Cheryl Mendoza

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.

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.

“We remembered to live”.  This is one of my favorite quotes from a woman named Margaret Gehrke.  If you have never seen the Ken Burns documentary on our National Parks, which I think should be required watching for all Americans, you may not know the name.  I had never heard of her or her husband before watching that program, but because of the documentary her words travel through time to speak to me. They both took time off each year to get in their car and travel our country and visit the National Parks.  Along the way they took photos and she wrote about what they saw.  To her, this was living.  It makes me think?  Am I really living?

So I planted some flowers yesterday, and I counted it as a victory.  I am not what you would call a green thumb, but I love gardens, so I am trying to develop one.   I have tried in the past to grow things, and while some have grown, most have not.  So I am here trying to unpeel the onion that is my brain.  You see, my lack of green thumb has less to do with my fifth digit, and more to do with my thick skull.  There are obstacles there, and they are the ones in my head that tell me lies.  I hate working in my front yard, because we have the worst lawn on the block.  I know that if I go out there, my neighbors will judge me.  That statement may or may not be true, but when it comes down to it, the feelings of inadequacy are enough to affect how I act.  I am no better in my backyard, and because of that, it has become a place of stress instead of refuge.  Plus the gophers brought up so much crap, add to that a prolonged drought and bingo the grass is no longer there.  Needless to say, I feel inadequate in my backyard also.  What does this have to do with “living” you ask?   Well, I have come to the conclusion that how my garden looks, is in direct relationship to how I am feeling on the inside.  It is a tangible sign of the question, have I remembered to live?

When I was young, I lived next door to a couple that eventually became Grandparents to me and our family.  It was in that yard that I started to love gardens.  I don’t remember doing much myself, but I was there much of the time as Grandma pulled and planted.  The front yard was especially pretty.  Her grass was short, soft and surrounded a small redwood tree.  At least that is how I remember it to be, but it has been a while.  They eventually built a front porch, and some of the best times I can remember were sitting out there with family.  That yard was a lesson on who I wanted to be, and the environment I wanted to create in my home.

I recently picked up a children’s book, “The Secret Garden”, and reread that after so many years.   As I grew older, I knew the book was special to me, even if I could not remember why?  When I read it again, it was me that I saw in those pages.  A young girl with a curious mind, wanting to explore and learn, but feeling bogged down by her circumstances.  In the book, she was able to push through through and become who she wanted.  Maybe that is what I saw when I was young, and was drawn to this character.  It may have taken me a while, but now that is a goal I am pushing toward also.  To be who I believe God created me to be.   I see glimpses of that girl in my memories, and I am trying to dig her out from under the weeds that have entangled her.

Why do the weeding?  To some extent, that girl is the person I want to be.  The problem is, she got trampled in the cycles of life.  Don’t get me wrong, I am a pretty capable woman and have been able to raise my children and be a good wife.  The problem is, there is fear when I try to take it outside the safe zone of my family.  This blog is an example.  My mind screams of the silliness of this path.  Why would anyone want to read this?

Well it all goes back to the garden.  Eden that is.  My favorite part is right before, to put it literally, all hell breaks loose.  It is in Genesis when, it speaks of God walking in in the garden when the cool evening breezes were blowing.  It may be insignificant to some, but it speaks to how God wants to be with us.  So close, we can hear His footsteps.  When I know He is close, it gives me strength to try things that I am not good at, or that may be hard for me.  Why in the world would I do these things?  It is to face whatever fears, hurts or insecurities that may be hindering my actions.  To truly be who I was created to be.  To remember to live!

