cherylmendoza

This season’s pain.

It was early when I arrived. The doors weren’t even open yet, but I waited. I knew she would come soon. It is not many times that I beat the woman to her shop. She is usually there with her hair in a bun wrapped up in a net, smelling of yeast and sugar. I can barely stand the smell, but it is the food she has for me that I am waiting for. The crumbly hard shapes that fill my stomach and nourish me. It is not what I am used to, nor is it the way my story started. I once had a home, a place where I belonged. I was born there, I lived and was happy. The change happened so abruptly, as if it was a dream. One day I was beloved in a happy family, and the next I was a wandering soul enduring the heat and unknown. I am growing accustomed to my new life. It is not without peace, but it is just hard. Trying to find food, water, shelter and protection from the world. I used to have that, before that day, and I hope to find that again. Each new day is a victory, it means that I have survived to see another sunrise. It means that the memories of the goodness of life, have not been overshadowed by the pain. With each new sunrise comes the newest opportunity to be strong, to love and to show others that they can survive this life too.

She is here, and I am fed. Together we start a new day.

My husband has become obsessed with his camera, and had taken some pictures the other day in our small town. Someone wanted to know the story behind the pictures, so I jokingly started writing about the cat and how she had lost her home. By the time I was done though, I knew I was not writing about the cat any more. I was thinking about the headlines of the day, and the young woman who has been subjected to more than anyone should in a lifetime. I pray that her good memories, and her future are not overshadowed by this seasons pain. That she would find healing, and strength in her most important label, child of God.

June 8, 2016 4

Tapping out a thankful tune!

So am I ready to tap or what? This is something that I think I have always wanted to do, but hadn’t. So here in the blogospere where I can be honest and live fully as myself, I am ready. There are different DIY tap boards on the internet, so I had a pretty good idea of what I would need to make one. I then watched a couple of videos from people who made one, and thought putting it together looked pretty easy. To make it even less expensive, they suggested going to a home improvement store and seeing if there was flooring that you could buy cheap. I googled the foam flooring needed and I was happy to see that it was inexpensive, but when I got thinking about the wood flooring an idea popped into my head. I remembered that my sister had done some new flooring in her home not too long ago, so I texted and asked if she had some leftover pieces? She did! We were going to visit her, so I told her I would talk with her when I got there. How great is that?

It was a boost that I needed, because our finances have been on my mind a lot lately. As of the end of the month, I am officially unemployed. So now that the time has come, I am starting to wonder about our needs and how we are going to adjust our lifestyle when we are back to one income. I have worked for the same company for the last 7 years, and so leaving was a hard decision, but it was a decision I felt compelled to do. It was a new direction that God was prompting me to follow and I felt that the time had finally come. So for that reason, provision has been on my mind. What was encouraging to me was God using this tap dance “storyline” to not only teach me about myself, but to provide everything needed without having to spend a bunch of money. Again, it is a simple thing, but it was a reminder to me of who God is and how He works.

I gave a month’s notice, so I was doing pretty good until the month was almost done. It was then that I started to stress. I was wondering how I could make some extra cash, even before I was in the situation where it was needed. I was getting ahead of God. When I realized that, I tried to relax. I thought back to the many times before when He had come through. God has a bunch of different names in the bible, but my favorite is Jehovah Jireh. It means the Lord provides. I had to remember that I was not the source of our families provision, and neither was the job I had. That job was a tool that God used to provide for us. I felt better, over my panic attack, and feeling a little more secure.

So back to my tap board. I went to my sister’s house and she gave me more than enough flooring to make the tap board. I came home excited and thankful. It was then that God made me laugh out loud. The next day I walked into the garage and found foam flooring. How it got into our garage, I will never know? Both my husband and I were stumped? It might have been one of our children, or maybe even left by the previous owner. My husband then decided that some plywood he had could be used for my board. It was just the right size, and didn’t even have to be cut. The only item I had to purchase was some gorilla glue. So for under $5.00, I have my tap board. With that board, I will get some exercise, learn something new, live joyfully and continue to work on unpeeling the onion that is my life. Except now, I will be doing it to a different beat.

