Blog - Page 6 of 13 - COME SO ALIVE

Hello, my name is…

On 08/12/2022

In "Come So Alive" Origins, Beauty in the Storm (epilepsy), His Vast Strength (stroke)

I wrote this for the ComeSoAlive.com “About” page almost two years ago as I designed a website for the new blog idea I had…the blog I didn’t really want to write. I also wrote it when our worst storm was my son’s epilepsy – before we knew a stroke storm was on the horizon…the storm I thought may be the end of my writing. But since deciding to continue writing from within this new storm, a lot of you have somehow found your way to this page. So, I thought it was time to introduce myself.

First of all, let me just say that I don’t normally have purple hair.

Secondly, I don’t like blogs (seriously). But I think I’m supposed to write a blog (seriously??).

Finally, if you join me on this journey, you’ll learn the beautifully bizarre story of how I ended up having purple hair (ok, it was just temporary but you still want to know, don’t ya?)

An extraordinary ordinary day

By Carrie

On 08/05/2022

In Finding Breath, His Vast Strength (stroke)

“Is this Carrie?” a voice asked on my phone as I was making supper. A voice calling from the hospital across the street from me.

I answered yes at which point he introduced himself as the ICU critical care doctor.

“I’m calling to let you know Chuck is still having trouble clearing secretions in his throat. We are getting ready to do another bronchoscopy.”

“Ok.” Because what else could I say? It was the second time they had had to clear his lungs in 24 hours since being extubated after the stroke.

“If we need to do another one tomorrow, we will have to do a tracheostomy to help him breathe.”

Sunday morning sunshine

By Carrie

On 07/29/2022

In His Vast Strength (stroke)

It is a gorgeous summer Sunday morning. As I am lying in bed, I can see the wind whip through the leaves and how it changes the dappled sunshine across my sheets.

For this morning’s song, I find myself singing,

“What can separate you from my perfect love? Do not fear. Do not fear. Do not fear.”
“Nothing to fear,” The Porter’s Gate

And I’m envisioning sitting on God’s lap, Him singing that to me and rocking me to the tempo of the song, which feels like a waltz.

Because right now I need someone bigger than me to make it all better.

Singing with God

By Carrie

On 07/22/2022

In Beauty in the Storm (epilepsy)

“I thought for sure you’d end up at the Grand Ole Opry!” My great-uncle said this to me one of the last times I saw him. When I was three, we lived across the street from Uncle Ole (what I called him even though his name was Leo) and Aunt Betty, my grandpa’s sister.

One night a week, I’d use my parents’ cassette tape recorder, hold the little microphone up to the TV, and record the Donny and Marie Show. The next day I would take the recorder across the street to Ole and Betty’s house, play back the previous night’s show, and sing along with it and perform for them.

Not sure if I was any good but I had the heart of a singer.

Age 3 – big sister by day, singer by night

Running on empty

By Carrie

On 07/15/2022

In His Vast Strength (stroke)

Have you ever run out of gas while driving? Thankfully, I haven’t; however, it became a possibility this week when we got in my car Sunday morning and it reeked of gas! The 20-year-old fuel lines bit the dust overnight apparently.

I knew it was coming as the mechanic who fixed the brake lines that went out two months ago warned me the fuel lines would be next. He also said he doesn’t replace fuel lines. I called the mechanic in my hometown and he said they would rebuild them. Actually, what he said was, “Anything can be fixed.” Hallelujah! My kind of guy.

I called him back yesterday to schedule an appointment and asked if it was safe to drive the car still, since he is an hour away from me. He said yes, but maybe not on a long trip. “You don’t want gas spraying out behind you.” Indeed.

I can just see that – driving 70 mph down the highway to get my car fixed and it starts spraying gas at the cars racing behind me. Not real safe or real kind. So, fingers crossed.

We were all outside yesterday doing yardwork (with the occasional waft of gas hitting us as the car is parked on the driveway for now) when a neighbor came over to the fence to talk. One of his children has been dealing with a severe health issue for 10 months and he had an update for us. But most of the conversation ended up being about God and prayer.

Don’t waste the waiting

By Carrie

On 07/01/2022

In His Vast Strength (stroke)

I don’t like winter. Yes, yes, I know. “But you live in Minnesota!” you’re saying. True. I really don’t know what I’m thinking sometimes…especially when it’s below zero…

Last December, as we waited to hear back on Chuck’s potential need for surgery, we made a last-minute decision to buy tickets to “GLOW” – a huge light display show at the fairgrounds (yes, outside…in the snow) on a night there was also a concert (yes, outside…in the freezing cold).

