Category: Random Thoughts

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Circle of Life

Time to take Sam home and be with big sister, Avery, and brother, Mack
Catherine,post-Sam, looking beautiful
Catherine, pre-Sam, and looking beautiful

On Wednesday, March 27, our 9th grandchild, 5th grandson, Samuel Carter Bishop, came into the world. I say “our” because he is the 9th grandchild for Steve and me. If it weren’t for Steve, I wouldn’t have baby Sam in my life.

Steve and I had a blended family. Steve has 3 children and I have 2 sons from what we liked to call our “starter marriages”. The father of Sam is Justin, Steve’s youngest. Justin is 1 year and 2 days older than my oldest son, Joshua. They were almost 11 and 12 when we got married in 1987. Justin was very excited to have 2 younger brothers while Josh was not happy about this shift in ‘sibling’ order or being part of a blended family. It was a rocky start for our new family but after years of respecting feelings, not forcing unrealistic expectations, and just letting them know Steve and I were in it for the long haul and their conflicts would not change our commitment, the family really did blend.

Fast forward 30 plus years and Steve’s kids are my kids and my kids love and miss Steve as if he were their natural father. We all know we are here for each other when needed even though we are all very different and our lives may take us far from each other.

Now we have baby Sam. We are so happy to have this new life in our family. He doesn’t replace Steve or Gary, my daughter-in-law’s father who died last year, but he does complete the circle of life. We are born, we live, we die, another life is born, they live, they die and so it goes.

All for now with all my love

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Entered a New Country

Tomorrow it will be 18 months since Steve died. Today’s reading in “Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief” by Martha Whitmore Hickman included these lines about grief, “I have entered a new country. I will be patient with myself. I will look for companions for the way.” When I read that, I thought maybe that is why I am here. I figuratively “entered a new country” the moment Steve passed. The Peace Corps (PC) opportunity allowed me to literally enter a new country to deal with my grief.

It is not exactly dealing with my grief. It is giving me the time and space to make a new life without Steve. Granted, I will leave this new life when my 2 years of service are over. For some reason, it is important to me to know that I can serve others, that I can make friends, that I can make a life without Steve and without my existing support of family, friends, and church at home. Of course, this is not true because I have the support of all my family, friends, and church. However, they are not here physically.

I have the support of my Namily, including PC and new friends in my community. I am building these relationships on my own. I was not introduced to them by Steve, they don’t know my family, I did not meet them at my friend’s house or at my church.

“I have entered a new country. I will be patient with myself. I will look for companions for the way.”

All for now with all my love

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I’m more like Mom than I thought

My Mom turned 91 this year and is very excited that I am serving in the Peace Corps. Like all my family, she is supportive because she knows it is my dream. Even if she doesn’t quite understand it, she wants what I want, as long as it is not immoral or harmful. The unconditional love and support from her and all my family made it both easier and harder to leave in August. Since my departure, I’ve been thinking a lot about my Mom and her huge influence on my life.

I used to think my Mom and I were complete opposites. Growing up, I was a tomboy, I would throw on some clothes, pull my hair into a ponytail or back with a headband, and I was ready to go. I had no patience or desire to curl my hair, learn to wear makeup, or walk in high heels. My Mom ‘put on her face’ every morning, she religiously has her hair done every week, her nails are manicured, she takes very good care of herself. She dragged me to Avon or MaryKay makeover parties, so I would at least learn how to do these things when I ‘grew up’. My routine is not much different as an adult, but I now wear some lipstick, I try to keep my skin soft with lotion, I even highlight my hair occasionally. I take good care of myself like my Mom taught me.

My Mom is an avid reader and she enjoys good movies. I have those same passions and we enjoy discussing our latest reads or movies we’ve seen.  My Mom is competitive, just play a simple card game with her to learn that about her. My friend Sherry once told me that I have a fierce competitive streak when we were playing some silly game like Pictionary at a girls’ night. I couldn’t believe it, but she was right, and I know just where it comes from. I realize that I spend my free time much in the same way as my Mom.

My Mom is a flexible cook. One of our favorite family meals was fried fish we pulled out of the Gulf on Dauphin Island before we had even unloaded the car. Mom had her electric fry pan, crushed the potato chips we had on hand as breading, and we ate those fish before they even knew they were out of the water. Because of my Mom, I can make do with what’s on hand. I recently made biscuits with yogurt instead of milk and they tasted yummy!

My Mom is an adventurer. She made every military transfer, and there were many, an adventure. Home was not a single place or town, it was with our family. If our Dad was not with us, then ‘coming home’ meant coming to where we were. I now see that my adventurous spirit comes largely from my Mom because she made it okay and fun.

Okay, I am still a tomboy and my Mom is still the belle of the ball. However, when it comes to my core values and what brings me lasting joy, I am more like my Mom than I once thought.

