Just Live Your Life – God’s Grace Is Sufficient

By Larry and Carol Smith

Posted June 1, 2017

Carol and I pulled in to the Parking lot at Clear Creek Recreation Area and slowly made our way to a parking place close to the swimming area and adjacent to the bike trail. It was February. The day was cloudy, but the weather was mild. We had expected there would be quite a few people visiting the park, but it was completely dead. There were no cars or people at all that we could see.

I jumped out of the car and waited as Carol slowly got out. “I don’t know if I can walk very far,” she said, hesitantly.

“Well, we’ll just do what we can,” I said. “It is so quiet and peaceful out here. Let’s just walk a little bit and then turn around and come back. We can take the bike trail. It’s paved. And we don’t have to go very far.”

After getting our cameras out of the back seat, we joined hands and slowly descended down to the swimming area to take a few pics of the reflections in the water.

I looked at Carol, and she looked at me. We both started laughing. What a mess we were!

Carol, always beautiful, hair and makeup perfectly in place and always stylish, with just the right clothes for the occasion, on this day was wearing one of my old flannel shirts and a pair of loose fitting pants. She looked a little pale, and her movements seemed stiff and slow. As we walked, she held onto what appeared to be a lump bulging out from her shirt on the left side.

I wasn’t right either. I was feeling my age and frightened at the realization of all the things in my life that were out of my control. My weight and my blood sugar had taken a course of their own. The stress from my job seemed unbearable at times. All of the hopes and dreams and ambitions that I had throughout my life now seemed distant and unobtainable. The music, writing and art that had given me a lifetime of hope for the future had fallen by the wayside. And more frightening and out of control than anything was my ability to care for and protect this woman standing beside me who was the love of my life.

Since the day we met, Carol and I looked forward to only good things, the brightest of futures. God was on our side. He had been so good to us. Through Him we had freedom, and we were learning to be free. No dream was impossible for us to fulfill as long as we were under His wing, walking in His will.

We claimed the life we had in the Lord and lived it as best we could. Things were not always perfect, but we rested in the knowledge that the little issues we had were only minor setbacks, tiny bumps in the road that would smooth out.

Both of us had been through a lot during the course of our lives. But we knew that God put us together so that we could be happy and fulfilled in our golden years. And our first few years of marriage had confirmed that. Our life was wonderful and already full of great memories.

And then the bomb dropped, and everything went spiraling out control in an uncertain direction, on an unknown path that was neither secure nor content.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and turned my attention back to the present.

Having taken a few pics of the water, we began the uphill walk to where the bike trail began. The noise of a car pulling into the parking lot caused us to stop briefly, and we turned and watched as a young family exited from the vehicle. We could hear the mom and dad chatting cheerfully as they followed their young children who ran ahead to the beach, laughing and playing along the way.

Though I felt kind of numb mentally, the beauty and tranquility of Clear Creek, and the youthful enthusiasm of the young family, pepped me up.

The air was fresh and cool, and it felt good as I breathed deeply. The winter colors of the landscape were raw and beautiful, and deep inside I felt something stirring inside of me, as if Carol and I were off on a new adventure.

Carol was also looking around, surveying the path ahead. “I sure hope I can make it up to where the pavement starts,” she whispered, sounding a little tired. “Take a look at my drains. Do they look okay?”

We stepped off the path and looked around to make sure that no one was close by. Carol pulled up her shirt tail just enough to reveal the two small plastic containers with attached transparent tubes that disappeared into tiny holes in her left side. Fluid from Carol’s side oozed through the tubes and was making its way into the containers. I gently pulled Carol’s shirt back down and gave her a thumbs up. “They look fine to me. Will be hours before the containers need to be emptied.”

As I looked into Carol’s tired eyes, my thoughts went back to late November of 2016, right after Thanksgiving. That’s when the course of our lives changed forever.

Carol had recently gone to the doctor for her yearly mammogram. A few days later, the doctor’s office called and asked her to come back in for another look. There was a spot on the mammogram that caused some concern and needed to be looked at more closely. “Not a big deal,” we said to each other. “Probably nothing.”

The second doctor visit was for an ultrasound of the area. Afterward, we went out to eat and arrived home just after dark. Carol noticed that she had missed a phone call and gotten a voice mail message. The voice mail was from her doctor who left his home number and asked her to give him a call.

Carol called and the doctor answered immediately. The spot in the mammogram was a small tumor. It was probably nothing to be concerned about, he said, but to make sure a biopsy was being scheduled. It needed to be done right away.