Well my husband bought me a present this weekend, and it was pretty sweet since I knew nothing about it.  I handle the finances, so it is really hard for him to buy something for me without me knowing.  He has really been trying to get me to write for a long time now, it is just that I don’t think he knew how to encourage me.  I don’t even think I knew how to tell him to encourage me?  This weekend he received a package, and while it caught my attention for a minute, I got distracted doing something else and forgot all about it.  A short time later, I noticed that my Apple user ID was used on a new device, a MacBook.  Since my husband also has a MacBook and was sitting right next to me, I wondered why he was signing me in on his machine?  He is my IT guy, so I pretty much let him take the reins with our computers anyway, so I just ignored it.   A little while later as we were both sitting at our dining table, I remembered the box.  There it sat, opened, with nothing in it?  It was then that I took a better look at my husband and noticed that he did not only have one MacBook, but had one sitting on top of the other.  He was hiding it from me!     Now the scary thing was we had been sitting there for a while before I even noticed!  Very sad as I am usually much more observant than that.  He told me that it was for me!  He knew I hated writing in the room where our desktop computer is, and my Ipad does not always have the capabilities I need.  I was so excited, but I also felt like the gauntlet had been thrown down.  This was not so I could surf the internet, shop or send out tweets (which I am still trying to get used to) this was so I could get to the business of writing.  Or at least trying to get my voice out there.   It is nice when someone has faith in you.  This one act has encouraged me more this weekend, than all of the words that he has tried over the many years.     Why?  I have no idea?  Maybe it is the right time, or my frame of mind is in the right place.  Regardless of the why, I am excited by the gift, and I am amazed how comfortable I am using the new machine.  It was late when I started this post, and it is typically something that I do not do.  I typically write in the morning, and like perfect surroundings.  That is not what I have tonight.  I have distractions around me and it is past my bedtime, but here I am writing this, compelled by the gratefulness of a little faith.  Thank you Mike!

So it has been a long and hard couple of weeks. I have had back/neck problems for most of my life, but recently the pain has been barely manageable. I have spent more time sleeping and sitting with a heating pad, than I can remember. Since that has been sapping the very life out of me, I have not been writing. It has caused me a tremendous amount of anxiety, since I am trying to get focused and diligent about this whole blog thing. Discouragement was my first name. So as my back has gotten better, my outlook has improved dramatically. It still took me days to sit down and start writing again. It seems like I am back to the whole hiding thing, but here I am back at it, trying to get back in the “work” of it.  
 So I was feeling a little low in church on Sunday morning, just feeling like I am letting God down by resisting this path I am on.  I perked up a bit when I learned that we would hear from a guest speaker.   I love our pastor, but the gentleman who would speak that morning has this great Scottish accent and his style is not what we typically hear.  So it always makes for a fun sermon. He used a story out of the Bible that I know pretty well, as it is one that we teach to kids a lot.  Instead of stopping at the normal sequence of events, he wove three events together to see a bigger picture. So to be fair, and not make this the world’s longest blog post, I may split this up a bit. So, when he started to speak, I was thinking, “I love this story, I got this one down”.  There was one fact that I did not know, that for me opened up a whole other side to the story. That is what I really like about the Bible, it is that at different times, it has a different depth of meaning. Today he told the story of Jesus and His special friends, the disciples, and a time they went “across to the other side of the lake”. Jesus has been teaching all day, and he asks the disciples to get in the boat, and to cross the lake. During their “cruise”, Jesus falls contentedly asleep, all the while a storm kicks up threatening their well being. The men are scared and awaken Jesus to save them from drowning.  Jesus response?  To calm the waves and chide them for their lack of faith. I love this story, because it talks about faith and trusting Jesus. The story makes it clear, when Jesus tells you that you are going to the other side of the lake, even if a storm arises, you can trust that He is going to take you to the other side of the lake. For me, it is just what I needed to hear. 

 After being down for two weeks and feeling that my productivity level was zero, which it was, I needed some reassurance. Now rather than, “can I write anything someone wants to read”, my thought pattern was “can I just physically sit and write for a couple hours a day?” The answer I got was yes! If this is the boat I am supposed to be in, I can trust that we will get to the other side. Now, the journey may be a bit bumpy, rough, nausea inducing, and scary, but it is the means to be where I am supposed to be. I still have a twinge of the “yikes”, but I am calmed by who is in the boat with me. It was wonderful to hear that story again at just the right moment.  To encourage, and give me hope. 

He then proceeded to kick it up a notch. How? By giving me some information that I did not know. While I thought I knew this story well, there was a very particular piece of information I didn’t have.  Where was the other side of the lake?  And who lived on the other side?  Now this is kind of like a Batman moment.  Same bat time, same bat channel, you know how it works. 

So yesterday, I let myself get a little lost while going to work.  I live in a small town in Central California that is like a suburb.  Around it though are miles of fields, farms and orchards.  I used to drive the highway over to the next town, but have started taking a more rural route, because it is calming.  Less cars, more green and so many things to look at.  There is still the occasional speed demon roaring down the road, maybe even a tractor that slows things down, but all in all a much more pleasurable drive.  As I drove, I thought about the night before, and about the things that strengthen us.  The little messages that give us hope.

