbed my journal, and headed towards the kitchen to make tea and start breakfast. I looked around my less than 500-square-foot apartment and felt the chaos of the boxes stacking up. This is the part of moving I hate, especially when it’s time to pack up my books and journals. I felt a little anxious, so I decided that lemon and ginger tea would be more beneficial than my normal cup of coffee. I scrambled a couple of eggs, sliced up an avocado and selected a teacup that had belonged to my Gram. Made in the 1940s, purple and yellow pansies were hand painted on the ceramic. I had learned through my studies in ancestral veneration that cherished items that belonged to the people we loved, attracted their presence. And this is one of my gifts: I can conjure any of my ancestors’ energy with these cherished items. Energy is eternal, and through the strands of DNA, I am connected to them physically and spiritually.
The tea kettle whistled and I poured myself a cup, sitting down at the table I opened my journal, and while the tea steeped, I prayed my morning prayer.
Ancestors above me
Ancestors behind me
Ancestors before me
Guide me towards, hem me in.
The energy in the room shifts and the veil between this world and the next opens. My dear Aunt Sarah walks through it and sits down.
“The chaos of the in-between is going to be worth what is on the other side of this move, Eudora Evelyn,” she says.
I smile, “Auntie, I wasn’t expecting you this morning, would you like some tea?”
“I can stay for a little bit, some tea would be lovely.”
My Aunt Sarah, who departed this earth realm in 1989, is sweet as can be, but a tough cookie too. She is the original witch of the Northwoods in Rehoboth, Minnesota. Even in spirit, she is a fierce protector of the land and her family. Don’t let her soft-spoken ways fool you. Every bear in Koochiching County knew not to cause any mischief on her land or their meat would end up in a mason jar on a shelf in her cellar. Our connection is proof that at any given moment, the supernatural and natural worlds do indeed mingle with one another.
I selected a cup for her that matched mine and made some lemon and ginger tea for her as well. She smiled when I set the cup down, “I remember this cup. Your Gram and I shared many stories with each other drinking out of this set.” I have a flashback of me as a little girl sitting in a chair while they talked, swinging my too-short legs, and eating one of Aunt Sarah’s homemade oatmeal raisin cookies. “Where is Gram today?”
“Keeping the faeries and Darrell in line so that they don’t interfere with the construction of your cabin.” We both laugh. “They are such little tricksters. Tell them that I have amassed enough poems to read to them every day for the next 10 years at least. That news should keep them happy for at least an hour.” Aunt Sarah snorts, “I doubt it. I better head back. They listen to me better than they listen to her.” And just as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared.
Feeling better, I begin to write down the dream in my journal. It helps me process and get some insight into what it’s supposed to mean. As I wrote, the interpretation came. This was about me, leaving behind a place that didn’t serve me anymore, which is why the house was dark. The citrine wand would light the way for me and would help keep me calm and centered as I began the journey on this new path. The chaos of stacked boxes and piles of things to give away wasn’t so awful now. All I had left to face was the emotions of leaving behind everything I knew and everyone I loved.
My daughter Camille’s face flashed across the screen of my phone. We are connected in the same way that twins are, so she had to know how I was feeling. I answer the video chat request and see the smiling face of my two-year-old granddaughter who I nicknamed “The Bean.” My smile is instant, and just as big and happy as hers. “HI BEAN!!!” I hear my daughter say. “Hi Momma,” and she gets the phone from Bean. “I HOLD NONNA,” she says in her indignant voice. “Can you come over and play with Bean for a little bit?”
As if she needed to ask me, “Of course! Want me to pick up the Nugget from school and come over then?”
The Nugget. My blonde-haired, blue-eyed faery-like five-year-old. Her autism diagnosis at the age of two paved the way for her to be in an amazing program that has helped her grow by leaps and bounds. “I will grab the Nugget, come get the Bean, and take them to the Butterfly Pavilion so you can have some time to yourself. Want me to grab some Chinese food so you don’t have to make dinner tonight? We can eat together.” She answers in the affirmative.
I had a couple of hours before I had to get ready, so I opened my laptop and continued working on my manuscript. Landing the book deal was the impetus for all this change. My blog caught the eye of a literary agent who pounded the pavement to get me a deal. I signed it and with that came the advance that gave me the money to buy 10 acres of my Aunt Sarah’s property that had gone up for sale. My cousin bought the remaining 30 acres, and both of us were thrilled that it would remain in the family. I bought this land with my kids and grandkids in mind. If the book does well, I will build a home for them and we could live on the property together.
