The Meaning of a Special Soul - A Letter from Serena to Babcia
- ko6540
- Dec 2, 2025
- 5 min read
What Advent Teaches Us About the Special Soul
Advent has already begun. The world around me feels both hurried and expectant. Today I walked through the mall, lights glittering, people rushing, bags rustling like paper wings. Yet on my way home, a quiet thought came over me - that the greatest gifts aren’t bought, but carried in the soul.
With this on my mind, I sat down to write you.
Dear Babcia,
There are gifts wrapped in paper, tied with a string. And then there are gifts wrapped in silence, wrapped in presence, wrapped in love that sees what is often missed. The world teaches us that gifts are things.
Flowers in bloom, treasures from the shelf, inked letters with words pressed between pages. But the soul knows another kind of giving.
A gift is the moment someone looks at you and truly sees.
A gift is a voice that doesn’t rush to fix, but stays to listen.
A gift is a favour no one asked for, but one freely given in the name of love.
A gift is time. Stillness. A warm gaze. A whispered prayer.
I try to give from this place, not just from my hands, but from my heart.
I choose with care, because I want my giving to say more than “I remembered.”
I want it to say, “I see you. I see what delights you, what burdens you, what makes you silently glow.”
God fills my life with gifts, holy and hidden. He gives me people. Not perfect ones, but real ones. Hearts that love me in ways I don’t always understand. People who stay. People who see. People who carry my fears like fragile glass and offer back peace in return. They are living answers to prayers I never prayed aloud. There are gifts that arrive like sunlight, bright, certain, undeniable. And there are others that come like mist. Soft, unnoticed, and quietly sustaining God gives us both.
Sometimes I wonder, am I a gift to the world, too?
Not in grand gestures or elegant words, but in gentle, unnoticed ways. Do I pause long
enough to really see others?
To give what costs nothing, but means everything?
Lord, make my life a gift. Let my presence bring peace. Let my words carry warmth. Let my love be a reflection of Yours. Quiet, steady, and true. Let me live in the hidden language of giving.
Not just to remember others, but to reveal to them that they are already known.
What makes a special soul?
Many attributes are brought forth when debated. Everyone is a special soul; everyone has their special souls. It’s easy to think the most valuable personalities are the flashy ones. The life of the party who moves through the world with boldness and certainty. As I walk nearer with the Lord, I quickly learned that the special little spark, rather light in souls, is rarely obvious or loud.
A special soul doesn’t look to be noticed. It notices.
A special soul pauses, listens and sees individuals not for what they speak but for who they are.
Special souls are like a lantern, not leaving, but leading a path, as warmth and serenity follow.
They don’t seek to impress but to bless.
They’re the ones who quietly sit with you, healing and holding feelings too deep for words. These special souls aren’t perfect, oh no no no. In Fact, these are the souls who’ve been broken and suffered, yet mended by grace and faith. They walk with the strength of knowing what it means to be held by God. I think of these souls as windows, humble, open, willing. They don’t produce light, but they let it through. They let God shine through them like sunlight through stained glass. Casting colour, beauty, and wonder into darkness.
Many times, you can recognize a soul. Is it that we met before time began, or that our hearts simply speak the same silent language? Perhaps it feels like staring into a mirror, or a doorway. Looking into their eyes, you remember a little more of who you are. Or maybe, in this wide and spinning world, God lets us see each other truly, just often enough to keep hope alive.
I hope I am able to look in the eye one day, the soul. That I'll be recognized with a familiar warmth. Not for who I am but for whose I am. I am not just my own. I am God’s. Held. Known. Chosen. Even when I forget who I am, He never forgets Whose I am. So just maybe, that familiar warmth will be God, shining through my soul, leaving soft prints on longing souls.
If we loved like dogs
If we loved like dogs, with an unguarded heart, perhaps our presence could bring more peace than bitter judgment. To love like a dog is to greet the world with soft, yearning eyes, forgiving without being asked, and staying when the door is left open. Dogs love without keeping score, no silent wars of emotions too hard to carry. They love us at our best and worst.
Maybe if we learned that, relationships can feel emotionally safe. The downside of living like a dog is having almost blindsided affection, puppy love. You don’t see the flaws as a dog, which can sometimes be red flags. Setting boundaries, rather than consistently letting stuff happen. Human minds hold a different level of perplexity, emotions that not even words can always express. Sometimes puppy love can overly simplify those needs and emotions.
So in conclusion, meet in the middle
Be wise enough to leave, brave enough to stay, be soft with trust and fierce with loyalty. It’s interesting how things shaped as love can welcome you into a game you never agreed to play.
One moment I am so sure of myself, knowing I am better off without the mixed feelings and battle of my brain and heart.
Love, real love, isn’t a game, even though people sometimes make it feel like one.
And so here I am, Babcia.
Still learning.
Still becoming.
Still praying to be a special soul—a soul who notices, who blesses, who sees, and who lets God’s quiet light shine through.
With love and a warm Advent hug,
Serena
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