by Nick Vujicic
Helping Hands
There is one more people skill that is often disdained or overlooked, but one I’m quite familiar with: the willingness and the humility to ask for help when you need it. Jesus, the son of God, rarely walked alone on this earth. He was usually in the company of one or more of his disciples. You should never feel that you have to go it alone. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of strength. The Bible says, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door shall be opened.”
A few years ago my heavy travel schedule led me to decide to return to using caregivers, which is something I tried to avoid for a long time. When I was younger, I wanted to prove that I could survive day by day without depending on other people. Being independent was important to me. I needed to know, for my own peace of mind and my self-esteem, that I could live on my own if necessary.
But as my public speaking career took off and invitations to speak came from all over the globe, I realized that I was burning up too much energy taking care of myself, especially on the road. To speak to as many people in as many different places as I do, you have to be fully engaged and full of energy. I went back to employing caregivers even though someday, down the road, I hope to have a wife and family and again be independent.
When you have a caregiver, lacking people skills is not an option. Even if their pay is good, you can’t expect someone to feed you, travel with you, shave you, dress you, and sometimes carry you around if they don’t like you. Luckily, I’ve always had good relationships with mine—though they’ve sometimes been put to the test. I did not have a full-time caregiver until 2005, when Craig Blackburn, who’d been inspired by my speaking and testimony in church, contacted me. He offered to work as my caregiver, driver, and coordinator for a three-week speaking tour along the sunny Queensland coast. I was a little nervous about doing the tour with someone I didn’t know well, but I prayed on it, checked his credentials, and decided I could trust him. Craig proved to be very helpful, allowing me to save my energies for my speaking and other duties.
In my determined effort to prove my independence while also building a career that required intense travel, I’d been too proud to ask for help, even when it made sense to do so. You shouldn’t make the same mistake. Know your limitations. Protect your health and sanity by doing what is only human: reaching out when conditions call for it. But remember, to ask something of friends or co-workers is rude unless you’ve shown interest and consideration for them. No one owes you anything more than you have given to them.
A few of my caregivers have been friends, family members, and volunteers over the years, but most are paid to assist me because the job is demanding, given my hectic schedule. I began using caregivers more and more while traveling in the United States in 2006. A fellow named George had volunteered to serve as my driver and caregiver on that tour, but he showed up driving a wreck of a little car that was loud and stinky and, to my astonishment, had a gaping hole in the floor! It was a bit of a shock. I had visions of falling through and being flattened by a trailing truck. I never felt entirely safe in that car, but George proved to be a loyal supporter and a great caregiver.
One of my current caregivers, Bryan, was put to the ultimate test during my European speaking tour in the summer of 2008. We’d been traveling nonstop for about a week when we arrived for a one-night stay at a hotel in Timisoara, Romania, a beautiful city known as “Little Vienna,” in the Transylvanian Alps. I’d always heard that this was a spooky corner of the planet, and my suspicions were confirmed.
Dead tired from lack of sleep, I was too weary to fret. This was the first night on the long tour where I was scheduled to catch some serious rest. Since I’d been having trouble sleeping, Bryan offered me a melatonin capsule, which is supposed to help your body deal with jet lag.
At first, I told him I’d better not take it. Because of my low body weight, I sometimes have strange reactions to supplements. Bryan convinced me it was safe, and just to be cautious, I took only a half-dose. Luckily I didn’t swallow the entire capsule. I fell into a deep sleep right away.
On some tours I become overtired, and despite the tremendous effort it takes for me to sit up in bed, I’ll do just that in my sleep, and then I’ll begin speaking as if I’m addressing an audience. On this night I woke up Bryan in the next room because I was preaching! In Serbian!
Bryan woke me up before I roused all of Romania with my sleep-sermonizing, and we both realized then that we were sweating like crazy. We’d been cooking in the summer heat because while we slept, the room air conditioner had shut down. Naturally, we opened the windows to allow some fresh air to flow into our rooms. Then, bone-tired, we returned to our beds.
An hour later we again were awakened; this time we were being eaten alive by huge Transylvanian mosquitoes. (At least we hoped they were mosquitoes!) At that point I was dead tired, overheated, itching all over my body, and—a special bonus—lacking the usual scratching tools. It was torture!
At Bryan’s suggestion, I took a shower to relieve the itching. Then he sprayed my swollen bug bites with an anti-itching first aid remedy. I returned to my bed, but ten minutes later I was hollering for Bryan again. My poor body was on fire! I’d had an allergic reaction to the anti-itching spray.
He scrambled to haul me into the shower again, and in the process he slipped, fell, and banged his head on the toilet, nearly knocking himself out! Exhausted, we just wanted to sleep, but our night of horrors was not yet over. With the air conditioner out, the room was just too hot. By this time I wasn’t thinking like a sane person, so I told Bryan to lend me a pillow.
“The air conditioner is working in the hallway, so I’m sleeping out there,” I told my baffled caregiver.