I often wondered how I was supposed to write a whole book about a life I am still living, so I took it one essay at a time, essays that I eventually began to post on a blog. Before I knew it, I had garnered a blog following comprised of creatives and people like me, who found themselves outside of the religion they were raised in. After the back-to-back deaths of my sister and mother, I decided it was time to dig in and really air things out. In the process, I realized I had been living a life that was handed to me instead of grabbing the reins and writing my own chapters. The decision to move back to Rehoboth was the beginning of a new chapter that wouldn’t be written for me, but it was going to come at a great cost when it was time to leave my loved ones behind.
I glanced at the clock and decided to stop before I lost track of time and got ready to go get the girls. An hour later, I pulled up to the Nugget’s school and went in to get her. “NONNA!!!” Oh, my heart. It damn near flies out of my chest every time I see her. “Hey, my special Nugget! Let’s go get Sissy and go see the butterflies and Rosie!” Rosie the tarantula is our special friend at the Butterfly Pavilion. I’m the only one brave enough to hold her, but the girls can give her a high-five, which involves the tip of one of her legs tapping the pad of their pointer fingers. They love that.
We got to my daughter and son-in-law’s apartment and went in to get the Bean. Oh my Bean. Her smile and excitement for life are unparalleled, just like her Daddy. She is an old soul, even at 2 years old. “Bean should we go see the butterflies and high-five Rosie?” My daughter gives me a hug, “What time does Joey get home from work? I’ll grab some Chinese so that it’s here when he gets home.” She tells me he will be home around 6, which gives me and the girls plenty of time to enjoy being together.
The girls grab my hands, and we head out to the car. I push away the thought that soon, time with them is going to be more virtual than physical. This is going to be the hard part about leaving, but I’ll be damned if I let it be a distraction from the present. We sing “Baby Shark” followed by “Let It Go” in the car on the way. We don’t just sing the songs; we commit to an entire performance that gets the attention of the people in the cars next to us at the stoplight. Some smile at us while others roll their eyes.
After we got checked in at the front desk, we decided to go see Rosie first. Thankfully, the line wasn’t long and before I knew it, Rosie was sitting in the palm of my hand and the girls took turns giving her a high five. After that, we went into the conservatory to see the butterflies. Within minutes, both the girls had a butterfly land on their hands and I am so thankful I have my phone handy to catch that moment. “Nonna, they are faeries, right?” I respond, “They sure are Nugget, but they are different from the faeries that will be at Nonna’s new house. I can’t wait for you to come and meet them.”
We sit down on a bench together, just me and my girls while all sorts of butterflies flit around us. An iridescent blue and black butterfly lands on the Bean’s head and all three of us take a selfie together. “Cheeeeeeese,” the Bean says. Surprisingly, the butterfly stays on her head for the picture, which is for sure going on a wall at the cabin. “It’s time to go get dinner and go home, girls.” We pick up the Chinese food and head back to their place.
“Hi Momma,” Joey greets me with a hug. He might be my son-in-law, but I absolutely consider him my son. When he started hanging around, it felt like he belonged with us, and even though he isn’t the Nugget’s biological dad, they have loved each other from the get-go. And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that this is the happiest I have ever seen my daughter. They are truly soulmates.
We sit down at the table and dig into the dollar scoop of Chinese food we have loved for years. “Do you have a finish date for the cabin yet, Momma?” Both kids ask at the same time, “As of this morning, the finish date is September 29th.” Camille smiles because the importance of the date isn’t lost on her: it coincides with the 30th anniversary of my Grandpa’s passing. We both get a little teary, realizing that this is a month away from now. “What’s the plan for the move?” She asks. “The moving company will come on the 20th and I will come to stay with you guys for my last week. I leave on the 27th and will take two days to do the drive.” We spend the rest of the evening talking about them coming up for Christmas so they can see the land for themselves and look at potential places to put the barndominium they have dreamed about building. After tucking the girls in for the night, I headed home.