June 6, 2016 5

No longer boys…

So today is a big day in our household. My youngest son, Gene, is about to graduate from high school. I thought I was ok with everything? I mean I was not feeling emotional or getting sappy, going about my day in a pretty normal way, until I had to go to the store. I had gotten a text stating that my photo order was ready, which it wasn’t, then I basically had a panic attack about having enough time to bake a cake. This was all ridiculous since it was only 11:00 in the morning and dinner was not until 5:30!

It was then I realized that I was probably feeling something. What though was the question? Gene is my youngest, so him graduating is something of a watershed moment for me. I mean, he really hasn’t paid attention to me for years, so there is really is not much difference in our relationship. All of my boys are pretty independent, but Gene was that way from a very early age. I will now be a mother to four men, instead of four boys. That makes me happy. I do not miss those boys, because they have grown into men that I like. They are not perfect, but they have qualities that make me thankful. They are loyal, love their family, love God and are more than willing to help a friend in need. Even to their own detriment. While we have made mistakes in raising them, they love us like we were the most perfect of parents. So today as we celebrate this graduation day I wanted to say to all of my men; Scott, Bob, Matt and Geno, I love you. You make me the happiest mom in the history of time!

June 2, 2016 1

Memorial Day 2016

So today is Memorial Day 2016. We spent most of the day traveling home after visiting family, so it is late in the day when I finally get to think about the meaning of the day. Sad enough to say, it seems that I have only just started looking into the day’s history in the last few years. While there are theories on who began the tradition that became the holiday, I choose to take some time and reflect on the why of the day. I do that not to deny the history of anyone, but because it is in the why where we find our common ground.

Today is the day to remember those who died while serving in the US military. I happen to live in a navy town. It is strange as this navy town is in the middle of California’s Central Valley, and not an ocean in sight. So when I think of Memorial day, I think of the people I do life with. I see them when we hear of an F-18 crash on the news. I watch them come together when one of their own dies. This is what Memorial Day means to me on the most personal level.

A couple of weekends ago my husband and I went to the Orange Empire Railway Museum in Perris, California. While we were there, he was able to check out the trains, and I was able to walk around and see the people who were there for a Civil War reenactment. At one point a man asked if I would like to see some of the artifacts that he had, and I of course was interested. He put into my hand a 12 pound ball that was part of a battle in Fredericksburg, Virginia. As I stood there holding the rather large and heavy ball, the man went on and gave more information about the ball and the other items he had. I really did not hear much of what he said, as I was concentrating on what I was holding. I thought about the ball, and how heavy it was. I could imagine the speed it would have, as it hurtled through the air only to hit the ground and bounce for a time. I thought of the Civil War documentaries I had seen, and all of the carnage balls like these had created on a battlefield. I wondered if the ball had killed someone, taken off an arm or even a leg. I was not able to handle it any longer, and gave it over to my husband. We listened for just a bit longer, and then left the gentleman dressed in Confederate grey. It made me melancholy for a while, and I knew that I could never be a part of a reenactment. For me, the whole thing seemed very weird, not good or bad, just weird. We went on to take more pictures and see the other exhibits there in the museum, but it wasn’t until we got home that I realized what I had done.

Day Trippin

I took the picture that is attached. I was really trying to get a good picture of the box car and tree, but there in the side was the cannon. It was sitting there waiting for the reenactment, and I had gotten it into my picture by accident. Since the whole reenactment thing left me feeling the way it did, I really did not want the cannon in my picture. The problem was, I did not like the picture when we cropped the cannon out. So I left it and did not think of it again until maybe Thursday, when it dawned on me that Memorial day was quickly approaching. It felt appropriate. I do not particularly like what Memorial Day makes me remember, but I know that is the whole point. To remember what we lose through war, to remember the sacrifice made by many. I think war sucks, but like my cannon silently sitting in the wings, I know it sneaks into the picture even when we don’t want it. So I am thankful for those who make the ultimate sacrifice, and pray for those who are left behind.

May 31, 2016 3

To tap or not to tap….

So today is May 25^th, National Tap Dance Day. It is kind of ironic in light of a few facts. One, my blog started off talking about my dancing in the closet when I was a kid. Specifically tap dancing in the closet. Second, I had just sent a video to my husband yesterday by the Syncopated Ladies. This is a group of very talented ladies, doing a tap number to “When doves cry” by Prince. I sent the video to him and let him know that I want to do that! So today he was researching how to make me a tap board. It is just a small platform, for lack of a better term, that I can tap on. We were looking at a couple of YouTube videos and making some plans so I can start learning, when all of a sudden we learned it was National Tap Dance Day. I really do think God has an amazing sense of humor.

