Live Your Best Life

Clarifying Life

My life this past year has been a weeding out process. There was too much pain and chaos circling around me. I realized I needed to do some damage control in my own life...so I made some pretty drastic decisions. I find I am more quiet than I was in the past. I don't need to explain my thoughts or actions. I can just "be". This quote brought clarity to my soul:

There are times when it is best to take action… to explain yourself, have your point of view heard, look at all the angles, and hear what the other has to say.

There are also times when it is best to remove yourself from the situation and let the chips fall where they may. Let the other players bump up against the void that was once you. Let the other players make a choice that would open the door…or not.

Action is often short-sighted. Sometimes it’s best to let the chips fall where they may without your hand attempting to direct everyone involved.

From Beverlee Garb's Sole Purpose Community

My Paralyzed Heart

I didn't expect to become so paralyzed by the death of my father. I do have a testimony that I will see him again, I do know he is free from the discomforts of his mortal life, I know all these things. But I still need him!

In the beginning after he died, I dreamt about him every night for about 3 weeks. The dreams were mostly nightmares. One day I just yelled, "Leave me alone!" And leave me alone he did. My dreams of him stopped.

As time went on I heard my sister, my aunts, and other people say they had felt my dad's presence. I didn't. But I also knew why...because I had told him to leave me alone. One morning while sitting in sacrament meeting, I began to wonder if my dad was around me. At that very moment, a little toddler walked from the other end of the pew, holding a hymn book. She laid the book down beside me and turned and went back to her mother. I looked down and the hymn book was open to "Have I Done Any Good?" This was a hymn my dad requested for his funeral service. At that moment I knew he was there with me.

A few weeks later my mom and I were driving back from St. George. My mom was saying that she knew my dad was watching over me and my sister as we were struggling with being single women and all that entails. I told my mom in no uncertain terms that I didn't feel my dad was watching over me. My life had not been any easier and things were not looking any happier. That night as I slept, my dad entered my dreams again. He came into the living room. My sister, my son and I could all see him, but no one else in the room could. I took this as a sign, that at that time, he was watching over and helping the three of us.

Little things like these two stories, help me to feel my dad. I miss him so much. One of the greatest blessings of moving to Southern Utah is that my home is only about a mile from my dad's grave. A few times a week I go there to talk to him. It is very difficult for me not having a priesthood holder in my life anymore. My son Brandon holds the priesthood but he is in Sandy and my other son Justin holds the priesthood, but he is in Nicaragua. I do not have a husband to give me blessings of comfort and of strength. And now I do not have a dad to call upon. But when I go to the grave, I feel like he is there. wrapping his arms around me, giving me courage to face the day.



I do know that in time, I may begin to move a little easier, to feel a little more joyful, to find peace...but right now I just feel paralyzed missing him. I love you dad. You were my quiet presence and my gentle rock. I didn't know how hard it would be to let you go.

A Perfect End to a Perfect Life

Carrying out some one's wishes is very fulfilling. Knowing that my dad had planned his own funeral, made the time between his death and the service peaceful. He had arranged the prayers, the songs, the speakers, and the pallbearers. And can I say, "He did a wonderful job!"

A few days before the funeral, we went to choose the flowers. My mom chose "The Yellow Rose of Texas" for his casket spray and adorned it with a ribbon that said, "Loving Husband." The flowers from the grandchildren were patriotic in honor of his and our love of this great country. Their ribbon said, "Perfect Papa", which he was to them. As daughters we gathered to pick out the children's spray. We wanted it to be perfect, to have meaning. This meant going back and forth through the books trying to determine what our last tangible gift to him would be. We finally decided on a custom bouquet. I picked sunflowers for his ever-sunny disposition. My sister Lori chose yellow roses to continue the theme of his heritage, and my little sister Ginger chose some blue flowers to symbolize the Texas blue bonnets. Our ribbon said simply, "Our Daddy". The flowers were all beautiful and meant something deeper to us.



Tuesday night, December 28, 2010, was the viewing at Metcalf Mortuary. We stood in our family line, oldest to youngest. As different friends and family members walked in, I was overcome with love. My dad was a joy to be around; he loved people. But I was still surprised as people drove hours round trip to pay their respects to this great man.



