When A Dream Becomes A Nightmare

We are sitting in the Boston airport and people are milling about. We’re here early, with four hours before our flight.

No, that’s not right. We’re sitting in a field.

Nope. That’s not right either. I have no idea where we are. I don’t remember a thing about the setting. We’re not in our house. We aren’t at the airport. Not even a hotel. We’re in some other-worldly place. A place I’ve never seen before. A place I can’t describe.

My husband and I are standing across from each other. “I don’t want this!” I cry. “This is NOT what I want to do!” My arms are crossed and hot streams of tears are flowing down my face like jets in a jacuzzi. I don’t know where my kids are. My guess is they are off somewhere playing with friends—or maybe crying angry tears of their own. Heck, they could be sitting on the sidelines, watching as I scream at David in between gasps for air.

“I’m not okay this time around,” I scream erratically. “We did this once. We left everything behind to come here. And I know you think moving back to Georgia is moving home. But it’s not going to be like that!” I can see his face start to crumble, but I can’t gain control of myself. I have no desire to protect his emotions. Right now I simply have to get it all off my chest. In rapid fire, I throw out one sentence after another.

“We’ve changed so much in the last eight years that moving back to Georgia will be like moving to a foreign land. We can never go home again. It will never be home again! We’ll never own that house on Cherokee Place. Grant Park will never again be our neighborhood. And even if we did buy that house and move back to that neighborhood, so many of the people we loved so much when we were there are gone. They’ve all moved on as well.”

I’m so caught up in my own emotions that I don’t even notice how he responds. I start to crumble into a ball on the floor and sob uncontrollably and he begins to talk in a much calmer voice than mine. “But I've already rented us a house. We already have a place to go. We can make it home!”

I look up at him and he takes it as a cue to keep going. “Your mom will be there. And your sisters will be there. And your aunts will be there. Our kids can have family again! There will always be cousins to share birthdays with. There will always be people to come watch dance events! We know churches and pastors in the neighborhood. Our kids can grow up going to Affirm! We’ll never have to do Thanksgiving or Christmas on our own.

“This won’t be like moving to Massachusetts. We already have a community there. We just have to tell them we're coming home and they're going to wrap their arms around us and welcome us home.”

But I don’t believe him. I don’t believe a word of it. He thinks this is going to be like the prodigal son. But I’m not so sure.

I'm thinking about having to start over with children that are nine and almost twelve. They are in this tweeny age, where everything feels so important and so dramatic. I'm dreading the animosity that's going to come from this move. Not only in my own heart, but in the hearts of my children. I feel this deep, physical pain in my heart from what I know is about to happen.

I gather myself and step away to call my friend Jon, who lives in the neighborhood where David has rented a house. And I beg him, “Please please tell me that you're going to be home tomorrow. We’ll be in town sometime mid-afternoon. That's when we'll be moving into our house. And it would be really great for me if you were there.” Even though everything inside of me thinks moving back is the wrong decision, something just tells me that if he is going to be there, then I could do this. I could be okay.

But his response to me is so jarring. Not at all what I expect.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to work in the city every day, and am hardly at home. I don't know when I'll be able to see you. I promise I will, but it may be a few days.”

I toss and turn, my sleep becoming restless. Jon’s rejection wakes me up with a start. I feel so raw. I shake my head, a physical act to remind myself it isn’t real—it was only a dream—and then I think to myself: what once was a dream has now become a nightmare.

It was October eight years ago that we visited Boston for the very first time. On this exact day, October 20, 2015, we put our beloved bungalow on Cherokee Place on the pre-market. Six weeks later, it belonged to someone else, and I cried about it every single day.

Six months after we moved to Massachusetts, I pleaded with God in the middle of the night. Please, Lord. Please. Make a way for us to move back home. David started looking for jobs in the Atlanta area. What we felt certain would be easy proved to be impossible. We did move again, but not back to Georgia. Instead we moved to the beach.

It would be lying to say we’ve been happy in Massachusetts ever since. The last eight years have been filled with wandering. And wondering. Perhaps they are one and the same.

We have frequent talks about moving back. What neighborhood we might live in, what church we would go to, and how we could reconnect with our community there. We still catch ourselves looking at houses full of Southern charm with deep longing and painful tugs of the heart. Just a few months ago, I called our Atlanta realtor to inquire about a condo that had just come on the market. “Maybe we can split our time,” I said.

