By Carrie Beth Hough
When I look back on my life, one word comes to mind: Blessed.
I often tell people that I had the most amazing childhood. After my dad retired from the military, my parents moved our family to the Country Place neighborhood near Barksdale Air Force Base. To this day, they still live in the same house where we grew up, and I can’t imagine a better place to have spent my childhood. Country Place was a kid’s paradise. We had a pond, tennis courts, a swimming pool, playgrounds, and plenty of open space. Yet somehow our favorite activities were much simpler. We spent our days playing in cul-de-sacs, riding bikes until dark, rollerblading, splashing through ditches, walking around barefoot, and only heading home when the streetlights came on.
The friendships I formed there became lifelong bonds. We attended school together, grew up together, and experienced every stage of life side by side. Haughton was much smaller then, and life felt simple. If you wanted to see your friends, you just rode your bike across the neighborhood or met them at the pool the next morning. Some of my favorite childhood memories were our family road trips to Kansas. We traveled in a giant purple van equipped with a couch that folded into a bed and a television. To us, it was luxury. I can still picture my brothers and me watching Bart Simpson videos and dancing to “Do the Bartman” as we made our way across the country to visit family.
I was the youngest of four children and the only girl. My brothers were seven, nine, and eleven years older than me, and I wanted to be exactly like them. I was the definition of a tomboy. I proudly belonged to an “all-boys club,” wore Speedo swim shorts instead of one-piece swimsuits, and insisted on having Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle birthday parties year after year. At one point, I even told my best friend Eva that girls weren’t allowed and spit on her to prove my point. Decades later, she still reminds me of it. Eva, if you’re reading this, I’m still sorry!
My mom dreamed of having a girly daughter. She tried Girl Scouts, dance classes, bows, dresses, and shiny church shoes. While she succeeded in getting me dressed up for church, by the time we reached the car, I was usually halfway out of the outfit. As I got older, though, things began to change. I discovered cheerleading and joined the school’s jump rope team, the Jazzy Jumpers, and I found a love for softball. My dad was my coach my entire childhood. Slowly but surely, I started embracing a more feminine side while still keeping my adventurous spirit.
Growing up, our house was always full of people. We had a swimming pool and a game room complete with a pool table, ping-pong table, and television. Friends were constantly coming and going. Looking back, I realize what a gift that was.
My brothers played a huge role in shaping who I became. As the oldest two graduated and moved on to college, my bond with my brother Jamie grew stronger than ever. Ironically, it all started because he got grounded for two weeks. Part of his punishment was being nice to me, and if I cried or tattled on him, the grounding started over. What began as a punishment became a friendship. Jamie became my driver, my protector, and my best friend. He took me everywhere—practices, parties, friends’ houses, and countless adventures. I’ll never forget riding in his white Mazda Miata with the top down, music blasting, feeling like I was on top of the world.
He was my person. When Jamie graduated and eventually moved to Dallas to pursue acting, a piece of my heart went with him. Meanwhile, I continued through Haughton High School, graduating in 2002 before attending Northwestern State University. Along the way, our family grew with three wonderful sisters-in-law and seven incredible nieces and nephews.
In 2005, while helping with a philanthropy event involving Tri Sigma and Kappa Sigma, I met the man who would become my husband. Cody. We’ve been together ever since.We married in 2011, and in 2013 God blessed us with our son, Carter Marshall Hough. Becoming Carter’s mother remains one of the greatest joys of my life. In 2017, shortly after Carter’s birthday party, my life changed forever.
For more than a year, I had struggled with severe vertigo. My doctors ordered an MRI. The next day, while sitting in my office at BOM Bank, I received a phone call informing me that doctors had discovered a large cyst covering my frontal lobe. My world stopped. Was it cancer? Would I need surgery? What would happen to my family? Thankfully, through a series of connections and God’s perfect timing, I found myself under the care of renowned neurosurgeon Dr. Anil Nanda. The day before surgery was one of the hardest days of my life. I sat holding my toddler son, wondering if it would be the last time I would ever hug him, kiss him, or tell him I loved him. As I was wheeled toward surgery and looked back at my family, I saw fear and tears in every face. Then something happened that I will never forget.
God showed up.
A peace unlike anything I had ever experienced washed over me. My body relaxed. My fears disappeared. Everything seemed brighter. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God and His angels were with me. I didn’t physically see them. But I knew. The next thing I remember is waking up after surgery and asking one question: “Where are my glasses?” My mom, Cody, Jamie, and my friend Kenda stood over me smiling as doctors began asking questions to make sure my brain was functioning properly. I made it. Dr. Nanda later explained that he had removed an arachnoid cyst roughly the size of a grapefruit. My brain had been shifted significantly by the pressure, and recovery would take time. And it did. The weeks that followed were filled with migraines, exhaustion, weight loss, and challenges. But little by little, I healed.
Today, every MRI still brings anxiety. Every report mentioning a cyst sends my heart racing. Yet time after time, my doctors remind me that what they see is spinal fluid filling the space left behind and not a dangerous recurrence. While that experience tested my faith, it ultimately strengthened it. Cody and I struggled with fertility for years and years, even trying IVF at the age of 40 with no success. God knew our family was perfect just the way it was, a family of three. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for what came next.
On June 20, 2025, my family’s world shattered. I was at a baseball tournament watching Carter play when my phone rang. I heard my mother’s screams. Then my brother Jason delivered words that still don’t seem real. “Jamie’s gone. He took his own life.” I collapsed. The days that followed felt impossible. Writing an obituary. Planning a funeral. Choosing songs. Preparing to say goodbye. At the private family viewing, I fell to my knees in panic and grief. This couldn’t be real. My brother wasn’t supposed to be in that casket. Jamie was my hero. My best friend. My laughter. My safe place. The pain of losing him has been deeper than words can adequately describe. Yet even in my darkest moments, God has never left me. Through counseling, prayer, tears, friendships, family support, and countless conversations with God, I have continued moving forward.
One song that has carried me through this season is “I Made It” by CAIN. Whenever grief feels overwhelming, I play it and remind myself that God has carried me through every storm before and He will carry me through this one too. My husband and son have been my anchors. They have seen tears that no one else sees. They have walked beside me through every difficult moment. Micah, Claire and Eva have also been there every step of the way. Micah and Claire have been when I stand and to have someone who knows what I am going through, it helps me to talk it out and heal. Eva was there for me as soon as I entered Haughton and since then she has been a constant contact checking in on me consistently. And I am forever grateful.
As I reflect on my journey, I see a life filled with incredible blessings, extraordinary people, and undeniable evidence of God’s presence. I’ve experienced childhood joy, lifelong friendships, marriage, motherhood, illness, healing, heartbreak, and loss. Through it all, one truth remains constant: God is good. All the time. And all the time, God is good. Life will hand each of us seasons of celebration and seasons of suffering. We don’t always get to choose our circumstances, but we do get to choose what we do with them.
For me, that choice is simple. I give it all to God. I trust Him with my victories and my heartbreaks. And I hold tightly to the promise that one day, I will see my brother again. Until then, I will carry Jamie’s legacy with me everywhere I go. He was my laughter, my protector, my best friend, and my beacon of hope. And while I miss him every single day, I know our story isn’t over. One day, we’ll be together again.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18