Frank Arthur Bishop

Frank Arthur Bishop
July 9, 1927 - November 4, 2011

My Grandpa's funeral is today. It's weird being here, in the Dominican, getting ready to teach 6 kids the Spanish alphabet when my family is preparing for a service to say goodbye to a father, grandfather and husband. He had many months of sickness and we knew that a day like this would come but it's still sad when it does. Before we left for the Dominican we went to visit him and we got to say goodbye to him properly and pray with him one last time and laugh and joke around with him. He was always joking around. We knew that it would probably be the last time we saw him on this earth and on Friday that was confirmed.


My grandpa and grandma Bishop were a HUGE part of the reason I believe what I believe today. They were the ones who started going to church although they weren't raised in the church. They then took my parents (who grew up in the church) who then took us (who have grown up in the church) and now we are taking our daughter. What an impact on a family tree because of their decision to pursue God. I am truly blessed beyond measure because of their choices in life and the way they chose to live.

A few things I will always remember about my grandpa:

A song my grandpa frequently sang to each and every one of his grandchildren goes like this:
(sung in complete love)

          "Chris Edwards" (insert any grandchild's name) is no good,
          is no good,
          is no good.
          "Chris Edwards" is no good.
          Chop him up for fire wood.

Although a little morbid it was a fantastically fun song and we loved it.

Another thing that will always be remembered was his love of the garden. He took amazing pride in his roses and other flowers. When we would go and visit him he would point out the different flowers and tell us which ones were doing well that year and which ones the backyard critters were eating or ruining. He knew every type of bird on the planet and would teach us how the different birds constructed their nests and how the different birds would interact with the others. He even built a bird house that was plexiglass on one side so he could see how the birds lived. He would laugh and laugh at the birds and their different personalities. When my grandma and him had to move out of their house into the retirement home (and hospital respectively) he told the family to go into the house and take whatever they think they could use. I found a pair of binoculars in his closet and took them with a few other items. The binoculars will always be a reminder of him and his bird watching. He took time to remind us that God watched even the sparrows (one of his favorites), a gentle reminder that God was always watching us and loved us tremendously.

My grandpa had the work ethic of an ox on steroids. Recently, he needed to change the windows in his whole house. He looked around and got some prices and then hired someone to change the giant bay window in the front of his house solely because he couldn't lift it into place himself. He then measured, bought and fully installed the new windows in the rest of his house himself. That way he knew it would be done right and for a fraction of the cost. He fixed his own lawnmower, built shelves, re-shingled his own roof (when he was over 65) and any other thing he needed fixed around the house. The man knew how to work. He knew how to keep what little he had in good working condition and he knew how to save. He knew the value of money. He was the direct opposite of lazy.

Coupled very tightly with his desire and will to do things himself was his strength. I kid you not, and although not proven, before my grandpa took really sick (last year) my grandpa could fairly easily destroy ANYONE in the family in a fight. His nickname growing up was "One Punch". Supposedly, the story goes, when he was younger he got in only one fight and with one punch he knocked the other kid clear off his feet, across the dirt road and unconscious. I'm not sure how much of it is true or how much of it is exaggerated but what a great story! To tell you the truth it's a believable story too! It was fun to try and "hurt" grandpa by squeezing his hand too hard when you greeted him (after a huge hug of course). He would look at you with a small grin on his face and say something to the effect of "are you ready?" (which of course you always thought you were until...) he would then squeeze your hand not in a way that hurt but somehow he would move your knuckles in a way that sent shock waves through your whole arm. No matter how old he got he always won that game. When we were younger he used to swing us on his leg (while singing the firewood song) or when there were more of us we used to cling to both of his legs as he walked around the house. He told stories of taking ALL the neighbourhood kids on "helicopter rides" where he would pick them up and swing them around his head until they were too dizzy to stand up. The kids would line up again and again and squeal with joy when it was their turn. Even with all that strength the thing that will stick with me is the fact that he NEVER used it to hurt anyone or to demand power over anyone, ever, period. He used his strength to do productive things and things that brought joy to others. With his great strength came extremely patience and kindness.            

He loved his family without limitations. He told us all the time that he was praying for us everyday and although lots of people say that I really believed him. My grandma and him were always ready with some short bread cookies (the best in the world) and bread with molasses and butter (depending on which way you ate is "grandma's way" or "grandpa's way" the butter would go on before or after the molasses). He never said he didn't have time for us. He was never upset even if we showed up completely unannounced. He really was the head of his household not in a dominating way but in a loving, example setting way. He was a man who was not ashamed of his faith and made it clear to all those around him whom he served and followed. He made it easy to be around him and to feel loved. He shared new insights into the faith we shared whenever he had them. He brought wisdom to ordinary everyday things such as gardening and devotions.

His funeral starts in one hour from now and although I can't physically be there I am there in thought. I haven't cried in a long, long time but writing this has brought me to tears.

There are very few people that can be called truly great people but my life seems to full of them. Frank Bishop, my awesome grandfather, was easily one of them.

I will miss him dearly.