A Simple Song

My sisters: Dori, Sandee, Me and Joni

Earlier today it was recommended to me
that I listen to a song on YouTube.

Although it was a familiar song to me

it wasn't one I knew well and certainly not one from my childhood.
But in hearing it, for whatever reason, emotions welled up inside of me.

Good emotions.

Ones of security and safety.
Of loving and being loved.
Remembering.

Although I am happy to be at this stage of life
there are times when those feelings come over me
and I am washed in the joy of innocence,
the excitement of discovery, the warmth of belonging,
and the freedom of being young.

My parents: Keith & Delores Miller

I was blessed with a wonderful childhood.

Parents that loved each other (and still do!).
Parents that didn't seek after riches
but instead sought to be rich in the things that mattered.

Dad worked hard and if there were times we were poor, I didn't know it.
No, we didn't always have the newest toys or the latest designer jeans
but what we may of lacked financially was small in comparison to what we had.

Dad and Mom made hard choices like selling a successful business in order
to take a lower paying job so Dad could be at home more.
They both made the decision for Mom to be "a stay at home Mom".

Family was decidedly more important
then driving a fancy car or
Mom having a closet full of dresses and shoes.
Or a large retirement plan.

Oh sure, there were times of longing for "things"
but I don't remember dwelling on that.

What I do remember is a house full of laughter,
A Mom that was my greatest confidante
and many friends & family around our kitchen table.

Sitting on the ice cream freezer while Dad hand cranked it.
Stirring the thickening that would become gravy.
My hair blowing in the wind on a quick motorcycle ride around the block.
Husking the corn on the last day of summer vacation.
Drying dishes while Mom put away leftovers and one of the sisters washed.
Mom singing to her latest made-up song
or whistling an old hymn.
Singing.
Dad pushing me on the swing.
A gentle spanking that made me cry
because it hurt my feelings rather than my bottom.
Crazy made-up plays that the parents had to watch.
The smell of a freshly cut lawn.
Saturday night baths and Lost In Space.
Playing Dutch Blitz late at night because Mom wanted to play one more hand.
There were always games.
And always there was talking. Much talking.
And laughter.

And people - did I mention the people.
Our house was always full of people.

Both of my parents are warm and friendly.
Dad is good in a group and never knows a stranger.
Mom is more of a "one on one" type of person.
Looking back I wonder if some of the boyfriends us girls had
stuck around as long as they did because they wanted to
talk with Mom. No kidding.
Dad could easily get acquainted with anyone but Mom could truly know them.

And our friends wanted to be there.
Every Sunday we went to church and Dad faithfully
would drive around picking up our friends
so they could go with us.
And then, after church, they were just a part of the family for the day
because, I suppose, that's just how it was suppose to be on Sundays.

I don't remember not loving Jesus.
Oh sure, I had to come to a decision to make Him my Savior
at some point in my life but I just always loved Him.

I had heard about Him for as long as I could remember.
Bible story books. Singing. Praying.
Still today my parents encourage me in things of the Lord.

Through the years they have supported me in unbelievably hard situations.
They have encouraged forgiveness when others wouldn't have.
They have given me an example of loving
when it's difficult as well as when it's easy.
They have shown me that faith is to be practiced in the most difficult of times.
And I have learned what it means to follow hard after the Lord from them.

A simple faith? Simple people?
Maybe. But real.
Very, very real.

My journey of faith began with them.

I am forever grateful.

So many memories from a simple song played on YouTube.