I kept gravitating back to the casket. It seemed like the only place I wanted to be. It was a sacred place. Although there were many people there, I had the opportunity to spend much time alone there. I was touched by the note that my 6 year old nephew Jake had brought all the way from Tennessee and tucked into the casket beside his Papa's arm. He shared the note with me, it said he loved him and that he had lost his two front teeth. I know my dad would have loved that.



The viewing room was anything but reverent. We had over 100 family members come from coast to coast. The grandchildren were great in number. Although my father lay there and everyone took multiple turns strolling back and forth from casket to family to chairs, there was a feeling that my dad would have been happy. He loved laughter, he loved to see people enjoying each other, he loved family...but he most especially found joy in his grandchildren.



For his display table, we each did a picture frame of our life with him. There was one from his family growing up, one of him and my mom, and one for each of us kids. We also included his Air Force awards, his cowboy hat, and other memorabilia from his life. It was easy after browsing the table to see he had a very fulfilling and rewarding life.



As the night wore on and people began to disperse, we began to make preparations for the funeral the next morning. We knew that would be the hardest day of all. The viewing on Wednesday morning, December 29, was much more reverent than the night before. I knew, as did everyone else, that this would be the last time I would be able to physically see and touch my father. At the conclusion of the viewing, my mother, me and each of my siblings, went up to say our final goodbyes. The crank on the casket was turned, lowering my father lower into the casket. The top was closed, and one final lock was twisted to seal him safely inside. It was so hard to experience all the emotions at that time. The sights, the smells, the sounds of that moment are etched into my memory. My Uncle R.B. gave the family prayer and then we slowly followed the casket into the chapel.



The service went just as my father had directed. It felt good to be able to fulfill his wishes. My brother Jon gave an incredible eulogy. He talked about how my father lived, loved, learned and left a legacy. It was truly a tribute to my father both as a husband, father, comic, hard worker, priesthood holder and Son of God. My daughter Brooklyn wrote a beautiful poem for him titled, "Through My Eyes" and he had requested she read it. The grandchildren sang and sobbed through, "I Am A Child of God" and "Families Can Be Together Forever". His testimony was evident through his hymn choices of "I Believe in Christ" and "I Know That My Redeemer Lives". My cousin Allison played the guitar and sang my father's favorite song, "His Hands". I was surprised when my dad had requested we sing, "Have I Done Any Good in the World Today?" It seemed an unusual song for a funeral. Yet as we sang that hymn, I was overcome with tears as I knew that every word of that song represented my dad. He truly went about serving others. His final concerns before he died were had he been a good man and had he endured to the end. He had!



As the service let out, we walked to the entryway to watch the pallbearers put the casket into the hearse. It was raining and it did not let up for us. As I was driving to the cemetery with my son and his fiance I said, "Some say when it rains it is because the angels are crying. But I don't think they are crying today." My son, Brandon said, "Yes they are mom. Papa is telling them jokes and they are laughing so hard they are crying." I could see that being true.



As we arrived at the cemetery, what I saw took my breath away. There were many uniformed men standing at attention. All for one man...my father. The feeling was one of utter sacredness. Even the drizzling rain seemed to add to the feelings I was feeling. We stood silently as the flag draped casket was carried to the grave site. The gun salute was given, "Taps" was played on the bugle, the flag was folded and presented with some comforting words about service to God and country to my mother. Then my brother Jon dedicated the grave to be a place free from destruction and to house my father's body until the resurrection when spirit and body would be rejoined to form that perfect union. Tears were shed.



The pallbearers laid there boutonnieres on the casket and my mom, I and my sisters and the granddaughters placed our long stem yellow roses on the casket.



Then I was able to pay the final tribute. Texas is our homeland. It is the land of my father's birth as well as my own. My Aunt Elaine and my cousin Maria, were kind enough to send some dirt from their Texas gardens. I poured this dirt under my father's casket so he could be buried on Texas soil. It seemed only fitting that if he couldn't go to Texas, Texas could come to him. What a feeling of home that provided.