Hanging up from the call, Carol looked at me with a strange expression. We were both obviously stunned. Holding hands, we prayed for everything to be alright.

A biopsy was performed a couple of days later. The surgeon reassured us that it was probably nothing to be concerned about. “80% of the biopsies of this type turn out to be benign,” he said. His apparent confidence in a benign tumor made us feel better. The results would take several days, so we put it out of our minds.

A week or so later the surgeon called us back in to go over the biopsy results. “Sorry to have to tell you this,” he said. “The tumor is malignant. This means you have breast cancer. Even though the tumor is small we need to remove it as soon as possible.”

He continued and told us all the options for treatment. Mastectomy and lumpectomy were frightening terms we weren’t familiar with. Radiation and Chemotherapy were terms we were very familiar with that scared the pants off of us.

After praying with us, the surgeon sent us on our way. He asked us to choose a treatment option and get back to him ASAP.

The bomb that we didn’t expect had exploded. Our world stopped that day, and our lives changed forever. Even the approaching Christmas holiday seemed affected.

As we went from diagnosis to deciding on a mastectomy to celebrating Christmas to preparation for surgery to the surgery itself and to recovery from the surgery, we seemed to be stuck in a cycle of uncertainty. Though the scenery changed, we felt as if we were in a bad dream that, though we tried, there was no waking up from.

The trauma of the diagnosis and the surgery took something out Carol. As she assumed the role of cancer patient, a role that was strongly reinforced by family, friends and opinions, she no longer seemed as interested in the activities that once drove her ambition and fired her imagination.

I was affected too, and my job and other interests suddenly became completely unimportant. All that mattered to me was Carol getting well.

We continued to try our best to maintain our spiritual life, and to stand on the promises of God for healing and for everything to work out for the good. But looking ahead we only saw a dense fog. And what lay beyond the fog was unknown.

Bringing myself back to the present again, I motioned to Carol to come on, and we walked ahead onto the paved bike trail.

It felt good, after so long, for us to be walking in the tall trees again, loving the warmth of the sun and the smell of the nearby water. Just ahead of us our silhouette made a long shadow on the path. Like children, we made “shadow puppets” and waved our arms and hands and acted silly.

As we passed an empty pavilion, a truck pulled up behind us. It was another family, and they brought bicycles. We were soon overtaken by the happy bikers who quickly passed ahead of us.

Carol and I talked about what we were going through. Would it ever end? And where was God? It seemed like He was a million miles away. We knew better. He would never leave us or forsake us.

But it seemed that some invisible force was trying to bombard us with doubt. A heavy load of worries and cares had been dumped into our laps.  The weeds and thorns of life had grown up around us and were trying to choke out our awareness of His presence.

We were much like King David, not sensing that God was near and crying out for Him from the depths of our hearts.

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me. How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart…?” (Psalm 13:1-2 NIV)

Like David, in spite of how things seemed, we desired to stand firm in our belief that God could be trusted and that His love was unfailing. We waited with all the patience we could muster for Him to make Himself known again.

“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.” (Psalm 13:5-6 NIV)

Our conversation continued as we walked the trail, crossing a picturesque little bridge and rounding a curve. The family, having already made it to the end of the trail, came soaring back by in the direction of the parking lot.

“Will we ever be carefree again?” I sighed, watching the happy family soar off into the distance. “We have so much hanging over our heads now. Will we ever even get back to normal?

Carol was feeling cold and pulled her jacket up so that it covered her neck more tightly. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But whatever comes our way, we’ll just have to deal with it and go on. Do you remember what the doctor said?”

Yes, I did remember, and another flood of memories came into my mind.

It hadn’t taken us very long, after Carol’s surgery, to feel overwhelmed. There were so many things related to her recovery that we weren’t sure of. There were so many do’s and don’ts, and our normal routine had come to a sudden halt.

The instructions from the doctor and hospital moved Carol from our world into a little box where she was to remain confined until there was sufficient evidence of recovery. There was to be no heavy lifting; no driving; no sleeping or laying on her side; no strenuous activity.  Weekly doctor visits were mandatory, and I accompanied Carol to all of them.

After over four weeks of restrictions, Carol and I needed a break. On one of our trips to see the surgeon, Carol expressed her frustration and asked when she would be back to normal. “Not for a while,” the surgeon said. “But you still have to go forward and live your life.”