“You’re sure in it now, Eudora Evelyn,” I thought to myself as I climbed into bed later that night. The thought of leaving my family and friends was heartbreaking, but the adventure of returning to Rehoboth was something I could no longer deny. At fifty years old, I was making a radical life change; leaving Denver, the place I had called home for over 30 years, to my literal dream of living in the woods. Rehoboth had been calling me back for the better part of two years, and that also all started with a dream. As a hedgewitch, I have the uncanny ability to travel into the realm where my ancestors reside, and this happens usually in my sleep, when my ADHD-riddled brain isn’t constantly processing. In the dream, my Gram, Aunt Sarah, and a few other unexpected female ancestors were gathered in the living room of the cabin my Grandpa had built in 1963. They were all smiles when I walked in through the front door, “It’s about time you got here,” my Aunt Sarah said, and my Gram, with her squinty-eyed smile, said, “Eudora, it’s time to come home.” Immediately after waking up from that dream, I booked the ticket. At that point, it had been 13 years since I had stepped foot in Rehoboth, so I made two trips back that year to get my bearings and see what I had missed. On those trips, I realized that I had been living the last 30-plus years of my life in bits and pieces, not realizing how damaging it had been to my soul to be disconnected from my roots. From that point on, every “dream” I had involved me being in the woods. And while I loved my family and friends, living in Denver had become stifling and unbearable for me. I was more than ready to go.
The next few weeks flew by. I finished initial edits and got them off to the publisher, and the movers came and loaded up my belongings. I headed to the kids’ place to get settled in for my last week in Denver. It was important that I have this time with the Nugget and the Bean to ease them into my leaving and not being around as much. Since I was going to be bunking up with the girls, we decided to do something fun and turned their room into a glamping experience. I bought them a special light that projects the Milky Way onto the ceiling of their bedroom. I did this so they can experience what it’s like to lay in the grass in Aunt Sarah’s field and look up at the night sky.
I got a whole bunch of pillows and blankets for us to sleep together on the queen-sized bed in their room, and we had our favorite stuffies too. My stuffy is a Wendigo named Darrell, who I am going to leave with the girls. I imbued him with my energy and charged him with the task of watching their dreams. When it was bedtime, I climbed into bed with the girls and pointed out the different constellations.
Laying in bed, I began to talk to them,
“You know how Mommy and Nonna are witches and we have special gifts? Aunt Sarah is who we inherited those gifts from. She taught Nonna how to be friends with the trees and what flowers in the woods would make the best tea or medicine. Nonna’s new house is going to be next to Aunt Sarah’s favorite tree, and someday soon we will all live there together.”
“Nonna, are there faeries there?” The Nugget asks me.
“Yes, Nonna saw them there once. There were two little lights dancing around the top of a tree, and you know what? I bet they will be your friends if you give them something shiny.”
“I go with Nonna.” My sweet little Bean says.
“Not yet, Bean, but I will see you at Christmas when you come to Nonna’s house.”
My heart aches, but I know that this is just temporary. I cling to each and every moment, breath, and word like it’s the most precious thing. We would spend Christmas together in the woods and begin making plans for the kids’ house.
***
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.”- Anais Nin
On September 27th, 2022 I woke up and made the kids breakfast, and then it was time to gather my things and get on the road. I had two days to get to Rehoboth and be there in time to meet the movers.
“I love you guys so much. Nonna will video chat with you every day and I am so excited about Christmas!” The Nugget was already in tears, “Nonna please stay. Don’t go.”
My heart. How could I do this? Was I doing the right thing leaving them behind even though I knew this was temporary? “Momma, we’re going to be okay.” My daughter said with tears in her eyes. This was so hard. I hugged my strong and well-composed son-in-law, looked him square in the eye, and said, “You guys are a team. Never forget that. Take care of each other.” They walked me to my SUV and I got in. I waved and blew kisses until I couldn’t see them anymore, then I broke down and cried.
I ran out of tears just as I crossed the Colorado/Nebraska border. I knew this pain would turn into something beautiful, but what that would be was going to take a while. Eventually, my thoughts turned towards the adventure that lay ahead. I love road trips for starters, they are always good for my head. It gives me a chance to think about things and clear some space for new ideas to emerge. AND since I could take my time on this first day, I was able to squeeze in some photography as well.
I took a post-cry selfie, a selfie in front of Wyoming, Nebraska, and South Dakota signs. I spent an hour photographing an abandoned house on the side of the road somewhere in Wyoming and a small white chapel with a graveyard in Nebraska. I got tired somewhere near Sioux Falls, South Dakota, so I found some cheap motel and when I walked into the lobby, I was immediately greeted by two giant growling Rottweilers that ran up to the counter and stared me down until their human made an appearance. I got settled in, ordered some pizza, and video-chatted with the kids for a bit. My Nugget was struggling the most, “Nonna come back, please.” Big fat tears welled up in my eyes, “This is just for a little while, Nonna will see you when you come for Christmas.” A full tummy and spent emotions had me in bed fairly early. I focused on the feeling of arriving to my cabin and fell promptly to sleep. Gram and Grandpa both met me in that dream world, all smiles, because I was finally coming home.