Slowly the crowd dispersed. I kissed the casket as my final goodbye to my perfect father. I am so grateful to live just a mile away from where he is buried. Even though I know his spirit no longer resides there, I look forward to the days I can go there and talk with him and feel close to him.



There are some things I will really miss. I will miss kissing my daddy's bald head. I will miss seeing his twinkly blue eyes and his great smile, I will miss hearing his jokes - he got better at remembering the punchlines, and I will miss his thumbnail. Last year he accidentally drilled into his thumb. His nail never healed properly and was wavy and bumpy. While he was in the hospital and while he lay at rest in his casket, I would keep rubbing his thumbnail. Call me crazy, but it gave me comfort. But more than anything, I will miss just knowing he is there...on the other side of the door, or on the other end of the phone, or ready to twirl me as we danced, or anxious to lay his hands on my head to give me a father's blessing, or his open arms just waiting to envelop me in a comforting hug. My dad was always there ready to receive and love me in any way I needed.



The day of my daddy's funeral was one of no regrets. I wouldn't have changed a single thing. He lived his life beautifully and this day commemorated his life in the same beautiful manner. How blessed I was to have had him for my 45 years, and how grateful I am to know he is my daddy forever. I will always love and honor you. Rest in peace Dad, and I will try to find peace as well, until we meet again.

Charles DeLee Pennington

Hurricane, Utah - Charles DeLee Pennington, 73, laid down his earthly body on Christmas Eve December 24, 2010 in St. George, Utah. Blue eyed baby Charles was born on November 27, 1937 to Mabel Florence Lindsey and Hugh Smith Pennington in Henderson, Texas. Charles was the first-born and older brother to 4 younger siblings. In 1963, Charles married Mary Jo Fawcett in the Los Angeles LDS Temple for time and all eternity and together they shared 46 years and 4 adoring children. Charles grew up in the oil fields of East Texas and shared many wonderful memories with his exceptional family. He attended school at Texas A&M and joined the ROTC program, foreshadowing his Air Force career. After graduating from BYU, the Air Force took him to many places including California, Utah and ultimately Vietnam. Charles heroically flew 365 combat missions earning the Distinguished Flying Cross and 2 Oak Leaf Clusters. After the war he owned his own business, Home Security Shop and later enjoyed working for and retiring from General Dynamics/Lockheed Martin. He has always been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He honorably served a 2 year mission to Northern California and held many callings throughout the years that brought him much joy. Charles’s life was one of service. His humble nature and love of all those around him blessed all that knew him. His talents were many and he selflessly shared himself unceasingly. You could always count on him for a joke or a listening ear, a bowl of homemade ice cream or help doing a home improvement project. The love he had for his family was immeasurable and the happiness they shared everlasting. His presence will be deeply and severely missed.

Charles leaves behind his wife, Mary Jo Fawcett Pennington and a posterity that includes four children and 14 grandchildren: daughter, Sheri Moore of LaVerkin, Utah and her children, Brandon, Justin (currently serving a mission in Nicaragua) and Brooklyn; daughter, Lori (Mark) Holyoak of Lolo, Montana and their children, Aubrey (Kenny Johnson), Lacey, Jace and Hallie; son, Jonathan (Lisa) of Cordova, Tennessee and their children, Nathan, Samantha and Jake; daughter, Ginger Wilcox of Cedar City, Utah and her children, Bailey, Dawson, Weston and Laynie. Also, missing him terribly are his 4 siblings: R.B. (Lena) Pennington of Aubrey, Texas, Louise (Lloyd) Freeman of Raleigh, North Carolina, Elaine (Jimmy Dan) Gauntt of Austin, Texas and Judy Rehkop of Tyler, Texas. He is once again reunited with his parents and grandparents, along with many friends and family that have gone on before him and what a wonderful reunion it was sure to be! Funeral services will be held Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 11:00 a.m. at the Hurricane LDS Stake Center, 272 South 700 West, Hurricane, Utah. Visitations will be held Tuesday, December 28th from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at the Metcalf Hurricane Valley Mortuary, 140 North Main Street and on Wednesday from 9:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. at the Stake Center, prior to services. Charles will then be laid to rest with full military honors at the Hurricane City Cemetery directly following the funeral service. Arrangements entrusted to the care of Metcalf Hurricane Valley Mortuary, (435) 635-9922.

