Happy Father's Day, Dad

Grandchildren Erin and Matt Christensen

You know you're a Miller if you wear your "My Dentist Loves Me" t-shirt and you know it's true.  One of the most powerful moments in my life came because my Dad was my dentist and I knew he loved me.  Like many people I am seriously afraid of dental work.  It's very possibly because I have had so many cavities. I was home from college one summer and needed some fillings (of course).  I was sitting in the chair trying to talk myself into being a big girl..  I was suddenly filled with the knowledge that my Dad loved me and only would do what he thought was best for me.  I felt complete trust and increased calm.  Then I had a realization that my Heavenly Father loved me even more perfectly and I could completely trust in His love and care for me.  Life had challenges, but I was safe.

It seemed that my father had one main goal in life, to do all he could to ensure the spiritual and temporal success of his family.  He, like many of us, discovered that children can and do make their own choices.  But when I think of him, I think of him always trying to teach us the big picture.

Big picture number one.  "Love God with all your heart, mind and strength."  We woke up every morning to the sound of Dad playing "Oh Susanna" on the harmonica to call us to scriptures and prayers.  He served in the church in whatever capacity he was asked  and taught us to do the same.  We spent many hours on the road together driving to church meetings in the surrounding towns.  He used this time to teach us about life.

front row Mary, me, Susie
back row Melinda, Dad, my cousin Maren

Big picture number two.  "Families are forever."  Not only are they forever,  family comes first.  He took my mom on a date every Friday night.  There was never anything else planned on the church calendar or our calendar.  Friday's date night and that's that.  Tuesday night was date night with the kids.  He would take us to the Firebaugh Mexican restaurant, the ONLY Mexican restaurant as far as we're concerned. He told us that my mother's job (homemaker) was way more important than his.  His job was just to support her in her heavenly cause.  When he wasn't at work or at church he was home with us. I grew up with a father that was always accessible to his children.  He changed diapers too but only wearing latex gloves.  He explained, "Would you like to go to a dentist that had been changing diapers with his bare hands?"

The rickshaw after many years of fun.
Pete, Megan, Carrie, HJ and Susie

My Dad wasn't the type of guy that liked to take his kids to a beach house, but we had some great adventures.  He made a kayak and let us paint the canvas.  It seems like we used lots of purple.  We took it up to the canal for the maiden voyage.  We paddled around and then all "accidentally" fell in.   He took a welding class and had 2 projects.  One was a rabbit hutch welded to a tricycle.  His idea was that we could just pedal it around the yard and the rabbits could eat the grass.  The other was a little rickshaw.   We gave each other rides up and down the driveway (we called it the lane.)  We didn't have a swing-set on the farm, but we played on the tire swing, (Miller style) the bumpity bump (an old trailer that we would run end to end to make it well...bumpity bump,) and a spool that we rolled like a barrel. It's hard to describe, but it was a valuable skill, trust me.

OK, my mom's a great dancer but guess what?  so's my dad.  He taught me how to swing dance.  When we went to the Daddy-daughter dances at church there was no awkward  "How long do we have to do this?"  It was a blast.  Sometimes he'd show me the camel or whatever the dances were from his day. Thanks to this genetic heritage more often than not, if you're related to the Millers you can dance.

Daddy-daughter dance when I was in seventh grade

There are a couple of things my Dad does not like: entitlement and running scared.  He tried to instill a sense of self-sufficiency in his children.  We rode our bikes everywhere, we worked for our money,  If we were  demanding we could count on not getting what we were crying about.  Here's a little secret.  He likes to give.  When I was little and Dad was taking care of me, sometimes, because I didn't dream it could happen, he'd buy me a treat from the ice cream truck.  I went to campfire-girl summer camp and didn't have everything on my packing list.  I was planning on just living without.  When he found out I had no stationery he stopped at the drugstore and bought me some beautiful paper and a pen.

Nowadays we tell our kids to walk away from threats and alert the authorities, but that's not how I was raised.  Dad thought that was bad for confidence.  We were instructed, "If you get in a fight make sure and get your licks in so even if the other guy wins, he won't come back for more."  If my brothers were threatened at school he would say, "Don't come home until you've fought them."  He thought that we should stand up to our fears because if we ran scared, we'd always be scared.

One of the greatest legacies Dad has left us is music making.  He played his guitar and sang to us.  We sang in the car, we sang around the piano, we sang in church and we definitely sang in the "Program" (the family talent show.)  When I was about 3 yrs. old he was trying to keep me entertained and made up a song.    He sang it to each child.  In fact "You know you're a Miller if you think 'I know a little girl/boy named Laurie/Susie/Melinda/Mary/Heidi/Carrie/Peter/Megan/Charlie/Sam was written for you."  The best part about it is that my son sings it to his son too.