I am thinking that by the next celebration of this holiday, I need to be a tap dancer. I already have my tap shoes, as they are a holdover from when I lived in San Jose. I had just started taking some classes through the rec department when we had to move. I guess it is now time to dust them off and get them ready for a new challenge. The closet will no longer be my studio. It is funny, I guess this will be part of my journey. While it may seem silly or even a stupid goal when you look at the problems of the world, for me it is just another step in becoming the woman God made me to be. A woman with a tender heart, who lives honestly and tries to reflect the amazing relationship that I have with Jesus. Is tap dancing a part of that reflection? Crazy as it sounds, I totally think so!!

May 26, 2016 3

Where’s Geno?

So I went last night to youth group. I haven’t been in a while, and that is probably because I haven’t been a youth for a while. The only reason I attended last night was because my son was speaking. Funniest part of the night was when he was done, someone said they expected him to talk longer. This child is obviously my son. He did well, the kids were very cool, fairly quiet and listened. I love communication, so it was a fun moment for me to see him step out at a young age and get his feet wet. To stick his neck out there and not have the fear of the unknown drive him. OK, so maybe he is not so much like me?

I am ecstatic for him, encouraged by him and I am thankful that he has stepped out to test this ability. I love that God is prompting him, and that he is trying to listen. That is the prayer I have for all the men in my life.

He was kind of nervous about me being there, and I told him not to worry “If you screw up, I will love you just the same as if you do great”. For me, the whole night was not based on how he would do, but on what he would learn through the process. Good job Geno!!

May 20, 2016 4

Just say cheese….

So I was reading a blog this morning, it is called “ Beauty Beyond Bones”, and it is written by a recovering anorexic. She made a post about this week being “body positivity week”. She had a great perspective on this body positivity thing, so I have put a link here if you would like to take a look. https://beautybeyondbones.com/2016/05/12/body-positivity-week/

Her post got me thinking though about the pictures that we take. This is on my mind lately, because my husband is starting to be heavily involved, dare I say obsessed, with photography. He is always trying to get me to take pictures, so he can learn to use different techniques. I never remember being so weird about taking pictures, but then again, I have never been this old and there have never been so many picture taking opportunities available. I mean really, Facebook is full of them. So as I was driving, I began thinking about this woman’s solution in regards to body image, and then I thought about my own. It is funny, as I write this I am sitting at a desk with a mirror over it. So I am basically staring at my own face, thus the picture I have posted. I find this slightly ironic. I even had to take two pictures, because I caught myself in the first one trying not to smile so big. Jeez!!

So I thought about the pictures that I take. Sometimes they are funny, silly, but usually they are for a remembrance of a time, occasion or friends. Some of the pictures that I have taken recently are ones that I do not like very much. Why? It seems that I am more concerned with trying to look cute than enjoying the “why” of the picture. How do I know? It is evident in my body language, and I can just tell by how I look. These pictures show a woman who is not comfortable with how she is perceived. The funny thing is though, I pretty much am OK with how I look. I am old, well not that old, but old enough. On the edge of still being kind of cute, but sags and weight are taking a toll. I thought about that, and I felt stupid. I love looking at pictures, and I thought of the pictures that have spoken to me the most. The ones that made me really feel things, and they were of people who were not necessarily looking their best. Dorothea Lange immediately sprang to mind. Her pictures of people who were struggling through the depression in the dust bowl are some of the most important pictures of our time. These people are NOT looking cute. What you do see is pain, resilience, struggle, fear, and maybe even some hope. These photos opened people’s eyes to what the effect of unemployment was on the entire family. These photos still have the ability to touch people today. And I am worried about if I am cute?