My Dad - The Greatest Man I Ever Knew

Some people, in life, get lucky. I know I am one of them. I was born to an amazing man. My father, Charles DeLee Pennington, left this mortal existence to journey onward to paradise on Christmas Eve day, 2010.

My father has always been strong and healthy. Four years ago he was diagnosed with fibrosis of the lungs. Some allergen had entered his lungs and laid dormant. One day it decided to make itself known and since then he has carried around an oxygen tank for this same amount of time. It has always been a hassle to him, dragging the tanks, packing enough in the car to last for his frequent day trips, wearing the cannula in his nose. But he did it and without much complaint.



At Thanksgiving time he began to cough and he never quite recovered. He was taken to the emergency room on December 12 and was admitted that same day. He was quite the character. Always telling the nurses jokes, entertaining his many visitors, or telling us how much he enjoyed having his family around him. We never left him alone for even one minute. One of us kids was always spending the night with him and making sure all was well.

He could not believe that they served three full meals a day in the hospital. He was not use to eating so much food so he asked for smaller portions. He began to get hungry in between time and asked the nurse for extra food from the cafeteria. One night he asked the nurse for a grilled cheese sandwich...and said, "And not a wimpy one..." The nurse delivered a thick sandwich, chips, Dr. Pepper, fruit cup and pudding. My dad exclaimed, "I bet the people in the cafeteria said..That guy in room 303 is a pig, load him up!" Later that same night he was watching an infomercial on an excercise glider. He said, "I don't think now is the time for me to begin an exercise program." I laughed so hard I cried.



A miracle happened on Monday. Justin is serving his mission in Nicaragua. He and his papa have a very special relationship. I knew it would be very painful for him to lose his papa while he was gone. On Monday as he was emailing for his p-day, I caught him online. I quickly emailed him telling him of his papa's condition. Although I did not believe my dad would pass as quickly as he did, I thought it important that Justin get to converse with him. Justin arranged to go to his Stake President's home and skype with my dad. They were able to talk face to face - computer to computer - for quite awhile. I know that this was a tender mercy.



My dad was in a very unique position. He had only one thing wrong with him...his lungs. He could sit in the bed, talk, joke, eat and watch movies. But he could not breathe. If he tried to use the bedside commode, only 3 steps away, he was gasping for air and it would take 4 nurses and 30 mintues plus medication to get him settled down and breathing regularly. It was scary to watch. Eighteen litres of oxygen were being pumped into his lungs each minute. The hospital considers 4 litres high.

He had decided that he would go home on hospice. But the day held many obstacles and his transport home was postponed. That night the electricity at his house went off because of terrible rain and flooding. Had he been at home, it could have been a life threatening situation because his oxygen was connected electrically. We as his family would have been frantically trying to keep him alive without help from medical personnel. At this time we did not know how close he already was to death. The following day it was evident that transporting him would cause too much trauma to his body and it was determined he would finish his mortal journey in the hospital.

Because of his situation he could choose when he wanted to end his life. His lungs would never recover, he would never be able to leave his bed, he was losing his appetite, his heart had already begun to enlarge because of all the extra work it was doing, his veins were constricting. The writing was on the wall. My dad had jokingly said, "I think January 3rd would be a good day...and it would help with our taxes."

But for some reason that day changed. I spent the last night with my father. On the morning of December 23rd I woke up and saw him looking at me from across the room. He said, "Sheri, today is the day. Let's plan the funeral and then you can call your mother and sisters to come over so we can finalize everything." He said nothing extreme happened...no visions, he had been feeling an occassional tapping on the shoulder from some invisible source...but he just knew it was time to go. He asked me to dial each of his siblings, my brother who had barely left to fly back to his home in Memphis, the bishop of his ward. He wanted to talk to each of them. He began by saying, "It is time to lay my life down"...but by the final phone call he was saying, "I'm going to buy the farm."

I had spent much time alone with my dad, we all had. I had my chance to say goodbye. I had my time to love on him, reminisce with him, tell him how perfect he was as my father. It was a magical time. When he lay in his hospital bed, I crawled in right next to him. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder. I wanted to be his little girl all over again.