Dreams are weird. Sometimes they pop out of nowhere; haunting us for days. I wish I knew what prompted this one. Was it merely coincidence that the dream occurred on the very same day we first visited Boston eight years ago? Has my brain become rewired to think about home when the leaves start to fall?

Or was it a subtle message from God? A nudge to embrace what I have, to be grateful for the moments, to wake up and notice the community we’ve created for ourselves. Maybe even a nudge to admit that New England finally feels like home.

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Haunted".

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Don’t forget to check out Soul Munchies on Substack! Each month I send a free newsletter, where I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox.

Writing in Nuggets

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I wish I could tell you I have a solid writing routine. That I wake early to write before the kids wake. Or that I stay up after bedtime to journal about the day. Go to my home office every afternoon while my kids play silently on their own. But none of that happens every day. Heck, most of that never happens at all. 

As a homeschooling mama of two tweens, uninterrupted time is hard to find. It’s not because I don’t prioritize writing. It’s simply because no day looks quite like any other. I don’t have regular times at home alone. My husband works from home. Except when he doesn’t. I don’t have an office outside the house where I can escape. I do a lot of writing at public libraries when my kids are at nature class, dance lessons, or gymnastics workouts. 

For a glimpse at what writing looks like in this stage of life, head on over to the Literary Mama blog!

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Don’t forget to check out Soul Munchies on Substack! Each month I send a free newsletter, where I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. You can also sign up for a Premium Subscription, where you’ll get even more goodies every month.

Earth Day Black Bean Burgers [Meals Under $15]

We joined Raddish Kids in March 2020, when everything shut down. All the kids’ activities were canceled, and we found ourselves with loads of time on our hands. With recipes created specifically for young chefs, I thought it would be a great way for my kids to learn to cook on their own. What I didn’t anticipate was the excitement they would have over kicking me out of the kitchen and making dinner without me. The recipe for Earth Burgers came out in a Spring Recipe kit. It quickly became a favorite in our house, with my youngest even begging for it for her birthday meal. It’s the most used Raddish recipe in our cart, and my kids can almost make it from memory.

This is a great dinner for Earth Day. It’s 100% vegetarian and celebrates all the flavor of good vegetables. You can make it vegan by skipping the cheese and worcestershire sauce and using this quick substitution for eggs: mix 2 Tbsp flax meal with 5 Tbsp water, let sit for a few minutes. Add to mixture in place of eggs.

Print

Earth Burgers

Yield: 8-10 sliders

Author: Crystal Rowe, adapted from Raddish Kids

Ingredients

• 3 cups cooked beans (black, pinto, red, or any other favorite) If using canned beans, you'll need 2 cans
• 1/4 cup minced cilantro
• 1 tsp cumin
• 1 tsp chili powder
• 1/2 tsp garlic powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 Tbsp flour
• 4 tsp Worcestershire sauce
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup breadcrumbs
• vegetable oil for cooking
• 8 slices cheese (we like provolone or muenster, but cheddar or american is good too!)
• 8-10 slider buns
• lettuce, tomato, red onion, pickles, ketchup, mustard, or anything else you like on top of your burger

Instructions

1. Drain and rinse beans.
2. Line a baking sheet with paper towels. Pour beans onto lined baking sheet and let dry for 10-15 minutes.
3. Mix cilantro, cumin, chili powder, garlic powder, salt, flower, and Worcestershire sauce in a large bowl.
4. Add beans to bowl. Mash with a potato masher or a fork until beans are broken into small pieces. You don't want it to be smooth - you want some chunks!
5. In a small bowl, whisk two eggs until smooth. Add to bowl with beans and spices.
6. Add bread crumbs to bean mixture. Stir until all the ingredients are well combined.
7. Divide mixture into 8-10 equal balls. Gently flatten into patties the size of your buns.
8. Preheat 1/4 cup of vegetable oil in a skillet over medium heat. When hot, add patties, cooking five minutes until browned. Flip and cook another 4 minutes.
9. Add cheese to burgers and cook for another minute or two, until cheese is slightly melted and burger is browned on bottom.
10. Drain burgers on a plate lined with a paper towel while you cook the second batch.
11. Assemble your burger the way you like it, adding whatever toppings you prefer.

Acrostic Poetry [The Darling Files 006]

In April 2021, I took a Poetry course offered by Callie Feyen and Exhale Creativity. Many of the poems I drafted in that course have been sitting in my files ever since. Since April is National Poetry Month, I thought it was a good time to pull these out of storage. Written when we were returning to church for the first time post pandemic, they remind me that hope and beauty can come out of pain.