The last 40 miles on Highway 6 from Deer River to Rehoboth is the longest stretch of the trip in my opinion. It has a so-close-so-far-away feeling. It is a liminal place between the now and the beautiful not yet. The magic of the land starts to seduce me on that highway. My great-grandparents Charles & Iness homesteaded in Rehoboth. The connection to the land is in my DNA, passed down from my great-grandparents, to my Grandpa, then my Dad, and to me. If you had told me that ten years after Dad’s passing that I would be moving back to Rehoboth, I wouldn’t have believed you. I had spent the last 10 years since his passing, becoming more and more comfortable with the spiritual gifts that I had spent most of my life suppressing. If it weren’t for my Gram and Aunt Sarah, who I inherited my gifts from, making space for me to learn and practice, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
The sign for Rehoboth came into view and my heart skipped a beat. The only thing about Rehoboth that has changed in my lifetime is the population, which currently sits at 174. The families who live here have been here for generations, the descendants of people that my Grandpa went to high school with in the 1930s still live here and I love that. I pulled up to the one mercantile in town. I insisted the movers meet me there, as my little cabin in the woods doesn’t have an address. I pulled up behind the moving truck, feeling rather impressed that everything I own fits in a 10ft box truck with room to spare. I got out of the car and knocked on the driver’s side window to talk with the driver.
“Thank you so much for meeting me here, I hope you haven’t been waiting for me too long.” The driver shook his head no and smiled. “If you’re ready to follow me out to the property, we can get going. I just ask that when we arrive, you give me a moment to go into the cabin to do something, before we start moving things in.” The driver smiled, “Absolutely! We don’t mind at all.” I turned around going back towards the state highway to head further north. I checked my rearview mirror to make sure they were behind me. I turned east on the last paved road we would drive on before turning onto the dirt road. The anticipation was rising in my chest, the excitement was palpable in my heart rate when I turned on the dirt road, that would take me to my very own cabin in the woods.
I smiled when I saw my driveway coming into view. Turning, I braced myself for the happy tears that were already threatening to roll down my cheeks. There it is. My little red cabin in the woods. The porch faced Aunt Sarah’s favorite tree and the picture window in the living room turned out perfectly. It was going to be amazing to witness the turning of seasons through that window. I parked and turned off the car. The first thing I did was hug the tree. I didn’t care at all if the movers thought I was crazy. I was home and happy. The contractor left the keys in a lockbox on the front door. I typed in the code and got the keys. With one deep breath to steady my heart and shaky hands, I put the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.
My eyes adjusted to the light. I was right to go with the open floor plan. The kitchen and living room flowed together perfectly. My eyes landed on something sitting on the island, I walked over and found it was a rolled-up piece of birch bark with a black leather cord wrapped around the center. I untied the leather knot and opened it, immediately recognizing my Grandpa’s handwriting, “May goodness and mercy follow you all of your days. Welcome home.” There was no holding back the tears at that point. Sure, I frequently am visited by my Gram, Aunt Sarah, and my Dad, but Grandpa? He’s been gone for 30 years. His visits are less frequent, and they are usually more subtle, I can smell him rather than hear or see him.
I stepped outside and said we could start moving things in. I let them do the heavy lifting while I directed and began to get things out of my car. It took an hour to get everything unloaded and the movers were on the road. I sat on the couch and soaked everything in for a moment. I got my phone and noticed my reception wasn’t good enough to call the kids, so I turned on the wifi. Getting wifi to this location was a challenge, I had to go with a satellite company to get any service out there. I logged in on my phone and immediately called the kids. “Look girls it’s Nonna!” The girls shouted “Nonna!!” and came running to the phone. Everyone then got the grand tour. I showed them the open-space kitchen and living room concept. The awesome stove that looked like an antique wood-burning stove, but was actually gas. I showed them the built-in bookshelves for all my books and the little loft where the girls would sleep when they came for Christmas. I showed them my bedroom and bathroom, the guest room, and the guest bathroom. Then, I took them outside.
“Nonna, where are the fairies?” My Nugget asks. “They are around I’m sure.” I showed my daughter the note on the birch bark and the look on her face said everything. She has only been to the woods here once, when she was a little girl. She never knew Grandpa or Aunt Sarah, and only met Gram a few times. To say that I was looking forward to their arrival at Christmas would be an overstatement. She longs for these woods just like I did. “Okay! Nonna needs to find her things and take a shower! I will talk to y’all later!” We hung up after a bunch of virtual kisses and I love you’s.
