Speak Gently

Good for mind, body, and spirit

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HI! I’m so glad you’re here. I’m a writer speaking gently to connect with you by sharing thoughts, feelings, ideas, observations, opinions, and experience. After all, we can all connect as human beings, and that’s enough.

  • Holiday Feelings

    I turned on the radio in my car the other day, and Christmas music was playing. I instantly switched stations and felt relief and content to hear some classic rock. The same thing happened each time I got in the car, so I started to wonder why. Why do I feel so uncomfortable hearing Christmas music this year? The truth is, I’m not sure. I always miss my parents this time of year and feel nostalgic about past holiday celebrations with my family, but I’m not sure that’s it. I always reflect on my life this time of year and appreciate my blessings. There are numerous reasons for me to be grateful and happy. My husband is loving, family surrounds me often, and the joy my grandson brings me is indescribable.

    So why this uncomfortable feeling? Could it be that there is so much pressure to be joyful around the holidays and I can’t live up to holiday perfection? It could be. I think this year I’m going to say that it is ok not to “feel it” this holiday season. I’m going to try to live in the moment, let my feelings. pass through me, honor them, and just keep going, still enjoying my family, delicious food, and feeling thankful. If Christmas music should happen to bother me, I can choose not to listen and the world will not fall apart. It doesn’t make me a bad person, or a grinch. I think this year I’ll leave perfection to the Hallmark movies and enjoy watching impeccably dressed actors in a beautiful Christmas setting making crafts, preparing for the Christmas festival, and eating food from their spotless decorated kitchens.

    I’ve finally realized that there really are no rules about the holidays. We put pressure on ourselves. I think I’ll just take each day as in comes and enjoy the holidays exactly the way I choose. This Thanksgiving, I made chicken cutlets instead of a turkey and everyone gobbled them up. I waited, but the Thanksgiving police didn’t come to arrest me. So…Christmas here I come. I”m not crafty and do not particularly enjoy decorating. I do the basics; tree, wreath, and centerpiece. The only cookie I bake is chocolate chip, and when I bake, the kitchen, and myself is covered in flour and certainly not Hallmark ready.

    My Christmas joy will be spending time with the people I love just as I normally do. Santa will come to my house to visit my grandson. We will all gather together, talk, laugh, eat, and play games, and appreciate each other the way we always do. I’m just going to have realistic expectations and kick perfection to the curb because, well, I’m not, and that’s ok.

  • Let’s talk coffee…☕️

    My love affair with coffee began when I was in elementary school. Never mind a hot chocolate with marshmallows, or a Slurpee from 7- Eleven…growing up Italian, my desired treat was a splash of coffee in a glass with a lot of milk and a pinch of sugar. I loved it! Pair it with a fancy Stella Dora cookie and my life felt complete. Coffee always showed up in good times and in bad. When my mom and dad “put the coffee on,” it meant company was coming over and “cake and coffee” would be enjoyed with laughter, fun, and lots of love. The percolating Farberware on a Sunday morning, filled the kitchen with the comforting aroma of coffee, a safe feeling, because I knew my mom and dad were in the kitchen sipping and talking. Coffee also showed up in hard times, during tough family discussions, or the devastating news that someone was sick or had died. The magical words, “I’ll put the coffee on” made any horrible situation bearable.

    As an adult, coffee symbolizes hope of a new day, and a new beginning. No matter how difficult life can get, you can always count on the sun coming up, and a cup of coffee to warm your hands and heart. I find comfort and joy in sharing a pot of coffee with family and friends. It amazes me how a such a simple tradition can have such a huge impact on my life. Before I go to bed, I put mugs on the counter, in preparation for the next day. I find comfort in knowing that the sun will come up, and my hands will wrap around a hot cup of coffee to start the next day. My love affair continues on.

    speakgently.com

    Good for mind, body, and spirit

  • Caring with a cookie

    by Christine Boyd

    Have you ever bitten into a fresh-baked soft, chewy chocolate chip cookie and felt like all is right in the world just for that moment?  That bite brings me back to my childhood, or more specifically, reminds me of middle school, where the cafeteria sold the absolute best giant cookies ever baked.  The whole cafeteria always smelled of cookies, and it didn’t matter what kind of day I was having, because when I sank my teeth into one of those cookies, all was good.  It was that feeling that someone cared enough to bake for me.   

