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Cheryl Mendoza

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

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NAS Lemoore

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 imageshe 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.  

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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 imageand 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.

 

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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.

 

 

 

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