I still had my car to unload, but I just went out and got the basic things I would need for the night. I grabbed my suitcase and toiletries out of the car and brought them in. I found the box that had towels in it and got into my custom-designed shower. I didn’t want a tub, but a big shower. A shower big enough to do some yoga poses in with a built-in bench and my contractor delivered. The window I had installed allowed the perfect amount of natural light. I selected a rainfall showerhead. This had to be the most blissful shower I have ever taken.
While I was getting dressed, I heard something in the kitchen. Someone was opening cabinet doors like they were looking for something. More curious than afraid, I walked out of my room and there stood Gram and Aunt Sarah with big smiles. “Welcome home Eudora Evelyn.” Home. I was home. And while I missed my kids and granddaughters, I knew that I was making the right decision. I found the box with all the tea, teacups, and the tea kettle. I filled it up and put it on the brand-new stove. “Do you love how it turned out?” Gram asked me. “Oh my god YES. This is so amazing! I would love to hear what Grandpa thinks!” My Grandpa was a contractor, and his father was a cabinet maker. The cabinets I chose are solid pine and unstained. The counters are black and white granite, straight from a quarry not far from Rehoboth. I made Gram and Aunt Sarah their tea and they sat at the table while I unpacked the kitchen. Of the two, my Aunt Sarah had been gone the longest, Gram was more recently “deceased” having made it into the 21st century. While my cabin did have some modern amenities like internet, electricity, running water, and heat, I chose to also install an old wood-burning stove on the off chance the grid failed. It was also a nod to a more rustic way of living. I love the simplicity of it too.
“What are your plans Eudora?” Gram asked me.
“My book is in the hands of the publisher and there is already talk of a second one. For the time being, since I finally finished my master’s degree, I want to teach. My old philosophy and humanities professors are helping me secure a position to teach online at the Community College of Denver. My philosophy professor is so proud he can hardly stand it.”
Gram replied, “He’s not the only one.” Aunt Sarah nodded her head in consensus. “I want to get good and settled here and establish some sort of routine. Before we know it, Christmas will be here and so will the kids. I want to make sure I have everything ready for that too. I don’t think I have been this excited about a Christmas ever.” We talked about future gardening plans, “Plant the first full moon in June.” Was Aunt Sarah’s sage advice. I began to feel tired, looking at the clock I realized it was already one in the morning. I felt satisfied that I had the kitchen in a place where I could make myself breakfast and coffee in the morning. I said goodnight to Gram and Aunt Sarah and collapsed into my bed.
I woke to the sound of the chickadees singing. Smiling and stretching I laid in bed blissfully listening to the birds and the wind in the trees. To live in these woods is to live in another realm. While yes, the natural world does exist here, I view it as a portal more than anything. There was always talk of UFO sightings, but no encounters with aliens. This left a lot to the imagination. I, Aunt Sarah, and Gram have seen a UFO. Aunt Sarah claims one landed in the field even. Now that I am here living on her land, I wondered what supernatural encounters I would have, aside from the occasional visits from the ancestors.
I got out of bed to get coffee and breakfast going. I threw on some comfy clothes and grabbed a sweater, along with a book of poems by my favorite poet, William Butler Yeats to read to Aunt Sarah’s favorite tree and of course the fairies and Darrel the tree nymph. I had kept them waiting long enough. Heading out the front door, I went straight to our Momma Tree and gave her a good morning hug. I was going to need to level out the ground around her so I could sit with her and read. In the meantime, sitting on the ground would have to do. “What poem am I reading today?” I said out loud. Then I heard a little rustle. I was acutely aware that I was being watched. “Do you want to hear the Two Trees? I know it’s your favorite.” Another rustle and this time it was a little closer. “Darrell, I know you’re there. But you don’t have to come out if you don’t want to.” I began to read,
“Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There, through bewildered branches, go
Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife,
Tossing and tossing to and fro
The flaming circle of our life.
When looking on their shaken hair,
And dreaming how they dance and dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows,
With broken boughs, and blackened leaves,
And roots half hidden under snows
Driven by a storm that ever grieves.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Peering and flying to and fro
To see men’s souls bartered and bought.
When they are heard upon the wind,
And when they shake their wings; alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.”
A gentle wind blew and I watched the leaves fall. The contentment and peace I felt in this moment had been 30 years in the making. I was home. Life was good and I was going to be okay. A host of familiar voices whispered, “Welcome home Eudora Evelyn.”
The End
(For Now Anyway)
* Rehoboth – Hebrew word for “Open space, God given open space to prosper”
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