My neighbor, Rich Devlin, asked me to write this week’s column
about an angel … his wife, Vallie Bishop. She would have
celebrated her 58th birthday this Saturday.
My neighbor, Rich Devlin, asked me to write this week’s column about an angel … his wife, Vallie Bishop. She would have celebrated her 58th birthday this Saturday.
On March 27, Vallie’s friends and family celebrated her life at a memorial service in Morgan Hill. For almost an entire week before, it had rained non-stop. But that Sunday morning, the clouds parted and light filled the world. Some people suggested that maybe Vallie had somehow played a part in bringing sunshine back to the South Valley.
At the memorial service as well as at the gathering at the Morgan Hill History House afterwards, I listened to stories people told about Vallie. Many were humorous, showing Vallie’s mischievous fun-loving side. Others were touching, demonstrating how generous a woman she was with her time and talent. Somehow that Sunday, the tales her friends told helped everyone connect a little to the lives of people who fondly remembered her.
Vallie’s life made a genuine impression on the South Valley region. When she wasn’t running her car dealership in Gilroy, she spent her hours involved with organizations that made life better for the folks of our region. For Rebekah Children’s Services, she volunteered on the community advisory board and organized the Festival of Trees holiday fundraiser. She also stayed active with the San Benito County Free Library by raising funds to buy books.
I knew Vallie as a gentle and caring woman. As my neighbor five doors down the street, Vallie always got involved in the summer block barbecues, the Halloween street party and winter season holiday get-togethers. One Christmas as my “Secret Santa,” Vallie presented me with a book on Victorian history because I’d once expressed a keen interest in that subject.
On the day of Vallie’s memorial, as people sat on the porch of the History House enjoying the sunshine, I told one of Vallie’s friends about a regret. A few years back, Vallie had invited me to her San Benito County ranch near Paicines to help her pick bunches of lavender growing there. She had described the rich fragrance of the flowers as “the perfume of heaven.” She sold the lavender bouquets to raise money to fund barbecues for the Rebekah Children Services’ kids and their families. Every year, I put off helping with the harvest. Somehow, life always got too busy … or so I told myself. We humans are masters at making excuses. That’s why we often fail to enjoy the simple but important stuff that lead to lasting memories and tender stories.
Thinking about Vallie Bishop prompts a recollection of one of the most profound experiences I’ve ever had. On a business trip a few years back, I was flying home from Milwaukee to San Jose and had a two-hour layover at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. While wandering around waiting for my flight to start boarding, I suddenly felt filled with a deep fact about the universe. It was something I had heard many times in church sermons, but my mind had never fully grasped the magnitude of the truth until that moment. As I stood in the busy terminal and watched people moving around me on their own personal journeys, I realized that on some mysterious universal level, every life is linked. “We are all one,” I sensed as the O’Hare whirl of humankind reeled around me. “We all share the same story.”
For the next couple of hours, I roamed through O’Hare amid passengers and airplane crew members and airport workers. As I gazed at them engaging in their life stories for that place and moment in time, I felt myself lost in a blissful state as I pondered the overwhelming understanding that all humanity dwells in a spiritual interconnectedness. We are all soul travelers bound on a grand tour we trek together. Heaven isn’t a destination. Heaven is a journey. And when we allow ourselves to glimpse the beauty of our fellow travelers in that journey, we will find ourselves in the realm of heaven – even someplace as mundane as a busy airport terminal.
In the evening of the day of Vallie’s memorial service, a few of her friends and family members met at the Las Palmas Mexican restaurant in Morgan Hill for margaritas. We all raised our glasses and Rich congratulated his wife on proceeding to the next stage of her soul’s journey. “To Vallie … To an angel who just got her wings,” he said.
At Vallie’s ranch the lavender flowers are starting to bloom in the warming spring. I have a hunch that in some celestial realm, there’s a new-born angel who now is taking special delight in breathing in their soft aroma and savoring “the perfume of heaven.”