Bryan didn’t have the strength to argue with me. He collapsed on his bed, and I crashed just outside the room, leaving the door open so he could hear me if I needed help. We snoozed like that for an hour or two before a total stranger stepped over me, marched into the room, and berated poor Bryan in broken English.
He ranted on for several minutes before we figured out that our intruder was furious because he thought Bryan had thrown me out in the hallway to sleep on the floor! We had a tough time convincing this would-be Good Samaritan that I was sleeping in the corridor by choice.
Once the stranger left, I crawled back into my bed. Bryan returned to his. But just as we finally drifted off to sleep, Bryan’s cell phone rang. When he answered, a verbal blast pounded his ear. It was the coordinator of our speaking tour. Evidently our well-meaning intruder had not been convinced. He’d reported to hotel security that I’d been left in the hallway all night, and they’d raised heck with our coordinator, who was threatening to have poor Bryan tarred and feathered.
Now you can see why I normally employ three caregivers who rotate on shifts seven days a week. Bryan and I can laugh about our nightmarish night in Transylvania now, but it took several nights of sleeping in cool rooms, without bugs, to get over it.
One of the lessons I had to learn early in life was that it’s okay to ask for help. Whether you’ve got all the standard body parts or not, there will be times when you simply can’t go it alone. Yes, humility is a people skill and a God-given gift.
You have to be humble to ask others for help, whether it’s a caregiver, a mentor, a role model, or a family member. When someone is humble enough to reach out for assistance, most people respond by giving of themselves and their time. If you act as though you have all the answers and don’t need anyone else, you are less likely to attract support.
PANTLESS AND SPEECHLESS
As a child I was taught that all honor goes to God, and as a man I’ve come to realize that whatever good I accomplish is done not by me but through me. It seems God believes I need a lesson in humility now and then so that I never lose my ability to engage and bond with others. Sometimes those lessons ar
e hard. Sometimes they are hilarious.
I was still living in Australia in 2002 when my cousin Nathan Poljak accompanied me to the United States to speak at a church camp. We arrived the night before the engagement and were seriously jet-lagged by the long flight. We overslept.
I was scheduled to rise early to teach a Bible class, but no one had the heart to wake me. I rose from my coma just about fifteen minutes before the class was to start. We were staying nearby, so I thought we could still make it. We rushed to the camp, but when we arrived, I realized I had to use the restroom. Now, believe it or not, that’s something I can usually do on my own. I will never give away my secret techniques, but replacing zippers with Velcro proved to be a big help. Nathan offered to assist me because we were in such a hurry. He carried me into a public restroom stall and set me up to do my business.
Once I’d finished, Nathan came in to help me close up shop, and as we were completing the process, he dropped my shorts into the toilet bowl! We froze in horror with our mouths gaping as my dignity disappeared in a slow-motion whirlpool. There I stood, pantless and overdue for my Bible school lecture. I stared in horror at my cousin. He mirrored my shock. And then we both set to laughing like two loons of the loo. We couldn’t even fish my pants out because we were yucking it up so wildly, and our ineptitude made us even sillier with glee. Nathan has the most infectious laugh, and when he starts in, I can’t help myself. I’m sure people standing outside the restroom wondered what was so hilarious in stall number three.
My cousins and brother and sister helped me learn to laugh when I find myself in ridiculous situations, and this was certainly one of them. They’ve also taught me to lean on those willing to help and to ask for assistance when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I encourage you to do the same.
THE HAND-OFF
My caregivers have been terrific over the years, and I’m fortunate to have them stay in my life as friends after they’ve moved on to new work. Nearly all actually start out as friends or people I’ve met while speaking, then come to work with me. There is always a break-in period, of sorts, and often it’s quite amusing.
People who’ve been with me awhile often say they quickly forget about my missing parts and my disability becomes irrelevant. That’s great, all well and good, except when the person happens to be my caregiver. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked a rookie caregiver to give me a drink of water and he’ll try to hand me a glass. There is always this moment of pause with his hand extended, holding the glass in the air and waiting for me to take it. Then there follows a sudden rush of blood from the face of the caregiver as he realizes, Oh my God! I just tried to hand a glass of water to a guy with no arms! What was I thinking?
“It’s okay,” I tell them. “I’m used to it.”
Chances are you don’t need a trained person to be there for you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But we all need caregivers of some sort, someone to share ideas with, someone who will always give us honest advice, or someone who serves as an encourager, mentor, or role model.
It takes humility and courage to admit that you don’t know everything or that you could use a hand. I mentioned earlier that when you have a sense of purpose and have committed to pursuing your dreams, you will always have a few detractors. Fortunately others will also appear—sometimes where you least expect it—to give you a boost, or to offer guidance. You should be ready for them because bonding with them can change your life.
There are three types of guides whose relationships have impacted my life: Mentors, Role Models, and Fellow Travelers.
