Everything Is Possible

by Jen Bricker

  I had a pretty tough shell back then, and like a turtle, it protected me. But I eventually realized you can be so tough that you block out everything and everyone. If you accept only perfection, then that becomes the sole thing of value in your life—and there’s so much more than winning. Letting my guard down and accepting that I’m flawed are things I’ve had to work at. God meant us to fail. It’s His way of helping us accomplish something far more important and lasting than a momentary victory. It took me years to learn how to focus on what’s been given instead of what’s gone. But now I realize that the victory is in the journey—even if I stumble along the way. Thankfully, I had parents who understood that. Who let me try and fail and try again. When my belief in myself wasn’t strong, theirs was stronger.

  * * *

  My VIPs

  My Power Tumbling Coach: Beth Allen

  The first time I met Jen, I thought, Oh, what a cute little doll! She was always happy—one of the happiest kids I have ever met. Bubbly, willing to try new things, kind to everyone, a team player. The first time she came to the gym, I didn’t know what was possible to teach her without legs. And to be honest, I was constantly worried when she learned new skills. Even when she did it by herself, I would watch with one eye and say a prayer. Please don’t let her hurt herself! But she was not a bit afraid. She didn’t want help—even though I made her accept it. She did it all so easily. It was in her—the gift and the talent were there.

  She had a very strong drive to learn more and do well. Basically, our approach was to experiment. We had no idea what to expect or what she could do physically. We practiced on the Tumbl Trak and nothing scared her. She scared me sometimes, but she was so confident. To teach her I had to think about what it would be like to be her and how I would compensate for not having legs. Then we could figure it out together.

  When she competed or practiced, everybody in the gym would stop and watch. They weren’t staring; they were admiring her. At meets she would often get standing ovations. People were shocked at her power and mesmerized by her. Coaches would come up to me and say, “I tell my kids on my team when they’re whining and complaining, look at that little girl who doesn’t have legs. Look at how hard she works and what she can do.” Everybody knew Jen. When she came in fourth at Junior Olympics, I was so happy for her and her parents—it was so deserved. They are such beautiful souls, and I was so proud of and thrilled for all of them.

  I didn’t know what Jen Bricker would go on to do with her life after tumbling—but I knew it would be tremendous. And I was right.

  * * *

  I hope that one day when I have my own kids, I can demonstrate a similar strength for them. All parents have a hard time seeing their child unhappy, frustrated, or down on themselves. My parents had trust in both God and me. They resisted the urge to jump in and rescue me. Instead, they let me figure things out for myself. They let me find my own courage and wisdom. They let me fall on my butt. All were equally important. No one wants to lose. No one wants to be in last place. No one wants to fall. But God is our safety net. And in His eyes, we fail only when we allow failure to defeat us, when we refuse to trust that failure can be a gift—a chance to be better, stronger, and smarter the next time around. God uses everything in our lives to transform us into the people He wants us to be. Maybe that’s why I never let anyone spot me—I knew He had my back.

  BELIEVE IT!

  You May Be Your Own Worst Enemy

  I was always incredibly self-critical. My parents would plead with me, “Jennifer, don’t be a sore loser. Be a good sport!” when I didn’t come in first place at a competition. I wish I knew then what I know now: self-critical thinking is truly self-sabotage. I get it—succeeding and winning feel good. Losing or failing . . . not so much. But cut yourself some slack. Have compassion for yourself. Try to offer yourself a little love, understanding, and acceptance. Everyone has their bad days. It doesn’t mean you’re a loser or your situation is hopeless. Manage your expectations. Are you being fair to yourself? It’s great to have huge dreams and goals, but are they attainable at this point in time? Do you have a lot of work to do before you get there—or are you trying to skip a few steps? And finally, savor the small victories. Are you appreciating the little things you’ve accomplished en route to the bigger goal? The first competition I won might not have been the Junior Olympics, but it was preparing me for when that day arrived. When was the last time you truly stopped and appreciated how far you’ve come instead of bemoaning how much farther you have to go?

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sticks and Stones

  * * *

  Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen.

  —1 John 4:20

  When I was five, I attended the wedding of my cousin Jody, and an adult wedding guest asked me, “Why don’t you have legs?”

  I paused for a moment to consider, then I put it into the simplest terms I could think of: “Well, you know when sometimes someone takes a Polaroid picture and it just doesn’t develop? That’s what happened to me.”

  My parents said they were blown away by my answer and had no idea how I came up with it. It was the perfect explanation (and the perfect way to silence someone so nosy). But, frankly, I would rather people ask than make assumptions. Assumptions are almost always wrong and are fueled by ego, ignorance, and even fear. So go ahead, ask me anything! I can take it. I know people often have preconceived notions about me. For example, they think, given my circumstances, that I must have been a bullied kid and that I’m surely an unhappy adult with limited abilities. They think I need help opening doors (for the record, I don’t, but I’ve learned to accept the gesture with a smile). They think they have to tiptoe around the fact that I have no legs (yeah, I kinda know that already). Here’s the thing: I am happy, and I am strong (wanna arm wrestle?). I had an amazing childhood, and I don’t mind talking about the fact that I don’t have legs. I’m not offended. There doesn’t need to be an elephant in the room. I’m a big girl (okay, technically small), and I’ve heard it all before.

