By Maude Harrison-Hudson, M. Div.
The Gift of Time
July 2025
The Gift of Time
July 2025
The Gift of Time
July 2025
By Maude Harrison-Hudson, M. Div.
By Maude Harrison-Hudson, M. Div.
The Gift of Time
Each year, as my birth month arrives, I take a sacred pause, not to simply count candles or calendar pages, but to reflect on the meaning behind the years. Time has gifted me more than age. It has offered perspective. A steadier rhythm. A deeper appreciation for simplicity and the wisdom to let go of what once weighed me down.
There was a time in my life when I couldn’t imagine reaching this age with such clarity and peace. I carried wounds that distorted my relationship with myself, my body, and my spirit. Alcohol and food were once my companions in pain. But by grace and surrender, and with the help of spiritual tools and a loving community, I found a new way to live. Not just survive, but truly live.
Now, I wake up each morning with a profound sense of gratitude, not just for another day, but for the length and quality of the life I’ve been given. I know too many who didn’t get this far. I carry their memory in my bones, and I honor them by fully inhabiting my own life. Longevity is a blessing I don’t take lightly. I have outlived grief, heartbreak, and my self-destructive patterns. I have been gifted the time to grow into myself.
My days are no longer marked by striving or hiding. They’re grounded in mindful choices and gentle practices that nourish me from the inside out. I eat to live, rather than escape. I move my body not to punish it, but to honor the miracle that it still is. I begin my mornings with quiet reflection and end them with gratitude. I savor laughter, connection, and even silence.
Soulful living for me means being fully awake to life, welcoming the present moment with open hands and an open heart. It means not apologizing for the lines on my face or the silver in my hair. It means claiming elderhood not as an ending, but as a becoming.
I’ve learned that health is not just about the result or body weight. It’s about harmony. It’s about how well we live. How deeply we forgive. How intentionally we care for our minds, spirits, and relationships. It’s about knowing when to say yes and when to say no. When to push through, and when to sit still.
So in this season of birth, I celebrate the woman I’ve become. I celebrate healing, not just from the emotional scars that contributed to over-indulging in alcohol and food, but from the beliefs that told me I wasn’t enough. I celebrate every lesson that came wrapped in sorrow and every joy that surprised me along the way. I celebrate the life that still invites me to grow, and I thank God for every breath that brought me here.
To those who are aging with me, whether in years or wisdom, I invite you to slow down and reflect. What do you want your days to feel like? What are you willing to release so that something deeper can take root?
May you continue to age not just gracefully, but soulfully. May we live with intention, rest in our truths, and delight in the gifts still unfolding.
Happy birth month to me, and to anyone else who is marking another year of becoming.
A Summer Blessing (poem)
By Maude Harrison-Hudson
Let the sun kiss your forehead
and the breeze remind you—
you are not behind.
You are blooming
in your own time,
your own rhythm.
Let July hold you gently
like the elder you’ve become—
not broken,
but full of stories
and wise enough
to sit still
to hear them.
“Remember-The body keeps score, and when we don’t listen, it finds its way to speak.”
The Gift of Time
Each year, as my birth month arrives, I take a sacred pause, not to simply count candles or calendar pages, but to reflect on the meaning behind the years. Time has gifted me more than age. It has offered perspective. A steadier rhythm. A deeper appreciation for simplicity and the wisdom to let go of what once weighed me down.
There was a time in my life when I couldn’t imagine reaching this age with such clarity and peace. I carried wounds that distorted my relationship with myself, my body, and my spirit. Alcohol and food were once my companions in pain. But by grace and surrender, and with the help of spiritual tools and a loving community, I found a new way to live. Not just survive, but truly live.
Now, I wake up each morning with a profound sense of gratitude, not just for another day, but for the length and quality of the life I’ve been given. I know too many who didn’t get this far. I carry their memory in my bones, and I honor them by fully inhabiting my own life. Longevity is a blessing I don’t take lightly. I have outlived grief, heartbreak, and my self-destructive patterns. I have been gifted the time to grow into myself.
My days are no longer marked by striving or hiding. They’re grounded in mindful choices and gentle practices that nourish me from the inside out. I eat to live, rather than escape. I move my body not to punish it, but to honor the miracle that it still is. I begin my mornings with quiet reflection and end them with gratitude. I savor laughter, connection, and even silence.
