Association Of Catholic Bloggers

You’ve discovered what it truly means to be “young at heart.” The wrinkles around your mouth and the pouchy jowls have no effect on you. You see the varicose veins in your legs and feet as a sign of victory—having carried children and lifted the loads of life. You are able to make fun of your bat wings and still wear sleeveless shirts in the summer. That’s what it means to grow old gracefully; it is a sign of maturity of spirit. Something we attain while we nurture others and as we, ourselves, learn and grow from life’s experiences. Yeah, not so much… read mroe here

I know my purpose here on earth is to love and serve God so that I can spend eternity with Him in Heaven… But at my age, even having some of the answers to life’s bigger questions doesn’t mean there still aren’t a few things I wonder about… For instance, I was recently watching a rerun of I Love Lucy and found myself saying out loud—to no one in particular: I don’t remember Ethel being so young and pretty! In fact, she’s beautiful! How did I ever miss that? Or there was the time I was answering questions for a survey and wondered why my age group was the last choice. I thought everyone was living longer. Was I mistaken? Shouldn’t there be an age group after mine? I felt it was important to bring that to the attention of the gal conducting the survey: Have you not updated your survey recently? You know people are living much longer now and there is no way I should be in the last age group!   And yet on that same survey, my income was in the first, lowest

Before my feet touched the floor on January 1 st , 2012, I offered a simple prayer: Please Lord, before the year is over, find me where you want me to be . Up to that point, I had been suffering from a decades-long chronic condition and although imagined health in my future, that morning I offered every cell in my body to the Lord. I just wanted to serve Him and His kingdom. If He wanted me to be healthy, so be it. If He had other plans, so be it. From that point on, all hell broke loose. The first Friday in January, I was on-air when I had an “episode” and was forced to hang up quite abruptly and was immediately taken to the emergency room by my husband. I’ve got to admit, there is nothing quite as humbling as having to hang up during an interview on a national radio show because the room is spinning and the floor seems to be at a 45 degree angle and you are crawling for help. I suffered more physical problems over the next few months than I had in the previous years

I don’t watch The View . I tried a few times, many moons ago; but found that even with the presence of conservative Elisabeth Hasslebeck, I couldn’t stomach the show. I’m also a huge fan of Ann Romney.  Huge. But even her guest spot on The View couldn’t entice me to tune in. Appearing the same week as the presidential debates wherein Candy Crowley made it know, once and for all, that the media bias was real and palpable—as if anyone still needed that confirmation—by derailing Romney with an intentional, unacceptable interruption meant to save Obama with a preposterous spin on Benghazi, I just wasn’t up to one second of Whoopi Goldberg. I’m no psychic but even I could have foretold what was going to happen. And I believe Ann Romney knew as well; and that is why I continue to admire this woman of courage and conviction. As I write this little opinion piece, I desperately want to avoid using the phrase “war on women.” However, having read about Goldberg’s incred

Recently God brought into my life a woman who I now call “friend.” I spent some time with her recently where we enjoyed a cup of tea and chatting. As I left I was buoyed by our visit. It got me to thinking how perfectly she fit into my life and reflect on the question: What sort of friends does a woman “need” in her life? I know lots of women: the mothers of all the friends of my sons; women with whom I’ve worked and those with whom I’ve worshipped. There are women neighbors and there are women relatives. I’ve been blessed by meeting women at speaking engagements who have touched my heart. But friends? I have but a few. I remember once being told that at the end of your life, if you can count on one hand your true friends, you will have been very lucky. I guess that was the secular way of saying you have been very blessed. At 54 years old, I see that I have been very blessed. If we’ve got one hand to work off of, I believe these are the five friends each woman needs:

Wrapped Up Companion Journal Wrapped Up A woman asked me how to start a study for her friends in her parish. After that a young college girl inquired about starting a bible study in her sorority. That was followed by a mother wanting to begin one, in her home, with her friends. It got me thinking...How many women would like to start a study but feel it might be more than they could handle? The good news is, starting a woman’s study is easier than you think!  Here are a few guidelines; and, I would be more than willing to answer any questions as well. I can be contacted at Cheryl@BezalelBooks.com or by calling 248-917-3865. Getting the group together: If you already have a group of interested women, your best bet is to look at your own schedule and offer a couple of options for getting together. I would suggest an hour and a half to two hours, once a week. So, for example if Tuesdays from 9:00 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. or Wednesdays from 6:30-8:00 p.m. work best for you, send ou

My name is Cheryl. And I am a weakling. That’s the kind of group I want to be in: the kind of group where we each take the stand and own up to who we are—who we really are. Not the avatars we put out in the world through our blogs and our tweets; but who we are at the core. After all, that’s where we will all ultimately connect, where we will all see one another as Christ sees us: as humanity steeped in the dignity of our creation but as a weak humanity in need of strength found in him who has offered us salvation. I love being weak. It means I’m “needy” which seems, to many people I am sure, to be an unpleasant state of being. And I’ve been trampled on more than a few times in my weakened state. I don’t always fight back when society would say that I should. I’ve been hurt and I’ve been wounded. For years I tried to fight being weak. A bit ironic, right? I wanted to be able to pick myself up by my bootstraps. I wanted to be able to say with confidence and pride that I

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

“From the beginning therefore he [man] is called to work. Work is one of the characteristics that distinguish man from the rest of creatures, whose activity for sustaining their lives cannot be called work. Only man is capable of work, and only man works, at the same time by work occupying his existence on earth. Thus work bears a particular mark of man and of humanity, the mark of a person operating within a community of persons. And this mark decides its interior characteristics; in a sense it constitutes its very nature.” Blessed John Paul wrote these words in his encyclical Laborem Exercens in 1981. I’ve referred to this encyclical many times in my own writings and in attempting to get at the very nature of who I am as a Catholic woman, wife, mother, author, and teacher. I have found in his words a timeless truth—no surprise there!—and a certain sense of peace as well. Whether I have worked outside of the home out of necessity or out of a desire, balancing work with family al