  And as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned a valuable lesson: the way you react colors the way people react to you. If you lose control of your emotions, then you’re admitting they’ve won—they’ve gotten to you. But if you keep your cool and don’t let them push your buttons, then who’s winning? That’s power. A lot can be said for owning who you are. When you’re okay with yourself, people are put at ease. Do people sometimes say stupid things? You better believe it. I’ve lost count of how many times someone has said something inappropriate to me, but they do so almost always out of misunderstanding or ignorance. I view it not as a personal attack but, rather, an opportunity to educate, enlighten, and open someone’s mind and heart.

  I was visiting New York City recently and called for an airport shuttle to take me to John F. Kennedy International Airport. I travel the world extensively, so I’m kind of a pro at the routine: getting in and out of vehicles with my luggage and wheelchair, checking in, going through security, boarding the plane. None of it fazes me. In fact, I’ve been in so many airports that I rarely need to look at a map or any of the overhead signs to find my gate. So when I got into this particular shuttle, I thought it would be just another ride in traffic out to the airport. No biggie. Instead, it turned into a huge scene. The driver took one look at me and launched into a tirade.

  “They didn’t tell me about you,” he said, as my friend helped me load my things into the van. He looked me over, top to bottom, and made a face. “They should’ve sent a handicapped van!”

  The word handicapped felt like a slap in the face. No matter how I tried to explain that I was perfectly fine and perfectly capable of simply putting on a seat belt, he continued ranting about “the handicapped girl” and saying he shouldn’t take me. As if I were a thing, not a person, in front of an entire van filled
with passengers. No matter what I said, no matter how fiercely I defended myself, he kept going. I could feel the anger rising in my body, and eventually, I simply lost my cool. It was so embarrassing, so degrading, so wrong. I don’t really remember what I said, but it wasn’t pretty. Finally, we got on our way, but the driver was muttering under his breath the entire ride. I was mortified and outraged at the same time.

  When I got to the airport, I was physically shaking with rage. My skin was actually hot to the touch. I called my friend Grant and told him what had happened. I was fuming, not just at this stranger’s ridiculous and insensitive comments but at my own reaction to them.

  “You’re always the one telling me that everything happens for a reason,” he counseled me. “Take a deep breath and try and find the reason.”

  I sat waiting for my flight, going over the incident again and again in my mind. Then I started writing. I poured my heart and my fury out onto the paper. And when I reread it, I no longer hated this driver for hating me. I felt sorry for him. And I knew I had to put this story in my book. I called Grant back. “I’m not the first person this has happened to, and I won’t be the last,” I told him.

  But I might be the first to put it out there. To make people aware, so that if they witness injustice and prejudice, they say something. They don’t allow people to be victimized for being different. This goes for not only someone like me (“disabled”) but also people of different races, religions, colors, backgrounds. Nothing burns me more than someone judging others.

  * * *

  My VIPs

  My Uncle: Gary Bricker

  I came to watch Jen play shortstop on her Little League softball team. She took her teammates aside and gave them a pep talk: “Look,” she said, “I know we always lose, but my uncle Gary came all the way from California, and he didn’t come here to see us lose!” I remember watching her round those bases—man, was she moving! She made it all the way to third. Of course, they won. Jen has always been a motivator—and a person who speaks her mind.

  Another time, I was sitting on the sofa and Jen crawled up next to me. She was about six years old, and she kept staring at my argyle socks. “You’re looking at those like you don’t like them very much,” I teased her. She said, “Well, I don’t hate ’em, but I certainly wouldn’t wear ’em!” That was diplomatic!

  She would call me all the time, and we would talk and talk for hours about anything and everything. Her phone bill must have been atrocious! But she always had a lot to say—and so much intelligence for a little girl. No question she would grow up and do great things, none at all.

  * * *

  God is the only Judge. James 4:12 says, “There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you—who are you to judge your neighbor?” I was pretty mad that day, so I wasn’t about to go tossing Scripture at some guy who hated his life, his job, his whatever, and decided to pin it on me. You can’t control what people will do and say; you can only control your own actions. Just know that God is watching. He sees their behavior, and He sees yours.

  Not Such a Small World After All

  After high school, while many of my friends went to college, I decided I would go into the college program at Disney World in Orlando, Florida. At the time, I was still determined to go to fashion school, so this seemed like a great way to get some work experience, make some money, and get out of my tiny little town and assert some independence. I loved my community, but I was outgrowing it. I couldn’t see myself living there for the rest of my life; that felt suffocating to me. I was biding my time at Lincoln Trail College, a community college in Robinson, the next town over, when I happened into a bathroom stall and saw a flyer for the Disney College Program. Interviews were being held at a college about thirty minutes away. I took that as a sign, went on the interview, and two weeks later (which seemed like an eternity) received an acceptance letter in the mail. I was going to Disney World!