So, during the first week of winter, we bundled up and drove off to spend the evening outside.

When the waiting ends, part 2

By Carrie

On 06/24/2022

In His Vast Strength (stroke), Light and Dark

I saw a picture this spring that a pastor took in the silence of his church before the Easter service started, of spring flowers and stained-glass windows glowing in the sunrise. What I noticed most in that picture though was a space between – the dark, emptiness of the sanctuary between the flower and the window. A space of waiting, of peace and calm. A space to just sit and be.

Photo credit: Edward Goode, imagoscriptura.com

I guess that is what spoke to me because that’s where I have frequently found myself in the last several months. In the in-between space. In limbo. Not here or there. Not at the beauty of the flower or at the light breaking in at the window. But in that dark pew, just waiting.

To use a highfalutin term, I’ve found myself in a liminal space. Not in one space or another but between spaces. In waiting spaces. After Chuck’s stroke, I could see his ICU room window from our hotel and the other way around. But it took me ten minutes of walking to get from one to the other.

Walking, usually alone. In hallways. On elevators. In more hallways. I wasn’t in real spaces. Not where people live, where life happens. Not where I wanted to be. I wasn’t in the hospital room with Chuck nor in the hotel room with Cody. I was in no man’s land.

For this week’s post, a plog

By Carrie

On 06/10/2022

In His Vast Strength (stroke)

“What are those things that Chewbacca ate called again?” Cody looked at me slightly disgusted. “Porgs. And don’t remind me. That’s just so sad.”

Cody is a sensitive child. I think every day that I picked him up from preschool he had a dandelion, a twig, or a pine cone as a gift for me (I actually still have the pine cone collection in my car by the gearshift).

Chuck and I often hear him talking to bugs, “Hello. Who are you?” I heard that this morning actually. We had some weird bug in the house that I had unsuccessfully tried to swat last night. Cody found it this morning, used the fly swatter to scoop it up, and then opened the patio door and gently let it out.

Calling them his outdoor pets, he loves the birds in the backyard too. He was quite concerned about who was going to keep our bird feeder filled while we were at the hospital for his daddy’s surgery. Thankfully we have some very good friends!

Cody is so sensitive that he had a seizure three years ago the day of Chuck’s first surgery. Needless to say, we were quite worried about him surrounding this surgery too. That may have been the biggest stressor for us quite frankly. When friends asked leading up to the surgery how they could pray for us, we’d ask them to pray for peace for Cody during the surgery and good sleep at night at the hotel. He also sleeps very poorly any place other than his bed and consequently regularly has seizures when we travel – which we have pretty much stopped doing.

So, facing a 7- to 10-day stay was anxiety-producing to say the least.

Cherished

By Carrie

On 06/03/2022

In His Vast Strength (stroke), The Mystery of God

On a sunny June morning, I spent 45 minutes sitting in the rehab center parking lot taking care of the ever-present medical to-dos as Chuck was inside attending his PT appointment. I completed one set of paperwork for the appointment we were going to immediately after that one and thought,

“Ok, today’s done. What’s next that needs to be done for tomorrow’s appointments?”

I opened my phone to check the calendar and saw my meditation reminder. I decided to open the meditation app that I use before opening the calendar, and, as I did so, thought about what my pastor said yesterday when he visited us. We had been talking about meditations and he noted that if you take time for God, He shows up.

I haven’t been hearing from God much lately. Too angry or too tired to be able to hear Him, maybe?

But I decided to stop and listen to a meditation, not expecting God to show up but just to take a break.

An interlude with God

By Carrie

On 05/20/2022

In His Vast Strength (stroke), Pay Attention

“a short period of time when… something else happens,”

“a musical composition inserted between the parts of…a drama“

Last week, I wrote about taking an interlude from grief. On Friday, I decided that I wanted to get dressed up, including jewelry but my necklaces were all tarnished…since I haven’t exactly been getting dressed up much lately. So, sighing, I put on my everyday necklace, the “come so alive” lyrics necklace…the one that started it all, this foolish idea to write a blog.

Cody and I then hopped in the car to drive to school. The CD player is always on in my car, so as soon as I started the engine, the music also started – started playing the song whose lyrics were written on the necklace I had just grumpily put around my neck!

I had excitedly wondered that morning what my joy bomb would be, after a week of paying attention to them. Was it the male and female gold finch eating together at the feeder while we ate our breakfast? Maybe it was hearing that song after very consciously putting on the necklace. If not that, when would it happen? Would He make me wait all day? (Because I kind of have a deadline here, God, on posting my blog.)