Cheryl Mendoza

How do I respond?

How do I respond? That is becoming my favorite question nowadays. It is a question that I love, because I think it takes a lot of pressure off of me. I do not tend to respond quickly, I try and ask the question first, and then wait for an answer. Hopefully there is time to get that answer, but thankfully, when time is not on my side God seems to be bringing answers even before the questions are asked.

I got a text last night from a friend, and she was heart sick. You see, she saw a pastor on YouTube, speaking to his congregation about the horrific nightclub shooting in Orlando. He had no compassion for the dead or wounded, and he expressed his happiness over their deaths. She texted me because I am her friend and she felt she could trust me. I am glad about that. I am also glad that in the past couple of years I have tried to read, listen, and learn more about Jesus. In doing that, I felt able to speak to her last night, and I hope that she was comforted.

How do I respond? I will always try to ask the question, or see if I have already gotten the answer. Wait what if I don’t know? How do I respond? I guess I am just going to make a default setting, command L. Respond in Love!

June 15, 2016 2

Level of the least discriminating audience

Lowest common denominator. Again, this math concept came back to me as I have been listening to the election coverage and heard it being used. I know what you are thinking, politics and math? It was actually Stephen Hawking who used it, and while he was talking about a particular presidential candidate, I actually think about this all the time. It is pretty funny because it is a mathematics term, and I hated math. As I am getting older though, I am finding that math is making its way into my everyday life more often. The best is when I use algebra as an object lesson for my sons. My mother, the math teacher, would be proud. My sons though, are pretty much over it.

math1 — *Just had to put a math graphic in here for fun.*

Back to my point. I find that in a lot of things, people tend to go to the lowest common denominator. Myself included. I always wonder why? Whether it is comedy. Where most jokes nowadays are more hurtful than funny, but everyone laughs. Or it could be politics, where we jump on a bandwagon of the candidate who is talking the loudest, singling out an enemy and promising what they are going to do for you. Or even the church where we pretend to do instead of really doing what we believe, because it is just easier that way. Again why? Maybe we are working, trying to make ends meet? More concerned with getting the kids picked up from daycare than who will be the next councilman, senator or president? Worrying about our weight, health, jobs, spouses and children. Which are all good things to worry about. Too tired at the end of day trying to make life better, that we don’t have the energy to really ask, what makes a better life? Too distracted to ask ourselves, do I really want to live a “lowest common denominator” kind of life?

I know that is a life I really don’t want. Unfortunately, I believe that is a life I have lived too much of already. So I am now trying day by day not to accept that “uncommon” life as my own. It is harder than it looks. I get up, I write, I read my bible, exercise (ok so not every day yet), and I try to be encouraging. Every day I fight the desires to wallow in self-pity, doubt, fear, pride and anger. (Well that was an honest sentence for you) Each day is a new opportunity, and maybe more importantly a different opportunity. So I take strength in the words of Paul, the man who wrote most of the new testament not the Beatle. “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” He sounds as confused as I feel many times, but I love his honesty. I take great comfort in the fact that if Paul didn’t have it all down on his own, than I am not doing so bad. My Mom was right when she said, “it’s not what you know, but who you know”, and for that uncommon life, I am counting on Him being my Who.

If you want to check out where Paul said that: Romans 7:15 NIV

Please leave a comment if the post encouraged, challenged or made you think.

June 9, 2016 2

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