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July 28, 2016

Simple Truth

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“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:34 ESV

If I’m being honest, this simple truth of Scripture has been my lifeline lately. It’s the place I’m turning to as fear and anxiety threaten to steal my joy and plunder my peace. With escalating racial tensions, a political future that’s becoming more and more bleak, and increasing violence that’s hitting closer to home every day, it has been a real fight not to just completely give myself over to despair. We live in a world where there’s SO much to fear. From sickness to shootings to hateful rhetoric all around, it’s becoming too much to bear.

Shamefully, Matthew 6 is a place I haven’t visited in a while. I’ve fallen prey to the arrogance that sometimes exists in my walk that says “you’ve got that one down… move on.” But I know that’s a lie.

One of my favorite things about God’s Word is that it’s living and breathing—which means that it constantly has something new for me. I love that even the most familiar passages continually offer something fresh for the taking, if only I’ll lay hold of the treasure it affords.

My latest journey into the land of Matthew 6:34 has revealed the “why” behind my failure to really take this truth to heart. And I’m realizing that it’s the command that lies within. “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow…” Simple enough—yet at times, painstakingly hard. Especially as the world around me crescendos into chaos.

My problem with this passage is one of control. Which, ultimately, is an issue of trust. It’s easy to “not be anxious” about the things that fall within my jurisdiction. But to not fret about the things which I can do nothing about? That’s a whole other story.

Surrendering control can be really tough. But in this case, the control isn’t mine to give. The people I love, the world in which I live, and my hopes for the future are, in the greatest sense, outside of my control. They rest in the hands of the Almighty—which I regularly have to remind myself is the very best place they could be.

So when I fail to keep this command, when my heart gives way to fear and I’m swept up in another current of dread and uneasiness (and choose to stay there), I am essentially saying to God, “I don’t trust You.” I’m admitting to the belief that I can’t count on the Creator of the Universe and the Lover of my Soul to work all things for good. I’m speculating that the way I would have done things is superior to the all-knowing, all-powerful Alpha and Omega. I’m putting my way above His way, neglecting to acknowledge what I know in my heart to be true.

I find no joy in admitting that I’ve been having this worry/control/trust struggle on the daily. But I’m thankful that God’s mercies are new every morning. And I’m grateful that His Word will not pass away. Because I desperately need its reminder that today has enough trouble of its own, so there’s no need to fret over what may or may not happen tomorrow.

July 25, 2016

Our Weekend in Pictures

Most weekends at the Hudson household are a good mix of productivity and rest. There’s a lot of catching up that goes on—on laundry, our latest reads, and most importantly, with each other. Somehow we were able to strike the perfect balance this weekend. And it was quite enjoyable. Here are a few shots we snapped along the way.

A long week at work made for a sleepy Saturday morning | And then my sweet husband surprised me with this!

Ty decided to try his hand at homemade pickles | The results were absolutely mouth-watering!

Speaking of homemade, ice cream was also on the agenda | The perfect antidote to the 90-degree heat!

Caprese

| Thunderstorms spoiled our plans for an evening stroll through the city, but dinner at Eataly made up for it nicely |

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And last, but certainly not least—Sunday morning resulted in a trip to Milwaukee where our antique-hunting adventure proved wildly unsuccessful | But hey, at least they always have good coffee!

That about sums it up! Here’s to these pictures helping me fight the Monday blues!

July 7, 2016

So Easy It’s Hard

I’m not really one for summer. There—I said it. I usually do pretty good up until the July 4th holiday, but beyond that give me cooler temps and a change of scenery.

I admit to loving the longer days and the lingering light when I get home from work. I do enjoy the lazy Sundays by the lake and the road trips home for barefoot barbecues around Mom and Dad’s pool. I fancy the sunshine and the dresses with sandals and the steady diet of ice cream and farmer’s market fruit. But I can only take so much. And I think I’ve finally figured out why.

The feeling of summer is so easy it’s hard. It moves to the rhythm of crickets and birds, dancing to songs that are simple and free. The slower schedules and relaxed routines make for staying up late, discarding the diet (and at times, it seems, the budget), and an overall departure from the cadence of our non-summer life. Fun? Yes. Exhausting? YES.

