Founder Letter: Staying tender in tender places

What shifts when you choose tenderness over rushing?

Dear Rosies,

I'm writing this in the dawn light from my kitchen. I have exactly ninety-seven minutes before the day, but first - this ritual—first, this letter to you.

I woke up thinking about something that happened yesterday. I was rushing through my morning routine, and my body stopped me. Actually stopped me. A little voice said: Christine, if you can't slow down enough to tend your own tender places with presence, how can you write to women about staying soft? So I started over. Breathing, anointing, thanking.

Last week in response to my letter on Softness as Strength, Em wrote: "With this much suffering, intimate care feels selfish. Like I should be handling 'more important' things."

I felt this so deeply because I do this too. When the world speeds up, the first thing we often abandon is gentleness with ourselves. We rush through routines, skip evening rituals, treat our bodies like machines.

But here's what I remembered this morning: the tender places don't stop being tender just because life gets hard.  Your body doesn't say, "Oh, there is other stress, so I'll stop needing gentle care."

The Science Hidden in Your Morning Routine

When you slow down to care for intimate places with presence, you're rewiring your nervous system for resilience. That gentle touch activates the part that says "you're safe enough to stay open." That mindful attention builds your capacity to stay present, which helps you stay emotionally available during difficult conversations.

But you don't need studies to know this. Your body tells you every time you choose presence over rushing.

A Morning Anchor

Even on days when I have seventeen things to do before 9 AM, I give myself this: Conscious breaths. Hands on heart first. Giving thanks for the day. Lighting a candle. Care for the body in a tender, reverent way.

A friend called a few days ago, exhausted from difficult meetings. "I feel like I'm becoming someone I don't recognize," she said. "Sharper, more reactive." I asked about her morning routine. She laughed. "What routine? I barely have time to brush my teeth." We talked about how caring for our selves creates a ripple effect. When we start the day choosing gentleness with ourselves, we approach everything differently.

She texted this morning: "Day three of the slow morning ritual. I swear my whole family feels calmer." This is how the soft revolution spreads - one tender moment at a time.

This Week's Practice

Choose one moment each day when you could rush, and choose presence instead. Maybe it's your morning care routine. Maybe it's three breaths before responding to stress.

Notice what happens when you choose tenderness over efficiency. Notice how it changes the moments that follow. I have to go now - my first calls begin shortly and I want to be present and gracious. But I'm carrying this morning's tenderness with me into the beautiful chaos of the day.

Thank you for choosing softness, for tending your tender places with reverence.

With love and morning quiet still in my bones,
Christine