The Acrostic is a type of poetry where the first letter of each line spells out a word or phrase, which becomes the title or theme of the poem. Have you written any acrostic poems? If so, I’d love for you to share them in the comments below!

She slips into the pew quietly. Having been
away for over a year, she’s 
not sure it will be 
church like she remembers—
there’s no singing, no choir, no people to hug—
usual communal offerings now threats. Her heart 
aches for the missing—for what is lost;
raising her hands she whispers a prayer
yearning for God’s peace.

Beloved faces gather 
remembering people who have gone before;
each person around the table sharing
abundant love,
knitting stories together 
into a beautiful tapestry
never before seen; a work of art
generously gifted in community. 

Breaking hearts assemble
reflecting on 
extraordinary loss;
ancestors gone before us sharing faith in knowing
death brings new life and beginning.

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This post is part of The Darling Files, a project initiated by my friends Rachel Nevergall and Callie Feyen. You can read more about The Darling Files from Rachel here and from Callie here.

You can read more of The Darling Files here.

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Don’t forget to check out Soul Munchies on Substack! Each month I send a free newsletter, where I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. You can also sign up for a Premium Subscription, where you’ll get even more goodies every month.

Where We Read [March 2023]

Well, here we are, already at the end of March. March began in Winter, with snow storms and lots of reading on the couch under multiple blankets.

A favorite series this month was Happy Hollisters. I think they checked out every book we could find in the library system.

One evening while the littlest was at gymnastics, the oldest picked up a Happy Hollister book, Hubs sat next to me to read Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone and I flew through The Writing Retreat.

I started making my way through L.M. Montgomery’s Emily series, with the dog nestled snugly on my legs.

My lap became his favorite place to be this month. Sometimes he’d fight the book for the favored spot.

Other times he settled for the pillow on the other end of the couch.

He really loved reading Flamer with the girls one Saturday morning.

They continued reading Happy Hollisters, as well as The Meanest Doll in the World, over afternoon brownies.

She discovered the pup made a really great pillow while she read The Impossible Quest: Battle of the Heroes.

I brought back read aloud time before bed a few nights a week with We Dream of Space. Although I didn’t plan it, it coincides nicely with the Astronomy unit we were using for Science.

By the middle of the month, I was tired of Winter, but Mother Nature disagreed, so I stayed on the couch reading this month’s book club selection, March.

We finished our journey through Find the Constellations written by the one and only H.A. Rey, best known for Curious George. They made a Solar System model out of air dry clay, using the book as their guide.

On the first day of Spring, I kicked the kids outside and laid on the sunroom couch to read Independence. I was done in a day. I simply couldn’t put it down.

One day I took the girls to the library so I could do some research on graphic novels for The Woebegone Literary Society. They were tasked with finding nonfiction books about any science topic they wanted to learn about. I brought this stack of graphic novels home.

They chose books on gravity, metals, birds, and marsupials. The weather finally decided to take a turn for the better, so they took their library books outside for a picnic lunch.

The next morning, before breakfast, they decided to see if Anya’s Ghost or Passport were any good.

I decided it was time for Spring Cleaning and changed up the curtains and blankets in the living room. Then made myself a cup of tea and sat down to begin Weyward, while she continued her graphic novel journey with Be Prepared.

We hosted our niece-by-choice for a sleepover one Saturday night and they made me read Twenty Yawns to get us all ready for bed.

And this is how the last week of March began. Sunshine streaming through the windows, quilt on our lap, books in hand.

By the time March ended, Spring had sprung! The sun was glorious, so we took Seabird and The Children’s Homer outside to complete our lessons for the day.

As soon as we finished our lessons, I claimed the blanket for myself and read the last half of Weyward. Another book I just absolutely could not put down.

Technically March isn’t over yet, but we are heading out of town later this week so I wanted to go ahead and get this out. Where (and what) are you reading this month?

We do buy a lot of books, but we also check 25-50 out of the library in any given week. If I could include links to these books that went directly to your library holds list, I would, but I can’t. So, I include affiliate links instead. If you choose to buy a book, I get a very small percentage of your purchase. You can think of it as a very small finder’s fee. But seriously, use the library. It can be your very best friend.

a walk in the woods [The Darling Files 005]

Drop my kids off at nature class 
and take myself on a date
a solo walk in the woods

Forget a map to guide my way
no service to look it up
I briefly panic

What if I get lost? 

Sunlight glimmers through dense treetops
urging me to keep going
not to be afraid

I’ve been on these trails before
keep turning left and eventually
end up where you started

I think.

