Herlinda Menchaca Treviño

Herlinda Menchaca Treviño, lovingly known as “Linda” to her family and friends, was called home to be with the Lord on June 28, 2025. A woman of unwavering faith, selfless service, courageous leadership, and steadfast confidence, Linda’s life left a profound impact on all who knew her.

Throughout her years at the Latin American Bible Institute (LABI), Linda distinguished herself as Student Class President, a role she held each year. Her leadership in the Latino Christian community continued well beyond her student days as she faithfully served the LABI Alumni Association, the Gulf Latin American District of the Assemblies of God, and her home congregations: Primera Iglesia (Houston), El Tabernáculo (Houston), and El Sendero de la Cruz (San Antonio).

Linda also had a meaningful career as a licensed Real Estate Broker, where she helped numerous families achieve the dream of homeownership. A champion of new ventures, she played a vital role in launching various ministries and businesses and was a trusted advisor to churches, entrepreneurs, and individuals alike.

She is survived by her devoted husband of 61 years, Robert Mario Treviño; her children Lisa Treviño Cummins and husband Wayne, Robert M. Treviño Jr., Roland Rene Treviño, and Roel Jaime Treviño and wife Janeth; her beloved grandchildren Allegra Rodriguez Treviño and husband Sterling, Rachel Cummins Aylor and husband David, Jonathan Cummins, David Cummins, Vicente Treviño, and Victoria Linda Treviño; and her great-grandson Joaquin Abrigo.

She is also survived by her siblings: Sal Menchaca and wife Mary, Ezequiel Menchaca and wife Jan, Ernest Menchaca and wife Carol, and Bobby Menchaca and wife Kathleen.

Linda is now reunited in eternal peace with her loving parents, Rev. Severiano and Velia Menchaca, and her siblings Rev. Joe and Elizabeth Salazar, Rev. Jose and Magdalena Cantu, and her brother Ismael “Bay” Menchaca and wife Sherry.

A Celebration of Life to honor Linda will be held on Wednesday, July 2 at 6:00 p.m. and a Funeral Service on Thursday, July 3 at 10:00 a.m. at Pneuma Church, 3402 Runnels St., Houston, TX 77003. Interment will follow at Earthman Resthaven Cemetery.

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why: I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was homeless and you gave me a room, I was shivering and you gave me clothes, I was sick and you stopped to visit, I was in prison and you came to me.’

Mom, you are my first love.

From the very beginning, you exemplified pure, unconditional love. Little did I know that your daily actions would become the inspiration and blueprint for my life’s work.

In 1964, when you took my dad’s hand in marriage, I bet the two of you were uncertain of what lay ahead. Two twenty-somethings, in love and ready to venture into the unknown.

After a year of marriage, you were blessed with your first child – this beautiful baby girl, Lisa Ann. Eleven months later, I arrived – baby brother.

Within that 11-month span, the Treviño household doubled. This young couple, in their mid-20s, raising two toddlers – imagine!

From a very early age, I witnessed the amazing love between you and Dad. Your personalities complimented each other. You, the extrovert, and Dad, the introvert – the yin and the yang.

When I think of your relationship, I think of how the brain works. The brain has a left and right hemisphere, each with particular functions. The left is responsible for speaking, comprehending language, and exercising logic. The right helps with spatial organization, mechanics, emotion, music, and art. Mom, those that know you and Dad know who is who. What we also know is that the two hemispheres must work together and communicate to function – each equally as important as the other.

It’s hard to talk about you, Mom, without talking about Dad. The two of you were always together. Dad didn’t go out with the guys for a night out or hang out after work with his buddies. If you went somewhere, you were together. For 60 years, Dad never left your side. Thank you, Dad, for the way you took care of her. You two took care of each other. She is your honey. She is your sweetheart. Always.

Thank you, Mom and Dad, for choosing each other for this journey. The chemistry between you two is directly responsible for any successes we have achieved. Your balance provided us access and exposure to all the things we needed to understand people, our faith, our service, grace, tolerance, and to practice acceptance.

Mom, you got things done, and I believe you were divinely gifted to do so.

• Through Administration – you organized, directed, and carried out plans to lead others in various ministries.

• Through Hospitality – you warmly welcomed and cared for others.

• Through Service – you had the task-oriented ability to meet needs and show up for others.

• And through your gift to heal – you helped people recover from sickness, pain, and suffering.

There are countless stories of you helping others. Whether it was taking people into our home who needed refuge, getting people help with medical services, buying groceries for families, or providing clothing to those who needed it, the list goes on. Each action has a rich story behind it. And those were the stories we happened to witness. I’m sure there are many other stories that no one knew about, only you. You believed that ministry did not only occur behind the pulpit. You believed that it happens with every interaction you have with people around you. This is how you lived. You would seek out opportunities to be of service to the marginalized, the bullied, the voiceless. And I believe your tireless efforts inspired the lives and careers of each and every one of your children and grandchildren. We all serve this segment of humanity as a direct reflection of your influence and example.

You were always busy with us. You took us to practices daily, games weekly, multiple kids in multiple sports. You found time to sit through all our games, and remember, there were no cell phones – imagine! But there you were, in the stands, watching and cheering the loudest! I distinctly remember “That’s my boy!” ringing from the stands. Priceless, Mom. You made sure we got to church on Sunday and all the events happening at church during the week. You made sure we filled our time with substance, and you made sure we had fun.