Soulful living for me means being fully awake to life, welcoming the present moment with open hands and an open heart. It means not apologizing for the lines on my face or the silver in my hair. It means claiming elderhood not as an ending, but as a becoming.
I’ve learned that health is not just about the result or body weight. It’s about harmony. It’s about how well we live. How deeply we forgive. How intentionally we care for our minds, spirits, and relationships. It’s about knowing when to say yes and when to say no. When to push through, and when to sit still.
So in this season of birth, I celebrate the woman I’ve become. I celebrate healing, not just from the emotional scars that contributed to over-indulging in alcohol and food, but from the beliefs that told me I wasn’t enough. I celebrate every lesson that came wrapped in sorrow and every joy that surprised me along the way. I celebrate the life that still invites me to grow, and I thank God for every breath that brought me here.
To those who are aging with me, whether in years or wisdom, I invite you to slow down and reflect. What do you want your days to feel like? What are you willing to release so that something deeper can take root?
May you continue to age not just gracefully, but soulfully. May we live with intention, rest in our truths, and delight in the gifts still unfolding.
Happy birth month to me, and to anyone else who is marking another year of becoming.
A Summer Blessing (poem)
By Maude Harrison-Hudson
Let the sun kiss your forehead
and the breeze remind you—
you are not behind.
You are blooming
in your own time,
your own rhythm.
Let July hold you gently
like the elder you’ve become—
not broken,
but full of stories
and wise enough
to sit still
to hear them.
“Remember-The body keeps score, and when we don’t listen, it finds its way to speak.”
The Gift of Time
Each year, as my birth month arrives, I take a sacred pause, not to simply count candles or calendar pages, but to reflect on the meaning behind the years. Time has gifted me more than age. It has offered perspective. A steadier rhythm. A deeper appreciation for simplicity and the wisdom to let go of what once weighed me down.
There was a time in my life when I couldn’t imagine reaching this age with such clarity and peace. I carried wounds that distorted my relationship with myself, my body, and my spirit. Alcohol and food were once my companions in pain. But by grace and surrender, and with the help of spiritual tools and a loving community, I found a new way to live. Not just survive, but truly live.
Now, I wake up each morning with a profound sense of gratitude, not just for another day, but for the length and quality of the life I’ve been given. I know too many who didn’t get this far. I carry their memory in my bones, and I honor them by fully inhabiting my own life. Longevity is a blessing I don’t take lightly. I have outlived grief, heartbreak, and my self-destructive patterns. I have been gifted the time to grow into myself.
My days are no longer marked by striving or hiding. They’re grounded in mindful choices and gentle practices that nourish me from the inside out. I eat to live, rather than escape. I move my body not to punish it, but to honor the miracle that it still is. I begin my mornings with quiet reflection and end them with gratitude. I savor laughter, connection, and even silence.
Soulful living for me means being fully awake to life, welcoming the present moment with open hands and an open heart. It means not apologizing for the lines on my face or the silver in my hair. It means claiming elderhood not as an ending, but as a becoming.
I’ve learned that health is not just about the result or body weight. It’s about harmony. It’s about how well we live. How deeply we forgive. How intentionally we care for our minds, spirits, and relationships. It’s about knowing when to say yes and when to say no. When to push through, and when to sit still.
So in this season of birth, I celebrate the woman I’ve become. I celebrate healing, not just from the emotional scars that contributed to over-indulging in alcohol and food, but from the beliefs that told me I wasn’t enough. I celebrate every lesson that came wrapped in sorrow and every joy that surprised me along the way. I celebrate the life that still invites me to grow, and I thank God for every breath that brought me here.
To those who are aging with me, whether in years or wisdom, I invite you to slow down and reflect. What do you want your days to feel like? What are you willing to release so that something deeper can take root?
May you continue to age not just gracefully, but soulfully. May we live with intention, rest in our truths, and delight in the gifts still unfolding.
Happy birth month to me, and to anyone else who is marking another year of becoming.
A Summer Blessing (poem)
By Maude Harrison-Hudson
Let the sun kiss your forehead
and the breeze remind you—
you are not behind.
You are blooming
in your own time,
your own rhythm.
Let July hold you gently
like the elder you’ve become—
not broken,
but full of stories
and wise enough
to sit still
to hear them.
“Remember-The body keeps score, and when we don’t listen, it finds its way to speak.”