I was exhausted when I got home from work.  It was such a busy day, and my brain was fried.  I relaxed for a while, had a conversation with a friendly face and watched a little television to try and relax.  When it was time for bed though, I could not sleep.  Lack of sleep is not good for anyone, but for me it is a death knell.  It makes me very cranky, and when I am cranky, I tend to get very angry, very fast.  That though, is for a different blog entry.  My husband was already snoring away, after his own bout of not sleeping well the night before, and I just laid there, feeling fully awake.  Thinking, not sleeping.  My mind seemed to still be awake, but I can’t really remember what I was thinking.  Just too many thoughts at one time.   I do remember having at least a moment of frustration about this blog.  The who, why and what would come of it?  It was at that point that I was now fully awake.  So I got out of bed and I will admit, I took a little swig of cough syrup.  I knew that it was not the optimum way for me to go to sleep, but I was desperate.  This girl needs sleep more than food, and I was fearful of what the next day would bring if I did not get the rest I needed.

I sat up for a while waiting for the drugs to kick in, and I opened up a new book I am reading called, Start by John Acuff.  I am horrible with my finances, so years ago I started to listen and use some of Dave Ramsey’s material on getting your finances in order.  Anyway, he recommended this book to people on the radio and his website, so when I saw one at the thrift store, I bought it.  Yes, I am one of those.  I have a wonderful relationship with thrift stores and garage sales, but again, that is an entry for another day.  So as I sat down to read it, I was immediately hooked.  Why?  He started out writing in a blog!  It was a stepping stone for him, a way to move forward.  Now, what do I think will happen?  Who knows?  To see someone though using a blog as a means to an end, well that gave me hope.  Hope that something may actually happen with what I am doing. That God may really have some kind of purpose for me doing this, not just to drive me crazy.   A hope that some of my more daring dreams, could be realized through this first step.  What may those dreams be you ask?  Well, I don’t know you well enough.  Truth be told, I have only recently  shared with my husband the path I would like this to lead down.  We are back to that whole hiding in the closet thing again.  And at this point, I think I have only stuck a toe out.   It is a toe though, that I would say is finally pointing in the right direction.

At this point, if I were truly feeling daring and truthful,  I would take a stylish picture of my toe and post it.  That will never happen though,  no matter how far I come out of the closet, as I have some pretty ugly feet.

So I have been thinking about the nature of encouragement and discouragement. As I said in my opening salvo I wanted to be a writer. At least I think I did? It was just so long ago, that I have a hard time trying to remember why I did not pursue writing as some type of career. I have just recently started to weed through memories to figure out the motivation behind my actions. There was one memory that came to me, as there was only one time I can actually remember telling someone that I wanted to be a writer. I don’t remember exactly when it was, but I was in high school, maybe even a senior by that time. I happened to be having a conversation with our next door neighbor’s daughter. She was older than I was, a woman, married with two children at that time. I am sure she was just making simple conversation, as we were sitting on the front porch, but I am beginning to think that the conversation had more of an impact than either of us could have imagined. Why did I tell her? I am not really sure? Maybe it was as simple as no one had ever asked me before.
It was there on the porch, that she told me that her husband was a writer working for the newspaper. I really do not remember all of the details of the conversation, I just remember the negative feelings it produced. What little I do remember was about all of the college I would have to attend, and how difficult it was to find a job in the business. I also remember feeling embarrassed. Maybe because I had told her something that I had not shared with anyone else, and her response was so negative. Her opinion was obviously colored by her husbands experience, and that perspective then colored her response to me.
Did that discourage me? Probably to some extent. Remember though, I danced in the closet, I wasn’t exactly an open book. Maybe if I had reached out to someone closer to me, I would have gotten a more positive response. I did not though, and so there was nothing to counter the negative advice. That brings me to the million dollar question. To what extent do our words tear down? How much does it take? So on the flip side of that, do our words have the ability to build up? How much encouragement does it take? I was wondering what I would be writing about in this blog, and for the time, I guess my question has been answered. I am laying down on the couch, and inviting you to my therapy sessions. We now have a privileged relationship. So you know what that means? What happens in the blog stays in the blog. It’s kind of like Vegas, except you will definitely wake up in your own bed.  

  I would have loved to post a pic of just me, but I don’t seem to have many pictures of just myself.  I am not much of a narcissist.  I am the one on the left.  My son and husband are also pictured with me.  This is our trolley ride outside Suisun, at the Western Railway Museum in Northern California.