Tribute Read at Dad's Funeral

Tribute to Dad: David L. Miller

Written by Miriam, Myron, and Lowell, with input from Linda and Caleb

November 27, 2016

Summarizing and reflecting here on our father’s very public life presents a challenge. We run the risk of countering the impressions of those who knew him themselves. Furthermore, we have acquired so much new information from what people have told us since his death that we’re second-guessing some of our assumptions about who Dad really was. Those stories have enlarged our context and given us many reasons to rejoice in his legacy. They are a comfort in this time of grief and we treasure them. What we offer here should be viewed as our family perspective, with the full awareness that any individual’s story extends far beyond their own family’s knowledge and interpretation. Further extension occurs in the form of influence. In light of this we are aware that Dad’s story is, in a sense, still being written by all who survive.

Dad loved the church and the community and almost everything he did reflected that, whether preaching or managing Farmers Market. Yet, he moved outside that context with ease and was never burdened with a sense that an Amish Mennonite should be hesitant to engage because of the "differentness." It didn't seem to occur to him. He advocated for Amish exemption from high school attendance in the 60's, which led all the way to an audience with the governor in Topeka. In about 2005 he gathered others around him and gained an audience with a legislative education committee to seek an exemption for compulsory kindergarten attendance. He contributed frequently to news venues that allowed reader input.

Dad was often asked to speak for others who felt inadequate to communicate what was needed. Often these people were fellow committee members, students, and reporters or other writers who had gotten Dad’s name and contact information. Sometimes they were people who were seeking understanding about our faith. After Dad spoke to a class at the junior college in Hutchinson on one occasion, the class agreed that if he had chosen a career as a diplomat, he would have been very good at it. On another occasion when he had testified in court, one of the attorneys on the case asked him afterward, mostly in jest, of course, if he wanted to join his law firm. These invitations to communicate did not only happen for people outside this immediate community. On one occasion, a young man from church was especially burdened about the spiritual state of an elderly friend who was dying. Even after a conversation between them, he wanted to be sure that his elderly friend was ready to die. He was reassured after Dad went with him for a followup conversation.

Dad always had time for people. Myron recalls that young people would sometimes come to visit Dad and remembers that on one occasion the visitor left with a smile and a spring in his step, only to return shortly, dressed to help Dad with his work. He recalls another youth referring to a conversation with Dad, concluding with the remark that his dad doesn't have time to talk to him. Several people have told us since Dad’s death that they regretted the lost opportunity to ask him questions they already had in mind to ask.

Dad enjoyed lively discussions and though he had strong opinions and was outspoken, he didn't feel personally threatened by opposing viewpoints. He was open–even eager–to listen to, and consider the expression and defense of contrary opinions. Caleb says that it was from Dad that he learned the sensibilities and habits of a philosopher. Dad was also very curious and, because of that, was good at drawing people into a conversation with genuinely inquisitive questions.

When he discovered something that interested him, Dad loved to share it with others. In later years, as his filter proved less discriminating, this mostly positive inclination sometimes proved to be less balanced and judicious than was the case in an earlier time. Even so, as evidenced by what we’ve heard since his death, people were still being blessed by his interest in their well-being and his desire to help people solve problems.

Dad was never more motivated and engaged than when he was processing good ideas toward the result of concrete actions. The origins of Conservative Anabaptist Service Program is a comparatively recent example. Surely his involvement in the earlier events surrounding the formation of Center Church locally, and missions and publication ventures in the larger church constituency reflect this characteristic as well.

Dad had a strong belief that personal, spiritual, and church life should be carefully considered, and that considering long time consequences was essential when making decisions. Short term conclusions based on current sensibilities was never sufficient for Dad.

In the memories that are being shared since Dad’s death, very few people have mentioned his work as a farmer, which was his means of livelihood. We note that the work he did largely without pay is almost entirely what is memorable to others–not his farming. Leaving his farming endeavors completely out of the picture would be inaccurate, however. In answering an interview question from someone writing years ago for a periodical, Dad articulated the “increase” aspect of farming that he found particularly enjoyable. He mentioned the birth of little ones among the livestock and the pleasure of a harvest from the fields.

Observing nature gave him pleasure also, and farming offered many such opportunities. Miriam remembers that the first time she was introduced to an Indigo Bunting was when Dad identified a brilliant flash of blue as it flew across the road in front of them. When Myron and Rhoda were choosing a site for their new house, upon being asked, he weighed in with a recommendation that they build the house in a place that offers a view of the sunrise and sunset. He missed this view after moving to town. A gift Dad treasured was a rain gauge that measured rainfall to one hundredth of an inch, and we all knew that recovery had begun when Dad called Myron from the hospital after cancer surgery to ask how much rain they had the night before.

Another aspect of farm life that must have appealed to Dad is that working with his hands gave ample opportunity for his active mind to sort through and organize his thoughts. In his sermons we sometimes heard the same snippets that we had overheard when he talked quietly to himself while working. Miriam remembers once when she was ill and sleeping on the couch in the living room, hearing a lengthy discourse on the centrality of Christ late at night when Dad returned from an Upper Room Fellowship meeting with inmates at the prison. That theme often emerged in later sermons. Even when Dad did not speak audibly, his active mind was churning along, making connections, arriving at conclusions, and forming complete sentences. Probably because of this he had a reputation for absent-mindedness as an adult. Hints of this characteristic may have been evident as early as three years old when a household helper noted that he asked questions incessantly.

Dad pondered the ethics of various farming practices, and in a Peacekeeper of the Year award that was given to him in 2004 by the Kansas Institute for Peace and Conflict Resolution, Dad’s involvement in sustainable agriculture was cited among the ways in which he had earned the award. We suspect this farming label came as a bit of a surprise for what Dad had done simply as part of his commitment to good stewardship of the resources entrusted to him.