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My Mom at 91 and her four children

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A Damara tradition

I learned this weekend that a Damara tradition is to slaughter a cow for a wedding. The meat from the pelvic area is served only to the older women that had or have good marriages. They are very careful while cutting the bones and cooking the meat from those bones to not break any of the bones. It is bad luck if a bone breaks in this process and is a sign the new wife will not bear children. The bones are then cleaned and hung at the house who hosted the wedding, usually the bride but not always. Sometimes they also dye the bones a ucher color. The bones are hung by themselves for a year and then they can be moved where earlier wedding bones are hung or to the newlyweds’ home.

Another tradition is to hang a white flag on the roof for a wedding which stays until the weather dissolves it. They hang a Black flag for a death but only until the funeral is complete.

All for now, with all my love

Pictures of pelvic bones from a September 1 wedding and another of several from earlier weddings. The video is a wind/rainstorm with the white flag blowing. These were all taken yesterday where I am staying until Wednesday. I will send more about this visit in another post.

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God winks/Steve winks

During our Braii (BBQ), at my host family’s house, last Saturday evening, they started playing several Vince Gill songs and then other country songs by older artists such as Chet Atkins. I really couldn’t believe these would be in their playlist. If you knew Steve, you knew how much he liked country music and particularly these artists. I shared this with my family at home and my niece called it a God wink letting me know Steve is with me in spirit. I love that, and I got more this week.

Our 31st wedding anniversary would have been last Wednesday, September 19 so Steve was on my mind even more than usual. My host family mom and I have been watching the sunset, so I went to the porch to join her. As I looked out for the sun, I noticed a small yellow rose bud on the plant in her yard. It is a miracle the plant can survive, let alone bloom, in this dry soil and afternoon heat. Yellow roses are my favorite and Steve gave them to me almost every anniversary. I call that another wink from Steve/God, they are both with me.

All for now, with all my love

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GranEllen – reflections (week 4)

I realized this week that Peace Corps (PC) is my ‘college experience’. I never left home for college, I never experienced dorm life. I commuted from home my first year of college, then I left school to marry, by the time I went back I was single with 2 young boys. So, PC is my ‘college experience’, moving away from my family, sharing a dorm room and a large communal bath even though it was only for a couple weeks since I am now living with my host family.

Granted, it is not the same experience at 61 as it would have been at 18 but there are similarities. That 18-year-old is still in me and we approach relationships in much the same manner. I am friendly and pay attention, but I also hold back and don’t get too close too fast. I am more like the tortoise than the hare in most aspects of my life. In Pre-service Training (PST), like those first few weeks in college I imagine, things move a bit faster since you are truly separated from your family, friends, and everything ‘normal’ in your life. You find a few people that you can laugh with, commiserate with, and make sense of your new reality. Time will tell if these become my lifelong PC friends, but I think they will always remain a key element of my PC service.

The other thing I realized is that I have never truly lived alone, I have never set up a room just for me or a household just for me. I married Steve when my boys were still young and after I finished college. Of course, I set up households and rooms in the household but there were always other people, other loved ones, to consider.

I am looking forward to moving into my site as my first home alone. However, when I say it like that, it makes me sad because I would much rather be sharing my home with Steve.

 

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My Buddy

The photo is from a couple years ago when Steve and I visited our son, Sal, in Germany. We took a Sound of Music tour in Salzburg, Austria. This is the place where the kids rode their bikes, dressed in clothes sewn from curtains, learning Do-Re-Me. We did our own rendition.

May through July has been a whirlwind of activity as I prepare for my Peace Corps service which starts on August 13, 2018. Following Peace Corps’ advice, I have spent lots of time with family and friends and also getting my affairs in order to be away for 2 years. However, I am still very much grieving. We honored the first year anniversary of my husband, Steve’s, death on July 19th. Throughout these weeks/months, I have made time and allowed myself to cry and continue grieving for Steve. When I was out of town, I tried to walk every day by myself. This was my reflection time. As excited as I am to teach in Namibia, I still miss Steve so much. My heart is raw and tears are just under the surface. I laugh, I do things, I enjoy being with friends and family but there is a piece missing and it is Steve. It is so hard to imagine life without him but here I am. I think this will be a common theme for a long time, maybe forever – how much I miss Steve.

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Musings about journaling/blogging

I started this blog in May but obviously it has not become part of my normal routine since it is now July 27 and this is just my third post. I realize now that I am a pen and paper journalist. I was trying to make myself an online journalist but nothing was getting written to the blog. Through the years, I have journaled consistently, filling many notebooks with my thoughts. I go through cycles where I journal daily or weekly for months or years and then I stop. The reasons for stopping vary. One time I started an exercise class during the time when I was journaling. Another time, my sleep habit changed so I no longer journaled before going to sleep at night. Whatever the reason for stopping, I eventually go back to putting thoughts down on paper. Sometimes, I will then type my thoughts and edit them as needed. I made a decision that this is what I need to do for my blog. I will keep a written journal and then type/edit it into this blog space.

The photo shows a nice space for journaling – Holy Trinity Episcopal Church (Decatur, GA) Chapel garden.