  It was a fifteen-hour drive to Orlando, and my brother Bubba and my dad helped me make the move. My parents didn’t stand in my way—they knew I needed to figure out how to be on my own. I was nineteen, and I had never cooked for myself or washed my own laundry! The program was supposed to be from January to May 2007, but after about the first month, I realized I was never moving back to Illinois. I knew from a very young age that I was going to live in a big city—a small town couldn’t hold me. I extended my program until August. It was amazing—there were so many people from countries all over the world. I had never even heard some of the languages being spoken. I worked at Disney’s Hollywood Studios in operations, but the job included a lot of hospitality. I worked parades and made sure people didn’t cross the lines or run out in front of a float. I also worked the Fantasmic! show, loading thousands of people in and out of an area the size of an enormous baseball stadium. During the day, I would help people plan their day, get their bearings. If someone was lost, I pointed them in the right direction. I used to play this game with myself: guess where the guest is from. I got really good at it, just from looking at them. I could tell what country they were from based on their sneakers, their haircut, and how short their shorts were.

  I loved to socialize and was quite the party animal, staying up till 4:00 a.m. every night, hanging out with my fellow students. I never drank, but I did talk . . . and talk . . . and talk. And one night, I met this cute guy with a great smile. We were chatting, dancing, flirting, and he asked if he could walk me out to my car. When we got there, I could tell he was struggling to say something. I was thinking to myself, Dude, spit it out! when he finally did.

  “You’re just . . . ,” he began. “You’re just too pretty not to have legs!”

  I burst out laughing. I almost felt bad for how hard I laughed in his face. He was attracted to me and confused about how to handle the situation and how to verbalize his thoughts. I get it. And I took it as a compliment, not an insult.

  Disney was an eye-opener for me. I guess I had never realized what people outside of my town would think of me. One day when I was greeting guests, a woman came up to me. “Wow, good for you!” she said, practically patting me on the head. “You’ve got a job! You’re out there working!”

  My jaw dropped. I wanted to say, “And what would you expect me to do? Hide in a dark room because I don’t have legs? Dig a hole and crawl into it?” But I held my tongue. I tried to smile politely (I was, after all, working at the happiest place on earth!), and then I wished her a good day. Visitors constantly shared condescending comments—at the very least, I heard a few each day—but I couldn’t say what I was thinking. Disney had some pretty strict rules about how we were supposed to treat guests. “You’re an idiot!” wasn’t in the handbook.

  And I thank them for that. It was a great education for me in how to cool my temper and not take everything so personally. It was also a reality check: Jen, not everyone is going to love and appreciate you like they do back home. I was a stranger there. I looked different from what people view as “normal.” I had to deflect a lot of simpleminded, snarky comments and just let them roll right off my back. People so often speak without thinking.

  A Weight on My Mind

  God knows, I’m not wholly innocent myself. For a time I had a real prejudice against overweight people, and I’m very ashamed to admit it. But it’s something I need to get out in the open because I don’t ever want to portray myself as perfect or a saint—and I don’t want people to think it’s okay to do what I did. The blind assumptions that have been aimed at me I once aimed at others. I used to see people who were overweight as lazy, out of control, and selfish. My reasoning went something like this: If you don’t like how you look, then freaking change it. Don’t whine about it! Don’t tell me you “can’t,” because I don’t buy it. I couldn’t change that I was different; no amount of diet or exercise or self-control was going to change the fact that I didn’t have legs. But the way I viewed it, people who were overweight chose to be that way.

 
Then I started watching a TV show called Drop Dead Diva. In a nutshell, a young, blonde supermodel with a gorgeous, tiny, rockin’ body dies and comes back as a plus-sized lawyer. The character, Jane, first freaks out at what she looks like. But then she grows to realize she is still the same person on the inside. At her new size, she is an extremely powerful and brilliant lawyer. She makes tons of money, has her own assistant, and drives a cool convertible. She dates handsome, intelligent men and has a fulfilling life. She isn’t sad or lazy or less of a human being in any way. Her revelation became mine as I watched the show through all six seasons. Then I discovered the reality show Extreme Weight Loss, and it all clicked. These people were suffering. They had been through tragedies or frustrations in their lives that were overwhelming; being overweight became their armor. Every week I watched and cheered for them. I became emotionally invested in their stories. I rooted for them. It takes a huge amount of courage to face your demons head-on. I envied them—that’s true heroism.

  What I came to realize is that I have no right to criticize anyone. I don’t get to make assumptions based on appearances. I certainly don’t like it when people do it to me and should know better. Everyone—no matter what they look like—deserves God’s love. We all come in different “packages,” and that shouldn’t define us. People are not their circumstances, situations, failures, accomplishments, regrets, or mistakes. They are not their color, their height, their weight. People are people. We all have hearts. We all have emotions and feelings. We all crave love, acceptance, and forgiveness.