“Live your life,” I said, smiling at Carol. “He’s right! That’s what we’ve got to do in spite of the circumstances. We have to confront our obstacles and, if we can’t remove them we must find a way around them.”

Carol nodded in agreement, but I could tell that she was getting tired. We turned around on the trail and headed back toward the lake and parking lot.

As we walked, we took in the beauty of Clear Creek and kept talking. Our conversation was mostly about God, and a sense of peace fell upon us and held us securely but gently in its arms.

In the solitude, we realized something amazing: Peace and contentment was always with us, right there in front of us. And we could experience it by acknowledging God in the moment. Good or bad, positive or negative didn’t matter. The peace of God was stronger than any earthly trouble or trial.

This idea was not new to us. But somehow we had never really taken it to heart. The bible plainly said that nothing could separate us from the love of God (Romans 8:38-39), and that He would never leave us (Deuteronomy 31:6). We knew this.

But our realization in that moment was that action was necessary on our part in order to take advantage of His presence: We had to acknowledge it and move forward “knowing” that it was true. It was our choice whether or not to believe and accept God’s help in our lives.

Like Gideon in Joshua Chapter 6, when the angel appeared to recruit him as God’s leader in the battle against the Midianites, we have God’s assurance that He is with us. The Lord is always with us to help with all of our battles.

But also like Gideon, we may feel weak, inadequate and unable to move ahead in life and God’s will. But as the angel told Gideon, we have but to move forward and “go in the strength that we have.” When we give him all we’ve got, He will provide the rest.

Finally,  we arrived back at the swimming beach. I wanted to get a few more pictures, so we sat on a bench near the water. The air was brisk, but it felt great. We watched as a couple of the children who were in the family of bicyclers played in the distance.

The tremendous feeling of peace was still around us. It was unexplainably strong. And considering what Carol and I were going through in life, it didn’t make sense. But that was okay with us. It didn’t need to make sense.

Carol reached for my hand, and her small, delicate fingers felt just right when they locked together with my big, fat ones.

We were so thankful for God’s grace. Like the bible said, “His grace was sufficient for us.”(2 Corinthians 12:9)

There was no trial that we would ever experience that His grace wouldn’t cover. We both felt weak and helpless on the human side. On our own we were out of control and powerless against our circumstances. But we had given it God, and now all the power of Christ rested on us. It worked through us, moving in the direction of God’s will and leading us to victory.

Carol put her head on my shoulder, and we watched the beautiful sun as it began to sink into the lake. We were so thankful for God’s blessings, and how our hearts rejoiced as we rested there in His presence.

2 Corinthians 12:9-19 NIV: But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Note from Carol:

Wow! Reading Larry’s account of our journey brings tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat.

I guess it’s one thing to walk through the fire but, when we look back and see how big the flames were and feel the heat that tried to consume us, that is when you truly respect the hand of God in your circumstances.

Larry had told me from the beginning that this (cancer) would not define us and he was right, to a point. It did not change who we were in the core of our beings. It only made us stronger.

However, the difference in how we perceive ourselves at any time and who we actually are in Christ is a total game changer!

When we were faced with the reality of something coming in and affecting the beautiful life that we had made together, that is when “the rubber met the road.”

We had to face each day knowing that we might hear the worst news possible. I guess that is when you ask yourself “what is the worst?” To us, we thought losing each other would be the worst. This was our defining moment when we realized that we were just a little speck of pepper in God’s enormous plan, and even if the worst came we were still eternal with our Heavenly Father.

We knew without a doubt that God’s plan for us was greater than anything we could imagine, and we had to trust him in the good and bad times. Yes, there are still moments when I am scared and I cry: “Why?” But, my faith is in my Creator, and I know his eye is on the sparrow and he watches over me.

It is going on six months since my mastectomy.

Surgeons removed my left breast January 27, 2017 and on April 26 they put in my permanent implant and did a lift on the right.

Thanks to my wonderful God and Lord, I am now cancer free. I don’t have to take any radiation treatments or chemotherapy. All I have to take is an anti-hormone pill.

I want to thank all of my family for the amazing support and love Larry and I have received through every step of this journey! You all have been my biggest cheerleaders!!

God has already placed a book on our hearts, and our testimony is already being told about the mighty power of God we have experienced.

I truly believe God allows us to go through things so we might have compassion for others.

I pray that this blog will move you to action today.  Lift up someone that you know is in the fire. It just might amaze you what God can do through a smile or a few words.

God bless each of you on your journey and… “just live your life.”

© 2017 by Larry and Carol Smith