You and Dad also made it a point to take us on trips. We had adventures into Mexico, including Mexico City by train, Puerto Vallarta, and Guadalajara. You and Dad drove us cross-country to Disney, to Colorado, to Utah, and New Mexico, to name a few. 8-track tapes provided the soundtrack, which included The Imperials, The Archers, Andre Crouch, and Los Latinos – my siblings and I would fight over who sang lead. You filled our lives with experiences and music.

In between all this, you carved out some space to be a professional in your own right. It was rare in the 1970s for a woman to be a real estate broker, but that didn’t stop you. You excelled in whatever you decided to do.

You and Dad were also entrepreneurs. Dad always had a dream of owning his own machine shop. You were partners, working together to build. Dad, you started with one machine in your garage on Wynell, to, within a few years, having a 15,000-square-foot building with 16 to 20 machines, employing at least 30 people, right over here on Irvington. The business flourished for a number of years, and life was great, but in 1983, the oil industry took a major hit, and so did your business. Finances became a major struggle in your lives. Mom, you and Dad worked together tirelessly to resolve these problems, which included a move to San Antonio. It took about 15 years to finally finish the process and get back to some normalcy. The biggest takeaway from this is that I don’t remember any of it. And I feel I can speak for my siblings that none of us do. The most remarkable thing about this particular story is that you did not allow us to see it or feel it. It was still a great life to us, just like before. You didn’t let us feel the stress you were feeling. You protected us from all of it. I learned all of this later in life as an adult when you felt like I was old enough to understand.

Mom, you loved to stay in touch. You made sure we all got a call daily, sometimes more than once a day. You would text, email, and even send letters. If an in-person visit wasn’t available, you loved a good phone conversation.

Recently, I had an epiphany about something you would do during these phone conversations. I discovered it after realizing that I do the exact same thing while having phone conversations with Allegra. If you ask my daughter, she would agree that I love a good phone conversation with her. I’m old school. I don’t like to text. I want to hear your voice. I want to hear your inflection. I want you to hear the love behind my words. Hearing my daughter’s voice warms my heart. Mom, I think you loved to hear our voices too. It brought you joy. We would be in a conversation, and towards the end of the call, you would try to think if there was anything else you needed to tell me. We would say our “I love you’s,” and we would hang up. Like clockwork, you would call me right back to tell me one more thing. The conversation would actually begin with “Oh, one more thing,” and then you would commence to tell me said one more thing, whatever that might be. Mom, I do the exact same thing. After some introspection, I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason why I do that with my daughter is because I don’t want the feeling to end. I don’t want to stop hearing her voice. It brings me so much joy. Mom, I get it now. It all makes sense. You just wanted a few more moments of joy with us.

Mom, you are a force in each of our lives. I think I was your biggest challenge, or at best, tied with J. I would say I’m responsible for 80% of your gray hair. I wasn’t the best at school. I didn’t always get up on time and didn’t always do what I was told. But you made sure that I didn’t fail. You have always been there, pushing me through.

Looking back, in terms of my siblings, I’ve accepted some realities. I’m not the most logical, solid, calm, diligent, and organized – Roland, that was you. I wasn’t the best looking, brainy, charismatic, and passionate – that’s J. Or even the best to lead, most decisive, athletic, and resourceful – that’s Big Sis. But the one thing that I could say I was better than any of my siblings at was in making you laugh, Mom. You loved to laugh. You were a joker. Uncle Dan, Uncle Joe, you can attest to this; we know the stories.

Mom, you were the queen and I was your jester. I love to make you laugh… the kind of laugh where you couldn’t catch your breath, that would make you cry, your face hurt, and your stomach ache. The good stuff. Your laughter is music to my ears. Whether it be on a holiday, birthday, or just a general visit, we were laughing. Mom, it’s a cherished memory, and I’ll never forget.

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A Special Thanks

There are two people besides you, Dad, that I want to give a special thanks to. I think my siblings would be in agreement with me that Roland, you went above and beyond in your care and attention to Mom. You were there almost daily to talk to her, to massage her shoulders, and give kisses. You assisted Dad in filling in as much as you could with managing the household. When Mom became unable to function in that capacity, you helped Dad to navigate all of that. You made the most of the time we had left with Mom. I want you to know that I see you and that I’m so very proud of you.

Anthony, I love you. My Spanish is más o menos, but Google is my friend. Quiero que sepas que eres mi hermano. Por cómo le hablabas a mi mamá, por cómo la cuidabas, sé que la querías. Y sé que la extrañarás tanto como nosotros. Eres familia y siempre te querremos. (I want you to know that you are my brother. By how you spoke to my mom, by how you cared for her, I know you loved her. And I know you will miss her as much as we do. You are family and we will always love you.)

Lastly, Dad, the way you love Mom has set the bar. Just the way you look at her and smile is enough to see how much she means to you. The care that you provided Mom during her most difficult times earned sainthood in my eyes. Your unwavering commitment to your family and your honey provided us with a glimpse of true love manifested. I am so grateful for you.

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Mom, the morning I received the news that your spirit had left your body and that you were reunited with your loved ones, these lyrics began to play in my head:

How can I give thanks for the things you’ve done for me.

Things so underserved yet you came to prove your love to me.

The voices of a million angels cannot express my gratitude

For all that I am and ever hope to be, I owe it all to you.

Love you, Mama.