As the time drew near he began to talk about what he wished for when he got to heaven. My dad loves, loves, loves banana pudding. He said he hoped they would have banana pudding and watermelon on the buffet in heaven. I had thought all week about making him some, but I wanted to be with him every spare moment I had. I mentioned to the CNA Sheila, that I wish he had some banana pudding. In Dixie Regional Medical Center...ask and you shall receive. Sheila arrived with two pieces of banana cream pie. I fed him the pie, minus the crust, and he got the banana pudding he had been longing for. Thank you Sheila for being sensitive to my father's wishes. Each of the nurses and CNAs there were so kind and attentive. My father continually commented on how well he was taken care of. He had not one complaint...but then again, he never did. My dad was a ray of sunshine always.

We began to make the preparations for the time to begin his journey home. His little sister was arriving from Texas at 1:15 am on December 24th. He wanted time to visit with her. He continued to look at the clock. He continued to say he was ready. The whole day he had a peaceful look on his face. A goofy grin at times. His vitals were better than ever before as he had no longer had the anxiety from trying to breathe, but had relinquished himself to entering the next world. When the nurse would come in he would say, "I am going home...to paradise."



The nurses were so wonderful at the hospital. One nurse in particular, Jarvis, had spent time watching "Pure Country" with my dad and talking about old westerns. His shift ended at 6pm on Dec. 23, but he came in and spent 45 minutes with my dad, talking to him, letting him know what to expect, answering his questions and wishing him joy in his journey. He thanked him for being the ideal patient. He said, "It has been my pleasure to serve you." My dad left everyone feeling better. Then Jarvis turned to me and said, "Your family has never left your father alone. That is unusual. I know you have great love for your dad and I know that is because he had great love for you." It is true.



My sister purchased recordable story books for each of us. It was touching, yet comical, as we all stood around my father's bed, book in hand, recording as he read each page. What a treasure to share with the generations to follow. I was so proud of my dad, he spoke loud and clear and read without error. Even in his worst of times, he knew he was leaving something of great value for his posterity. Now each Christmas Eve, as we celebrate the Savior's birth, we can also remember my father's death and cherish his voice as he reads The First Christmas story.



At 2:00 am we all stood around his bed as he received a blessing. We hugged him and said our final goodbyes. We knew that once the process had begun he would fall into a deep sleep and he would not be able to communicate with us anymore. His final words as the drip began were, "I've never had trouble falling asleep." At 2:30 am on December 24th the iv drip of morphine and the Adavan was given to him. He quickly fell asleep and for the next 9 hours we kept vigil at his bedside. It is traumatic to watch a person die. The body reacts in ways that I was unprepared to watch. What was suppose to be a quick process lasted for what seemed forever. We were told that his heart was so strong it just wouldn't stop beating. As time went on, the oxygen was decreased until he was left with none. Some might think this sounds inhumane. But the oxygen was life support for him. It was the only way he could live...but shortly his body would need more than a machine could provide and he would have suffocated to death. This was his only choice that would not bring gasping for air and fear.

As his body continued to hold on, we played his favorite hymns, we prayed for him, we told him it was okay for him to go. We knew his mother who had died this past August was waiting for him as well as his father. He was excited to see his Grandpa Lee Lindsey and had regularly spoke of him. Different people who had visited him asked him to hug their loved ones. It was surreal to be a part of this process. We watched as his breathing slowed and the pulse in his neck finally stopped. We called to the nurse and she came in, put the stethoscope on this ever loving chest and said in a soft and caring tone, "He is gone." I then said, "Good job Daddy. Good job living and good job dying. You did it." He made a very brave decision and followed through with it. We then had to wait for the doctor to pronounce the same, "I am sorry. He has passed." And then we waited for the mortuary to come and take his body away.

As I left for home, my brain could not think, my legs could not hold my body. I wanted to shout to the world, "Do you know what just happened? Do you know that the greatest man in the world just died?" But I didn't. Even though I held the words in, the sobs could not be contained. I will miss my daddy. I am 45 years old and I realize I may live as long without my daddy as I lived with him. A little girl's daddy should never have to leave her.