Wandering along the trail
I come upon an old stone bridge 
smiling at my reflection in the water below

A honking goose swims my way
angry that I dare cross his path 
he flies at me, long black neck a sword

I run away afraid.

Gnarled tree roots await
seven worn steps beckoning
me to climb up a steep hill 

Greeted at the top by forceful hammering 
of a red-bellied woodpecker
hunting for bugs in an old decaying tree

I perch upon an old worn bench

A cool wind blows upon my face
brown and withered birch leaves dance
their final frolic until the new are ready to burst with life

A nuthatch hops down an old tree trunk
Landing at my feet
Looking up as if to ask 

Why did you forget to bring seed?

My old friend
chickadee lands on the bench
“Hello!” he chirps

“Why don’t you sit a while and simply breathe?”

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This post is part of The Darling Files, a project initiated by my friends Rachel Nevergall and Callie Feyen. You can read more about The Darling Files from Rachel here and from Callie here.

You can read more of The Darling Files here.

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Don’t forget to check out Soul Munchies on Substack! Each month I send a free newsletter, where I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. You can also sign up for a Premium Subscription, where you’ll get even more goodies every month.

The Beauty of Motherhood: A Book for Every Mother in the Trenches

Today, my beautiful friends Kim Knowle-Zeller and Erin Strybis have given birth to a book every mother needs. The Beauty of Motherhood: Grace-Filled Devotions For the Early Years is a book of 84 short devotions, each comprised of a Bible verse, a short reflection, a practice to fill your cup, and a prayer.

I’m no longer living in the early years of motherhood. My kids are eleven and eight. There’s not a day that goes by that I look back on those early days and wish for them again. I loved my babies dearly and I’d do it all over again to bring them into my life, but those early years felt damn near impossible. This book is the very book I searched for and could never find.

All too often devotion books offer hidden judgments or prescriptions. “If you do this, then God will show up.” This book has none of that. It won’t tell you how to parent. It won’t tell you it’s better to to sleep train or co-sleep. It won’t argue that breastfeeding is better than formula. It won’t give you answers for all the questions you have.

Instead, Kim & Erin offer encouragement to see God in the midst of the struggle that comes with motherhood. They lift up the beauty hidden within the mess. From the earliest days of considering pregnancy to the milestone of starting school, this book holds all mothers with tenderness and love. It shares grace with us. It reminds us that we are good enough. That we are the exact mother our child needs.

I am so grateful that my friends have brought it into the world today.

This book will sit with you in the muck of sleepless nights, of lonely times, of seasons of grief, loss or infertility. This book is more than a book. Its words are a gift from God.

You know what else I love about this book? You can get it on Kindle. When you’re up late, or early, or not sleeping much at all, and you’re sitting there rocking the baby back and forth, you can read it without having to turn a page. I read so many books that way when my kids were babies!

Happy release day my dear friends! Thank you for sharing your gifts with the world.

Included links are affiliate links.

The Long Devotion: Poets Writing About Motherhood [A Personal Reflection]

I bought a hard copy of The Long Devotion after a Senior Editor at Literary Mama asked me to write a review. The book sat on my nightstand for months collecting dust. I kept neglecting it because it hit too close to home; the poems and essays stirred up too many emotions I didn’t want to handle. When I finally made it a priority, I read it slowly; just a few chunks at a time. I found myself wanting to savor the words. To sit with them a while; let them change me.

I finished reading it on a rare evening alone. Ironically, I was at the beach, having just journaled about how I should give up writing again, when I read an essay by Molly Spencer. After reading the first line, I found myself nodding vehemently. Spencer writes, “When I was in my late twenties, I made a decision: a decision not to be a writer. … I sensed that an artistic life would be all-consuming and that motherhood would be all-consuming. I didn’t think I could do both, and I chose motherhood.”

I, like Spencer, didn’t believe I could do both. But even as I tried to ignore my identity as a writer, I could feel a deep inner desire for the time and space to write. It was not something I could ignore, no matter how hard I tried.

The poems and essays in The Long Devotion reminded me that writing isn’t optional; it’s essential. I can’t wait for the perfect time to write. Instead, I have to write when I can. Accept that it will be fragmented, and trust that it will all come together when the time is right. It’s nearly impossible for me to write uninterruptedly in this stage of life. To wait for the right time, though, is to close up an essential part of who I am as a mother writer. Even if it's only a few sentences a day, it’s better than none. And eventually, all those sentences will add up. 

