The Hearth
a cosy nook in this Soul Space home
Hello friends,
I hope you’re well, and making it towards the end of this dark January1. I’ve been thinking about the ‘host’ of soul spaces I offer, and imagining this as a house of varied rooms. There’s another Soul Space that I’m looking forward to offering here on this Substack; come on in and I’ll tell you more.
Welcome, can I take your coat? It’s dreich2 out there isn’t it? The kettle’s just boiled, Can I get you a tea?
Have a wee nosey around the place, make yourself at home.
The study is through there: do you see the two armchairs, the crocheted blankets folded at their backs? There’s a hush, inviting quiet conversation and sacred truths spoken. Books of poetry and blessings are carefully stacked on the side table. In there we close the door, light a candle and pause for Spiritual Accompaniment.
You can see the colourful chaos through that next door. Bright blocks lead to carefully created masterpieces. There’s a half cup of coffee on a shelf perched by a scribbled family portrait. Here we sit cross-legged on the Totter and Tumble mat, and create a quiet moment for mums amidst the mess.
Did you hear the laughter from the kitchen? There’s a Seasonal Soul Session gathered. Here’s a wooden table scattered with magazine clippings and surrounded by benches. Piano music gently plays and the group here settle into their own time: journaling, drawing, pondering, there’ll be chance to chat later.
Here there are a host of Soul Spaces, different rooms where you might find a gentle pause, they won’t all be for you and that’s just fine.
There’s one last place you may not have noticed before. A fire set into the wall, a ragtag gathering of chairs horseshoed around it. Kick off your walking boots and warm your hands and feet by the flames. Here we gather as weary pilgrims with our honest questions about faith and God and how we live this life together. We break bread and hold both hope and doubt in the firelight. We wonder together about what might sustain us when old rhythms seem to have worn out. Someone brought soup, and another crackers and cheese. We’ll cobble something nourishing together.
I write this as one who trusts that we are held by Divine goodness and love. I long to live this faith through my hands and my feet, alongside other bodies. I attend a local church, and I have friends who I love and respect in the leadership of various churches. I also write this as one who knows the wrestle when the internal shape of my soul no longer fits neatly into the lines of an institution. I offer my words here with humility, hoping that this fireside space can warm and comfort a few of us.
If you find yourself on the edges of the faith you once indwelled, there’s a seat for you here. The Hearth will be a monthly Substack post alongside my usual free monthly post throughout 2026. It is a resting place for hopeful skeptics3 and weary pilgrims. The posts will have gentle thoughts, practices, literary mentors, prayers, poems and blessings.
The subscription is £40 per year, or £4 per month, but if that is not in your budget, I would love to pull up a chair and gift you a spot, just send me a message saying ‘yes please’ (or something along those lines). The paywall is to create a cosier spot here in the wilds of the internet.
You are welcome here at The Hearth…
If you’re part of a congregation, dwelling on the edge or sleeping in on Sundays
You are welcome if prayers pass your lips, or if your practice is silence.
You are welcome if you still move in a rhythm of faith, if you’re sifting out the parts you want to keep, or if you want to walk away from it all.
You are welcome if you find the sacred in nature, in silence, in liturgy, in action.
You are welcome if you come with grief or gratitude, hurt or hope (or any combination)
You are welcome as we gather here
With honesty and open hearts,
With respect for questions and doubts,
With kindness to ourselves, one another, and our stories.
It doesn’t look like it used to, but we keep walking, keep hoping, keep dreaming.
And if this isn’t for you, you are so welcome to continue receiving my free monthly emails with my usual soul space ponderings and prompts.
With love,
Debbie
P.S. My friend Jen Goodyer has also written about a hearth this week (perhaps we’re feeling the cold), her beautiful imagery around ‘Returning to the Hearth of my Soul’ is well worth a read.
Unless you’re in the Southern hemisphere of course.
Scots for dreary or bleak.
Apparently the British English spelling is sceptic, but I can’t stop writing it with a k.
I've loved your seasonal Soul Sessions, Debbie, and am looking forward to cosy companionship and nourishing conversation in this space too, as I start my own new creative adventure with my Atelier Lectio substack space.
The house metaphor is beautifully done. What got me was how the different rooms acknowlege that spiritual practice isn't one-size-fits-all. I've been in spaces that tried to force everyone into the same mold and it never worked. The hearth idea feels especially needed right now when so many folks are in that inbetween space but still need communtiy.