The whole day prior to his passing, he wore this incredible goofy grin. He knew that although he was leaving his family behind, there was much work for him to do on the other side. He had faith that his testimony of eternal families was real. He knew that although we would miss each other terribly we would one day be together again.



I love you daddy...and I miss you terribly.

A Rollercoaster Month

It all began on October 7th. I received a surprise phone call from my son, Elder Brandon Moore. It was a surprise since he is only suppose to call home on Mother's Day and Christmas while serving his mission. As it turns out, he had a physical problem and was letting me know he would probably returning home sooner than his December 2010 release date. The following evening, the mission president's wife called to tell me basically the same thing. I spent the weekend wondering what exactly would be the consensus as to when he would fly back to Utah. Monday afternoon the mission president called to let me know I could pick my son up the next evening at the Salt Lake airport.I flew into action.

First of all, I was sure the mission president didn't know that I had moved to Southern Utah. I had to prepare to make the trip up there, see if I could arrange for him to have his homecoming the following Sunday in our old ward, and figure out how to get Brooklyn out of school on finals week without it hurting her grades too much. Also, I did not have Brandon's room prepared for him. Oh well, some things would have to wait.

That Tuesday we headed up to Salt Lake. I don't know who was more nervous, me or his girlfriend Amber who had been waiting for him for two years. We were lucky enough to have two of our friends who have airline ties sneak up to the gate and give us a play-by-play as he walked out of the gate and began his trek to baggage claim. I must admit, as I saw him coming down the escalator, I was shreiking with joy, jumping up and down clapping and excited that I could finally hug and kiss my baby boy. It was a wonderful moment.



After leaving the airport we headed to the Stake President's office to have him released. President Dibble did the honors. It was heartbreaking watching Elder Moore remove his missionary tag...the same one I had placed on him 22 months earlier at the mtc.



We followed up that meeting with a family dinner at Chili's. It was impossible for me to keep my eyes off of him. I loved watching him interact with Amber, I loved listening to his voice. I loved just having him back in my world.



We stayed the next 6 days at Brett, Cheryl and Brynlee Bishop's home They were so kind to us. They decorated the yard with posters and balloons, left notes and candy on our pillows, and encouraged us to have an Open House after his Homecoming talk.



That Sunday he gave a wonderful homecoming talk, testifying of Jesus Christ. He taught so many things I had never thought about before. It is a marvelous experience to be taught the gospel by your children.

We returned to La Verkin. I was anxious and excited to show Brandon the new home I had purchased and remodeled. I hoped he would like it, and even though he would only be staying temporarily, that he could feel like it was home to him.

We spent the next week fighting to get his medical records faxed from Nebraska to the surgeon here. We didn't want him to have to go through the same testing he had already had done there. They finally arrived and his surgery was scheduled for October 27.

Because Brandon had a few days before the surgery he asked to borrow my car and head up to Logan to spend a few days with Amber. I was carless for about 4 days, but since I am a homebody, and the grocery store and church are within walking distance, I knew I would survive. I spent my homebound weekend studying for my BYU Humanities final...which I passed, barely :)

Brandon arrived back in time to celebrate his birthday on October 26th. He is now 21. Ginger and her kiddos and Grandma and Papa joined us for the cupcake festivities. It was low key, but right up our alley considering we didn't have much time to prepare and Brandon wasn't feeling all that great. He had lost 20 lbs. in the previous 6 weeks due to his illness, so he didn't have that much of an appetite.



The next day we headed out to Dixie Regional Medical Center for the surgery. The actual surgery only lasted 1 hour, but the before and after lasted a total of six. We returned home to begin the recovery.



For the last week Brandon has gained 7 lbs., moved around a wee bit, but mostly just camped out on the couch. He sleeps there, he watches tv there, he texts there, he plays on the computer there, he takes pictures from there. It is really quite comical although it is also quite necessary. His recovery is a 4 week recovery. He is hoping he can return to Salt Lake at the end of the month to begin working and spending more time with Amber.



It has been a whirlwind of activity, but I have treasured it. There is nothing like having your son gone for two years and then having him in your presence and all to your self 24/7 for 4 weeks. Blessings can always be found if we take the time to look for them.