This week, my book review came out in the March/April 2023 issue of Literary Mama. Writing a literary book review felt like an impossible task, but thanks to the encouragement and advice of incredible editors, the final product is a thousand times better than the original. I hope you’ll head over to Literary Mama and read the review, and then find a copy of The Long Devotion: Poets Writing About Motherhood. I’m pretty you’ll like it. And it’s highly possible it will change the way you think about your creative life.

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Don’t forget to check out Soul Munchies on Substack! Each month I send a free newsletter, where I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. You can also sign up for a Premium Subscription, where you’ll get even more goodies every month.

you can count on me

You can count on me to:

make a delicious meal out of whatever I can find in my refrigerator
invite you to come over and share that meal
vacuum the floor before you get here
but forget to clean the toilet
leave the dirty dishes in the sink while we chat over a glass of wine (or tea, whichever you choose)
deliver a warm meal (and fresh sourdough bread) when you feel like your world is turning upside down and you just can’t bear to leave your house
feed your kids if they happen to be anywhere near my house when the meal bell rings

You can count on me to:

always be prepared with a book recommendation (or a hundred)
have an extra copy of my favorite book to be loaned out at any time
fill the Little Free Library with the best books I can find
give you permission to read a book instead of clean the house
have more than 100 books checked out from the library at any given time

You can count on me to:

dance in the kitchen
sing out loud
lose my phone for days at a time
put cheese in the wrong drawer
leave the laundry in the washing machine overnight
go to the beach—even in the snow

You can count on me to:

ask hard questions
sit with you in the muck
mean it when I say “you are welcome to drop by at any time”
remember memories from “the good old days”
but forget to send a card

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This prompt, “You can count on me to…” was inspired by Amy Krouse Rosenthal from her book, Textbook, and written with the writers of @exhale.creativity.

Don’t forget to check out Soul Munchies on Substack! Each month I send a free newsletter, where I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. You can also sign up for a Premium Subscription, where you’ll get even more goodies every month. Later this week I’m sharing a story about how I made a meal out of nothing, and a special recipe to go along with it!

Where We Read: February 2023

Well February just flew by. Here we are in March already. It felt like I didn’t do much reading last month, but looking back on these photos made me realize I did a ton of reading; I just didn’t finish many books. I love that our homeschool schedule allows us to carve out a few minutes a day to snuggle on the couch and read. We finished up the first half of The Children’s Homer and are looking forward to beginning the second half later this week.

It was haircut month for the girls. If you walked the streets and peeked in the window on the right day, you could spy her reading Wayside School Beneath the Cloud of Doom while she waited for her turn in the stylist’s chair.

She finished Meet George Washington and I slowly made my way through a bit more of Chernow’s Washington: A Life. It may take me all year to finish this book.

And she sat across the living room reading whatever book was left on the chair that day.

Prince Harry joined me for a pasta lunch.

One evening after yoga, I had cheese and crackers for dinner while reading an essay from My Body by Emily Ratajkowski and a chapter or two of Caleb’s Crossing by Geraldine Broks before picking the youngest up at gymnastics.

I carved out one glorious Saturday for reading and writing at my favorite library in all of Massachusetts.

A few days later, it felt like Spring, so I took Spare and The Dead Romantics outside with a nice hot cup of tea.

When I had to take a last minute weekend trip to Georgia, I read every word of For the Love of the Bard for my book club. It made for the perfect travel companion. And when I got home, the author came to our book club gathering, which made it extra fun!

While I was gone, they read books and ate lunch together, turning pages in sync.

When I got back, David left the next day for a work trip and Leo was way sad. He loves to snuggle when he’s sad, especially when she’s reading her history book.

That afternoon, he snuggled on mine when I read another essay from My Body. He likes me to know he misses me when I’m gone.

She took America Grows Up to the kitchen counter and read over a cup of hot tea.

February’s weather was bipolar. When the snow finally showed up , I took Washington: A Life and Remarkably Bright Creatures to the couch with a couple of blankets and stayed there for an hour or two.

The next day brought frigid air, so I read by the fireplace instead.

Later that night, she snuggled next to me on the bed and read The Happy Hollisters on her Kindle while I read Remarkably Bright Creatures. This doesn’t happen often anymore because her evening schedule is so hectic, so I cherish the moments when it does.

The snow just kept falling in Februarry, so I used it as a good excuse to cuddle with the dog on the couch and read The Last Days of Dogtown.

Where’s the coziest place you read this month?