The pictures that I like best of myself are the ones where I forget about the camera, and I concentrate on enjoying the moment. Then, my smile is genuine, if not a little large. There is a twinkle in my eye, even if you can’t totally see it through my glasses. My body language is relaxed, even if it is a bit, how do I say this? Chubby? And if my gray hair is peeking out? Then so be it. This is who I am, and I like that me. I like the me who is more concerned with celebrating a birthday than looking cute. The one who is having fun, being silly with a friend, better than the one who is trying to get her good side. The one who is willing to show her tears, even when she is not a pretty crier. So I have decided, that I am not going to worry about how I look. I am going to focus on enjoying the moments God has given me. To be fully invested in who I am with, and what is happening around me. So tonight as I go and celebrate a wedding with friends, I choose to forget about how I look, and remember to let the joyfulness of the day be my beauty.

May 14, 2016 1

Encouragement 3.0

So I am finally back to the end of my story. I know it seems long putting this into three parts, but for me, all of the parts were important. So if you are coming in at the end, I would encourage you to read Encouragement 1.0 and 2.0 before reading this one. In the bible there are four gospels, which are basically the accounts of Jesus life as told by four different authors. So you will find this story in the bible in a couple of different places. During this sermon though, the speaker was reading out the book of Mark.

So at this point in our story, Jesus and his friends have returned to their side of the lake. The last we hear of the man who was healed, was that he “started off to visit the Ten Towns.” We find out that this man did not just tell his family what Jesus had done, but he told everyone. How do we know this? Well that question gets answered later in our story. Mark goes on to relate other stories of Jesus. He traveled around, went before people and taught them, fed them and healed them. Time has passed, and Jesus again goes across the lake with His disciples, but this time they get a very different reaction. Later in Mark 6, it says they landed again in Gennesaret, they climbed out and Jesus was immediately recognized. People spread the word throughout the area that Jesus was back. When they did, they immediately brought out those who were sick and anyone who needed healing. All He touched were healed.

This part of the story was something that spoke to me in a way that has caused some minor ripple effects in my life. The people came looking for healing, and they found it because one man told his story. Jesus did not tell this man to evangelize the region, but that is what happened, because he told his story. Since he did that, it gave Jesus the opportunity to connect with people, to heal them and to show mercy. It is the perfect example for me. As I continue to try and express what is happening in my life with words, I keep trying to see where it is all leading. What is the grand scheme? The problem with that line of thinking is that it always leads me to stress and anxiety. The example of this man though, helps me to know that I have one simple job. To tell my story.

May 11, 2016 0

All for the chance….

For the chance to sit at the furthest fire.

This was the last line of a dream I was having this morning. I don’t typically wake up when I am dreaming, but I did on this one. That is the only line I remember from the dream, but I do remember how the events unfolded.

It was like a Rock Hudson, Doris Day movie. He, Rock, had just left the homestead for lack of a better description, and was headed to who knows where? It was at that point that Doris came out from an old truck, that she had stubbornly retreated too since the fight between them. She would not occupy the same home as him, so he left. Why were they fighting? I have no idea. It was like I was coming in on the last scene of the third act of a play.

As Doris walked past me into the house, stubbornly holding on to her pride. I then turned from the home and walked toward a bonfire where there were people sitting watching the interaction. It was then I was met by Gregory Peck. Who knew? He spoke to me, and while I cannot remember the exact words, I got the impression of our story. I could tell that we had a relationship, like I was a woman waiting for a man to wake up to his feelings for her. When we met, he spoke beautiful words to me. When I woke up, all I wanted to do is remember exactly what he said. What I did remember was the feeling that his words evoked. I felt love, peace and strength, I totally wanted to go back to the dream. Then came his last words to me, “For the chance to sit at the furthest fire.” The last line speaks to the length of time I had waited, the time it took to finally realize that it was us who should be sitting together at that fire. When I recounted the story to my husband, I said that at the end of my dream conversation, we kissed. When we did, it didn’t make sense. Even in the dream, I knew it was not a lover’s kiss, but I could not pin down why it seemed so weird.

The more I thought about the dream, I wondered that maybe it wasn’t me who had been waiting? Maybe it was him? Could it have been me who realized where she belonged? The flash of pride in the dream, reminded me of my own pride. Did I mention that Gregory was old….and had white hair and a beard? Was this man in my dreams really a stand in for God? Was He trying to tell me something through the dream? Was he trying to confirm the path I was taking?

I am not sure? All I know is that no matter how long it takes, I want the chance to find my place and nobody else’s, at the fire.

May 3, 2016 0

Cheryl Mendoza

How He speaks to me…..Or… can't He just call my cell when He wants to talk?

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