Brooke Bullman introduced me to the idea of soul home.  “Where,” she asks, “is your soul home?”

My husband had an unexpected response.  He chose the restaurant, Jason’s Deli.  Our family giggled at his answer, teasing him.  But, when I asked him to explain, he said we were always happy there—food and smiles in abundance.  He likes providing for his family, giving me a night off from cooking, and helping the kids get soft-serve ice cream for dessert.

I had trouble answering this question with just one place.  During the “Jason’s Deli” discussion, I think I said my soul home was in the mountains, where it is easier to feel close to God.  In truth, Jesus is our soul home.  So, my interpretation of Brooke’s question is, Where do you feel closest to Jesus?  Where do you feel the peace of heaven here on earth?  My husband glimpses heaven when he looks at the joyful faces of the ones he loves around a brimming table.

The soul home of my imagination is a small cabin in the country on a Saturday morning, where my family awakens to dappled light on the wall and birdsong outside the open windows.  I have time to read my Bible and pray before making an old-fashioned breakfast for us to share.  Then, there is time for a stroll or a canoe ride, time to tend the flowers in the front bed, and time to write a little before lunch.

But perhaps my soul home is in this writing room, with a candle flickering atop this pretty desk my benevolent father-in-law gave to me with the excuse that he was too tall for it and kept bumping his knees.  Here, I am surrounded by books that have shaped me, the majority of them being beloved picture books, on whose pages I glimpse God.

Or maybe my soul home is that patch of rock beside the gurgling creek where my husband and I sat yesterday morning, just the two of us, talking, praying, basking, dreaming, as the sunlight danced over the minnows. And so I repeat Brooke’s question, “Where is your soul home?”