Association Of Catholic Bloggers

I’ve always had some sort of exercise routine—even if it wasn’t much of a “routine,” per se. Eating well and staying fit has been part of my life more out of necessity than desire. It rises from chronic illness rather than vanity. The catalyst for me “working out” has been my calling to live out my vocation as wife and mother and never how I look in a bathing suit. In fact, I use the term “working out” rather loosely since the same chronic illness that requires me to monitor my bodily well-being hinders my ability to really drill down and push myself to any physical limits. It’s not that I haven’t tried. I have—but there are always severe consequences. So I’ve had to find that balance between “working out” and not killing myself in the process. Enter yoga. Or the idea of yoga. The appeal of the gentle movements and stretching of yoga really drew me in as I searched for the perfect exercise routine that would tend to my body but wouldn’t break me, and so I began researc

Besides the money thing, Ann Romney and I have a lot in common. Well, maybe not a lot, but we have enough in common that I consider her a woman who I admire. And I don’t admire a lot of women—at least not a lot of ones currently living. Is that bad? I’m not sure. I have my reasons for loving women from Scripture: we see how things “turned out.” We know they finished the race set before them. In some cases we know their struggles and the way they faced those struggles. We learn so much from them. That’s why I stand at attention when a woman of my own generation makes me notice qualities that resonate with me, qualities that I admire. Now does this mean that Ann Romney is perfect? I’m guessing not. But since no one is, I’m confident proclaiming that perfection doesn’t have to be a gold standard. The gold standard, for me, is how a woman engages in her life’s circumstances in a way that reflects commitment and acceptance. The gold standard, for me, is to see a woman make a cho

For years the only person who knew I suffered from a chronic illness was my husband. Over time, and out of necessity, a few more people were allowed into my world of health issues—and yet no one really knew the severity of what I went through, except my husband. What I’ve come to realize is that I prefer my world be divided into two clear parts: the private, reclusive Cheryl and the author, writer, teacher, social Cheryl. Mostly, though, at the heart of who I am is the private, reclusive Cheryl. My quiet, alone time is important to me—even more so since I began spiritual direction a few years ago and sought to understand the movements of God in my life and live accordingly. I need to be with God in a very real way and have learned how to respond to the ache for Him through my prayer life and “down time.” As the years progressed and I understood that my physical suffering had value, I began sharing bits and pieces of what I was going through: severe joint problems, nights of di