Frugality was another aspect of Dad’s sense of stewardship. In recent months, the soles on the shoes he wore every day had begun to detach. Linda reports that his remedy was to glue the shoes repeatedly. When his Sunday shoes were no longer satisfactory, some months ago he checked with one of his sons to see if he could buy a size to fit himself, but that wouldn’t go to waste later because, as he said, “I don’t expect to wear out this pair.” He was right. Those shoes are still in great shape, and Lowell stands to inherit them.

Frugality was probably the main reason Dad continued to prepare and eat his breakfast at home before he ventured out to the Dutch Kitchen to chat with brothers and friends. After several years of spending a lot of time at home with Mom in the final years of her life, and routinely preparing breakfast for both of them, Dad moved gradually again into circulating throughout the community. The Dutch Kitchen became a common morning destination. He also loved to attend community events and to visit with others in their homes. Some of those who will certainly miss him are those who benefitted from these visits. Dad considered a Sunday evening largely wasted if he didn’t make or receive a visit or have some event to go to.

From his recliner, alone and surrounded by stacks of reading material and a spiral notebook in which he wrote his Observations column and occasional letters to an editor, Dad’s conversations ranged far and wide via his telephone. He outlived many of his longtime phone friends, but others took their place. Some of his grandchildren often got a call from their grandfather. He frequently spoke by phone with two of his brothers, Paul and Perry.

Dad loved well those in his very large neighborhood. Those who were marginalized in various ways found acceptance with Dad, as recent shared memories reveal. Dad always loved children, and we imagine now that maybe our Heavenly Father introduced him to the great grandchild who was born since Dad’s death. He was eagerly awaiting this child’s birth. Dad’s first great grandchild says “I just can’t get Great Grandpa out of my mind.” His younger brother will miss the M & M candy Dad often shared with him and other little children after church. These toddlers and preschoolers provided a huge fan club for Dad.

Many of the rest of us echo Caleb's recognition that Dad embodied characteristics and ideals that have been thoroughly ingrained in us—so much so that probably we don't always remember that we acquired them from his instruction or modeling. For example, mental illness was never in a shameful category in Dad’s estimation. When one family personally encountered it for the first time, they took great comfort in Dad’s confident assertion that “it’s just like a broken arm or leg.” In other words, getting necessary help to move toward restoration is what is necessary–not fearful secrecy. Dad told a young lady outside the family who was about to be married that “Submission does not mean that you become a non-person. Men like women with opinions.“ That his children feel like they've always known these things is probably evidence of Dad's influence.

Dad had a great sense of humor, and especially enjoyed laughing at himself. Once while he was talking to a mother from a church in town, her young child turned to her and asked, “Isn't he handsome?” (Apparently her own father had just begun to wear a beard, and Dad's red beard had caught her eye.) As Dad told the story, the question put the mother in a very awkward position. “Maybe I'll just let you decide why that was the case” he explained once when he told the story. The mother rose to the challenge, however, and answered, “Why yes, in a rugged sort of way.” Dad loved the story.

All of us marvel at the vigor with which Dad lived until the end of his life. He just finished a mowing season in which he mostly did his own mowing with a push mower. He walked daily to the post office–a round trip distance of about one-half mile. The day before he died he attended a farm sale and declined a chair when it was offered. “I’m not as decrepit as some people think I am,” he protested. He had some official evidence for this. When Rhoda accompanied Dad to the doctor before his birthday in October, at one point the doctor shook his head and said something under his breath. When she asked him about it, he said it's "amazing" how healthy Dad is. He indicated further that he sees really good numbers with the blood work and he's in very good shape for being almost 89 years old.

About a month ago, during share time at church, Dad referenced three Scriptures as his personal testimony and Lowell took time to write them down. Dad then also expressed appreciation for the current leadership of Center church. These are the verses he cited:

Luke 12:13 And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.

Psalm 139:23 Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:

24 And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

Acts 24:16 And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a conscience void of offence toward God, and toward men.

Within the past few months, when some of Dad's children were communicating with him about where we were in life, we wrote this: “Dad, this comes with warm-hearted appreciation for your influence on our lives. We appreciate your example of faithfulness to your calling in the past, even when it called for sacrifice and perseverance beyond normal expectations. You have often been perceptive about matters that were a puzzle to others, and you could clarify and articulate the essentials of these matters in ways that were a great help to everyone. You worked well with others and usually were able to sustain friendships even when there were disagreements. Many, many organizations bear the stamp of your visionary and inspiring input. It’s fair to say that they might never have been begun without your help, or they would have been less well-thought-out and less well-balanced without your steady hand on the rudder. Your vigor and usefulness extended well into old age–considerably beyond what most of us have any right to expect for ourselves.”

To his listening audience, Dad often referenced certain themes in familiar terms. We've repeated some of those themes in what we believe Dad would want to convey to this audience: In a shifting uncertain world we need to reaffirm our commitment to the One who is the same yesterday, today and forever, and to build on the things which can't be shaken. Life's decisions, individually and as a church, are best processed by taking the long look, and the big picture into account. Diversity characterizes humanity, but in whatever stage of the journey we find ourselves, it is important to appropriate the grace of God so that we can finish well and arrive safely home in heaven for all eternity.

A young mother from church who apparently appreciated Dad's contribution once told one of Dad's daughters-in-law that she “just wishes David L. would live forever.” When the conversation was recounted in Dad's hearing, he said, “Tell her I've got plans.“

Thank you Dad for practicing what you preached and for making those plans for eternity.

Dad, today we're feeling our loss,  We look into those large empty shoes you've left behind.  Together, collectively, let's put those shoes on and run with purpose the next leg of the relay.  Dad, your course is run.  Rest well.