Christmas has a way of surprising us—not always through lights, music, or wrapped packages, but through something quieter. Sometimes it arrives without announcement. Sometimes it comes through a person who pauses long enough to see you.
I experienced one of those moments recently. A Christmas kindness I didn’t expect—and one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since.
In the middle of an ordinary stretch of days, I received a message from Robert Schwartz, author of Your Soul’s Plan, Your Soul’s Gift, and Your Soul’s Love. What first humbled me was simply that he reached out at all—taking the time to write, to acknowledge my words, and to let me know he follows my writing. That alone stopped me in my tracks.
But the heart of his message went deeper.
He acknowledged the anguish I’ve been carrying after the death of my brother, Tim, who died by suicide. Not with explanations. Not with platitudes. Just with presence. He shared that he wanted to send one of his books in the hope that it might offer comfort as I continue navigating grief—a season where words often feel insufficient and the weight can feel isolating.
That kind of attentiveness matters. Especially at Christmas.
Robert Schwartz’s books explore questions many people wrestle with quietly: life purpose, personal challenges, suffering, love, and the possibility that our experiences carry meaning beyond what we can immediately see. His work leans into reflection rather than certainty, inviting readers to consider how life’s most difficult moments may shape us in ways that unfold over time.
I first came across his work through Amazon, where his author page shares more about both his writing and his background. His books—Your Soul’s Plan, Your Soul’s Gift, and Your Soul’s Love—are available there, and additional information about his work can also be found on his website at www.yoursoulsplan.com.
What moved me most was not simply what he has written, but how closely his gesture aligned with the heart behind the work. The book was not offered as an answer or a solution, but as a companion—an offering meant to sit alongside grief, not explain it away. I imagine it may offer comfort and insight as I continue finding my footing after losing my brother.
Christmas, at its core, is not about spectacle. It is about incarnation—love showing up in human form. Presence offered without agenda. Light entering quietly into dark places. And sometimes that light comes not through grand gestures, but through someone choosing to see another person’s pain and respond gently.
I wanted to share this moment not to elevate anyone, but to honor the kind of humanity that often goes unnoticed.
Christmas reminds us that the most meaningful gifts are often unannounced. They arrive quietly. They linger. They remind us that kindness still moves through the world—one thoughtful act at a time.
This was a Christmas kindness I didn’t expect.
But it is one I will not forget.
The holidays can be especially hard for those carrying loss.
If you—or someone you care about—are struggling during this season, these books may offer comfort and gentle insight.
Each one is now on my personal Christmas list.
.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
— Matthew 5:4
Grateful for the grace that met me this Christmas,
and holding a quiet hope that others may feel its warmth as well,
—Tina N. Campbell | Scribed in Light
Scribed In Light 
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