Today is Father's day. As I reflect on the importance of Fatherhood and my blessings of being the daughter of one who took it seriously, I was moved to write a tribute to my dad. Perhaps, you too, will want to write one and share it here..I would love to read yours as well.
Here goes...
Tribute to Dad\t
Dad, today is Father’s Day. As I reflect on this time in which children are to honor their dads my mind goes back a long way, a long time. Dad, I knew you for 60 years! Actually, it is almost as though you were eternal: you always existed as far as I could tell!
Dad, I consider it a privilege to have had you, Harvey Miller, to be my dad. You have won many awards in your lifetime for the accomplishments you have achieved, but none is as great as the respect your children, grandchildren and in-laws and acquaintances have for you. Do you understand this?
Dad you never made quality time for us children: you took us with you when you worked, when you did business: we were right there by your heels. We saw how you related to people, how you did business, how you farmed, how you prayed, how you worked. We saw, we helped, we worked, it was all a part of living, of survival.
Dad, do you remember that small chicken house that had a basement, the one that housed the coal burning furnace with the stoker and coal bin? Remember how you used to pray there? You would remove your hat, take me in your arms and pray? You remember that don’t you? No? Dad, do you know that your sons-in-law, your daughter-in-law, your grandchildren all remember how you prayed? Did you know that the last time our family was all together that Mark recorded your prayer, the one you prayed before the meal? Dad, you prayed from your heart, you had passion and you simply talked to God. You always prayed for the ‘less fortunate’, your children and grandchildren and the government. You did not pray to be heard by others, you talked to God and you had a mission. Dad we learned because you were you.
Dad, do you remember how I used to follow you around the farm? I was on your heels. It did not matter whether we were feeding the cows, hogs, sheep, chickens, turkeys or combining wheat, or putting up hay, I was there. You taught me how to drive tractor, rake straw and hay, milk cows, pull baby pigs. Dad, do you remember the nights when it was pitch dark, and I was trotting alongside you with my small hand in your large one - I felt so safe, so protected and then we would talk about God? Do you remember how the stars sparkled so brightly against the dark sky and you told me how God made those stars? You don’t remember, do you? It does not matter, but I remember.
Do you remember how we used to discuss Bible when we were milking cows? How we would discuss life, trials and our responses to them? Remember that? Dad, do you remember how I have found you crying your heart out because of a situation in which you found yourself but was unable to fix it? And what you advised me? No, you don’t remember. Probably not, but I do. And Dad it is this incident and another one like it that had me feeling glad that you could finally go be with the LORD. Life was hard, tough for you, but you stood up to it and you kept right on. You never gave in because God was your refuge and your fortress. All of us children saw this, Dad. Are you not glad - now?
Dad, you were not prefect, we all knew that. You were generous to a fault. You was an easy prey for a slick talking salesman or any one who came around with a sob story. You would open your wallet and buy or give, which ever the case may have been. In the process your were taken for a ride and lost money. Dad, we learned from your mistakes, so it was not all in vain. God was able to redeem these situations to teach us children on being careful and still being generous.
Dad, you taught me how to appreciate nature, its beauty. Do you remember how you were combining wheat and I was riding in the grain hopper when you saw a skunk? You stopped, pointed him out to me? There in all its glory stood a beautiful skunk, all black except for the beautiful white stripe that began at its head and ran all the length of its back to the tip of its tail. Dad, you just stopped and admired that beautiful animal, the one God had designed for our enjoyment that reflected his glory? No, you probably do not remember that because this was a part of who you were and how you did life. It was routine. But Dad, your oldest daughter remembers this very well, and I am so grateful.
Dad, this tribute is only a small part of what you have done for me. God was indeed watching over me when he made me to be your first-born. I have loved it and you have loved me. May you rest in peace and I will give God the glory. Thank-you, Jesus!
Your loving daughter, Sandra
ginnyrose