I’ve never been someone who likes to be ruled by a schedule. In fact, I tend to feel suffocated by consecutive days that are void of spontaneity and offer no break from the grinding routine. But I do need structure. And for me, that’s what summer lacks.

I’ll take a few weeks of a slowed pace and as much sun as the Midwest can muster. But I prefer we stop before the dog days of August commence and the late summer delirium sets in. After all, you know what they say about too much of a good thing…

That’s just me, though. And I’m well aware that the majority does not share my opinion. This native Ohioan happens to be a fall girl at heart—one who is a sucker for sweater weather, trips to the orchard, and all things pumpkin. And, of course, a little more structure.

June 24, 2016

How Sweet It Is

They were sitting behind me on that warm Thursday night. The window seat had been reserved by the first of them to arrive. He greeted her with a smile and she gave him a nervous laugh. A first date? I wondered. A meeting of friends on the brink of realizing it may be more than that? I shifted in my seat and pretended to continue reading.

It didn’t take long to gather that there was romance in the air. But as their little love story blossomed before my very ears, I was immediately swept away into my own.

While I absolutely loved (loved!) the early stages of my relationship with Ty, what I love even more is that I’ve increasingly loved every stage since. There is something to be said for the blank slate that is laid before you as a brand new couple; like empty pages filling a book, your story is still waiting to be told.

But as the lines are written and the narrative begins to unfold, the beauty of a life shared slowly reveals itself—in all its wild and wonderful glory.

Dreaming about marriage was tons of fun—but doing life as husband and wife is undoubtedly sweeter. And while thinking about the “wheres” and “whens” and “how in the worlds” used to delight and excite us—answering those same questions hand-in-hand, side-by-side is better than I ever imagined.

This month Ty and I celebrate four years of marriage. And although I truly treasure and sometimes miss the earliest days of our relationship, I’m thankful for the joy it is to know him better and love him deeper with each and every passing year.

As I got up out of my chair to leave that night, I shot a smile at the pair still sitting behind me, so completely lost in one another. The smile was partly because it was such a precious scene—but mostly because I was reminded once again how sweet it is to be loved by Ty.

March 4, 2016

Forgotten

It was several Saturdays ago now that I found myself phoneless while out running a few errands. A small panic fell over me as I reached toward the passenger seat only to find the space next to my wallet empty. Did I really leave home without my phone? Could I be away for a few hours without it? Or should I run back to the house quick and grab it?

Several thoughts raced through my mind at this point, some more rational than others:

What if one of those worst-case scenarios happen and I can’t get ahold of anyone for help? What if I miss a call, or miss out on part of our regularly-occurring family group texts? What if, what if, what if?

Anyone with me on this?

Well, here’s what I’ve come to realize since this surprisingly fruitful moment of forgetfulness: the incredible irony of this “what if I miss…” mindset is that I actually miss out on more when I’m constantly tending to the rings and beeps that have become an all too familiar part of my days, hours, and minutes. So concerned am I about not “missing anything” that I’m actually disregarding everything else that’s right before me—the face across the table, the man beside me in bed, or those sacred moments where quiet invades and I can be still.

The person across from me at dinner will eventually get up and leave, my husband will eventually roll over and fall asleep, and those quiet moments will all too soon become not-so-quiet and the noise of life will prevail. And yet, all those texts and phone calls and perfectly-curated instagram posts will be there hours, days, and even weeks from now. They can wait. But life refuses to.

Those hours I spent a few Saturdays ago sans iPhone were truly such a gift. I found that I was more relaxed, more free to focus my thoughts and attention where I wanted, and more able to be present—even if only with myself. As it turned out, nothing of catastrophic proportion happened, the texts and phone calls were waiting when I got home, and I even bought a jacket without first texting Ty a picture from the Anthropologie dressing room.

The lie I find myself falling for over and over is that disconnected = irresponsible. But what I’m finding to be more and more true is that permission to disconnect can actually be the most responsible gift we give ourselves. Being constantly connected to email and conditioned to automatically respond to every text and tweet might be a sign of twenty-first century living, but it’s not how I want to live my life.

In fact, you might find me “forgetting” my phone a little more often. Chances are there will be enough “connected” people around me in case one of those worst-case-scenarios actually does happen.

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