Mentors are people who’ve been where you want to go, but they are also supporters and encouragers who share your dreams and truly want you to succeed. Your parents are natural mentors, but if you are lucky you will find others willing to step up in that role throughout your life. One of my earliest was my mother’s brother, my uncle Sam Radojevic, who still lives in Australia with his great wife and wonderful children. He has the heart of an entrepreneur, the ingenuity of an inventor, and the vision of an explorer. Uncle Sam is always open to new experiences, and when I was young he encouraged me to take wing. He told me that the only true obstacles in life are those we make for ourselves. His guidance and support gave me the courage to expand my vision.
I’ve known many people who carry the burden of regret throughout their lives, but Uncle Sam has never been one to look back. Even when he makes mistakes, he always pushes forward to the next opportunity with the irrepressible spirit of a child in love with life.
He loves to design and build motorcycles and bicycles, but he doesn’t just do it for himself. He helped the government of Victoria start a program in which prisoners repair and restore old bicycles for disadvantaged children and adults who couldn’t otherwise afford a bicycle. Thousands of bikes have gone out to the needy because of that program.
Uncle Sam encourages me to likewise keep looking ahead, and he has always believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. I was thirteen when he told me, “Nicholas, you will shake the hands of presidents, kings, and queens someday.” He believed even then that God had a big plan for me. What a great person to have as a mentor!
I encourage you to reach out for your own mentors. But understand that true mentors aren’t just cheerleaders—they will tell you when they think you are wandering off course. You have to be willing to listen to their criticisms as well as their praise, knowing that they have your best interests at heart.
I also looked up to my cousin Duncan Jurisic. When I was a child, I’d often be afraid to inconvenience someone to take me to the loo, so he helped me come up with a line to remember. He said, “When you need to go, just let someone know.” Not only did he and my other Vujicic cousins continue to love and support me, but Duncan and his mother, Danilka, helped me overcome my fears in the early days of my speaking career. Their family, who ran the Australian Hospitality Group in Melbourne, offered me their wise and valuable guidance.
Role Models have been where you want to go, but they aren’t usually as close to you as mentors. Usually you watch them from afar, study their moves, read their books, and follow their careers as models for your own. Often these are celebrated figures in your field, people whose success has made them famous and respected. One of my long-term role models whom I’ve always wanted to meet is the Reverend Billy Graham. He has lived the words from Mark 16:15 that also are my inspiration: “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature.”
There has to be a place somewhere between mentors and role models for folks like Vic and Elsie Schlatter, whom I’ve visited at least once a year nearly every year of my life. They always inspire me to be a better Christian and a better person. They live in Australia, but they have planted more than sixty-five churches and missions in far-flung corners of the South Pacific. They are my models for making a difference as missionaries. They work quietly, without a lot of publicity, and they never puff themselves up, but they’ve made a world of difference for many, many souls.
As a teen Elsie had a vision of Jesus standing before her instructing her to “go.” Elsie took that to mean that God wanted her to do missionary work one day. Vic worked for General Electric at a nuclear plant after they got married, but he and Elsie also started a church and began planning their first mission—to Papua New Guinea, a small tribal nation in the South Pacific that had very little exposure to Christianity. Small though the nation was, its three million people were dauntingly diverse, speaking more than seven hundred dialects.
Vic and Elsie fell in love with that part of the world, and they now live on the north coast of Australia. From that base they conduct mission work around the South Pacific. In addition to writing several books of his own on religion, Vic has translated the Scriptures into pidgin English and other dialects for the indigenous tribes he and Elsie serve.
Identifying a Fellow Traveler is a bit tough for me because my life has followed a rather unconventional path. Fellow travelers are usually peers,
co-workers, and others with similar goals to yours, who are walking on a parallel road. They might even be rivals, but friendly rivals. You encourage and support each other by practicing an abundance mentality rather than a scarcity mentality.
When you believe in abundance, you believe there are enough of God’s blessings—enough fulfillment, enough opportunity, enough happiness, and enough love—out there for everyone. I encourage you to take that point of view because it opens you up to other people. If you tend to think of the world as a place of scarce resources and limited opportunities, then you’ll see fellow travelers as threats who’ll take what is out there and leave nothing for you. Competition can be healthy because it motivates you, and you will always find others who want what you want. With an abundance mentality, you believe there are rewards enough for everyone, so competition is more about striving to do your best and encouraging others to do the same.
An abundance mentality allows you to walk alongside your fellow travelers with feelings of camaraderie and mutual support. I learned that in my friendship with Joni Eareckson Tada, who has traveled a similar path to mine. As I described earlier, Joni was a role model for me long before I knew her; she became a mentor, helping me get established in the United States; and now she is a fellow traveler, offering wise counsel and a sympathetic ear.
Another person who has been there for me in all sorts of ways is Jackie Davison, who lived around the corner from my family when I was a teenager. She was married with young children, but Jackie always found time to listen to me as I spilled my guts about whatever was on my mind, good or bad. She was close enough in age that she was more of a wise friend than a judgmental adult. I have such love for her family, and I became an unofficial big brother to her kids, helping them with their homework or just hanging out.