     I love to bake chocolate chip cookies for the people I love.  I’m kind of famous for making them.  People rave about how delicious they are, and I enjoy making them happy with something so simple. I can’t take credit for the recipe; it’s on the back of the Nestle Toll House chocolate chip package. It has become my signature dessert that I bring to dinners with friends, work functions, or simply bake for people to enjoy. I like letting my friends and family know that I cared enough to bake them a cookie.  

    I got to thinking about these cookies the other day as I was out running errands.  I stopped at a red light and turned my head to the left to spot a homeless person asking for help.  I felt a heavy feeling in my heart, and I took that second to make eye contact.  He was a young kid, maybe in his twenties, in dirty clothes, and skinny down to the bone.  He looked sad and unwell.  I felt helpless.  The only thing I had in the car was a bottle of water which I handed to him and gave him a smile.  I felt powerless in that moment, and I actually became angry that this person is not getting the help he needs. He is someone’s son, maybe a brother, or someone’s cousin, or friend.  This shouldn’t happen in a country with resources, education, and help. Even though I don’t know the situation, or the story behind how this person became homeless, I do understand that people have to ask for help when they need it.  I wanted him to call someone in his family, or ask someone at a shelter, or a soup kitchen for help.   

    I remember growing up in Yonkers, New York.  On occasion, while riding around with my parents, we would see someone homeless and begging for money.  My mother and father would always express concern and compassion for the person. They would tell me that this could happen to anyone.  

    “We’re all just a paycheck away from this situation,” my mother would say.  She knew that no one is immune to problems, and she was teaching me not to judge people, but to show compassion for them. I felt that compassion at the traffic light that day.  

    I realize that I have no control over the homeless situation, but that I could do something small to help.  I decided to pack lunches and keep them in a cooler in my car.  When I come across a homeless person, give them a bag lunch;  a juice box, a crustable, a napkin, a card with a kind message, and of course, my homemade chocolate chip cookie.  I figure that if I can bite into a cookie, and remember that someone cared, then this might remind that person that they are special.  Maybe a memory will nudge that person to reach out for help.  It’s definitely worth a try.  That day at the stop light, I decided to do what I can to help, even if it’s just a brown paper bag filled with some love.       

  • Focus from my heart

    By Christine Boyd

    Christine Pancotto Boyd Avatar

    Well, it has officially arrived. This magical time each summer, when I start to think about my focus for the upcoming school year. Academics are always a priority, as well as connecting and bonding with my fifth graders.    However, there has to be more. When my children were in school, the one thing I always hoped for was that they would be treated with respect and kindness. Therefore, I treat my students the same way I would want my children treated. I do my best to achieve this because I feel passionate about it, and mostly because children deserve nothing less. Still, I ponder.  What will be my focus this year? 

    Let me first get a mental picture of my classroom. When I close my eyes to picture it, I see desks and chairs, books, Chromebooks, backpacks, and lunchboxes. The walls are yellow and sprinkled with brightly colored posters. There are bins full of pencils, markers, crayons, and colored pencils. Then, I open my eyes and realize that I pictured the physical classroom, and that’s not what I want to see. 

    I close my eyes again, look beyond the physical, and picture what counts: the students in action. I immediately smile because I see students engaged in their work, quietly whispering to each other to collaborate and work together.  I see a calm, peaceful, safe environment where students feel comfortable.  A room where students feel safe to make mistakes, learn, ask questions, and try even when it’s hard. I see the occasional spark in a child’s eye and catch the proud smile of someone satisfied with their progress. I open my eyes.  Yes, that’s my classroom. And yet, the question lingers in my mind.  What will be my focus this year?

    Then it hits me. I’m visualizing the classroom and my students in action. All that is good.  However, I’m not seeing every student beyond the work, the assessments, beyond the reading, writing, beyond the bins of crayons, notebooks, pencils, markers, and projects. So, what will be my focus this year?  My focus comes from my heart, and not my head. I want every student to feel seen and heard.  I want to pay close attention to the small moments: eye contact, smiles, personal stories and experiences, and sometimes tears and heartache. Even though my day will be hectic, full of decisions, lesson plans, meetings, phone calls, and emails, I want to be present in the moment for my students and appreciate them as individuals. I want to truly see them, each one of them, because that is what they deserve, and honestly, that is what truly matters. 

    Speak Gently

    Good for mind, body, and spirit

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