by Jen Bricker
Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we should walk in them” (NASB). I believe this. I believe God made me the way I am so I could get people’s attention, so I could spread His Word and make a difference in some small way in the world. It was no accident—not fate or chance or circumstance. God doesn’t make mistakes. He has a particular plan in mind for each and every one of us. Knowing that empowers me and helps me embrace my calling.
A lot of people tell me, “Good for you, Jen. You know your calling. I don’t have one.” I say you do, and even if you have no idea what it is just yet, God does. Some people are born knowing what their calling is, while others need to discover it over time. It may not be revealed to you overnight or even for several weeks, months, or years, but it’s there. You may have many callings in your life—some big, some small—but they all are important. They’re helping you become the person God intended you to be. Try, fail, and try again. Be okay with not knowing what you’re doing. Be okay with looking silly or feeling awkward. Be okay with putting your trust in God and knowing He’ll always be there for you. It’s like having your own personal cheering section always chanting, “You can do this!”
Need inspiration? Think about what makes you smile, laugh, feel exhilarated. What would make you want to leap out of bed in the morning and start your day? What would get you off the couch? Think about it: Where do your heart and your happiness lie? Maybe it’s something you loved doing as a kid. Maybe it’s a hobby. Try to embrace it. Don’t worry if it’s not the same passion your friends or family have. God meant for you to be yourself. He gave you your own unique gifts. Who wants the same wrapping paper on all the presents under the tree? Not me! I want diversity—different bows, a variety of sparkles, and many colors. If we all had the same passions, the world would be pretty boring and dull. When you do what you love, you are fulfilling not only your own needs and desires but also God’s plan for your life. That’s a win-win situation across the board!
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CHAPTER SIX
Breaking Down Walls
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Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.
—Joshua 1:9
The first rule of tumbling is that you need to stick the landing: feet together, standing strong and tall without wavering or taking a step. Of course, this was virtually impossible for me. My body automatically “bounces” as I complete a tumble. I needed to figure it out: How could I stick my landing and not get points deducted from my score? My coaches and parents considered talking to the judges and agreeing on some kind of special allowance. But I was determined: no special treatment. I would do the same thing that every other gymnast in my competition category did. We came up with this way for me to sort of “sink down” at the end of the routine and hold that position—my version of sticking it. It required the same strength and concentration as someone holding their legs firm, so it met the criteria.
No matter what sport I competed in, I always determined that to win a medal or a trophy, I had to earn it. I put in the same blood, sweat, and tears as everyone else competing, and no exceptions were made. Did it hold me back from advancing? Maybe. But to me, that was better than someone accusing me of having an unfair advantage (a few competitors did that anyway). It was never about the actual win for me; it was about proving that nothing is impossible.
My coaches saw I was a talented power tumbler. I had a natural sense of body and air awareness. And I was strong! I had defined biceps and triceps from the time I was five years old. About a month into fourth grade, Beth asked me to start competing on the gymnastics team. Fancy leotards with sparkly stripes down the arms! Team jackets! I was so excited to be part of this world. During competition season, my team would drive every weekend to a different city or state for a meet. I would do two different “passes” utilizing different skills, such as half twists, backflips, tucks, and round offs.
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My VIPs
One of My First LA Friends: Valerie Remy-Milora
I met Jen shortly after she moved to LA, and she immediately became family. Over the last few years, I’ve been blessed to witness the beautiful ways in which Jen touches everyone around her.
I first witnessed this with my youngest daughter, Sabrina. She was a little over two when Jen came into our lives. My daughter was delighted to meet an adult who was her size and loved to laugh and play as much as she did. When they first met, they talked for hours: laughing, riding in Jen’s chair, just having a wonderful time together. Sabrina had all sorts of questions, and Jen answered every one of them with a smile.
On the way home, Sabrina sat quietly for a while before thoughtfully announcing, “Mom, I want to be like Jen. I want to cut my legs off!” My heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath, pondering how I would answer, and then I realized the infinite wisdom of this precious child. Sabrina wanted what Jen had—she wanted her passion, her joy, her love of God, and her love of life! She wanted to dream big and live a life filled with one awesome adventure after another. She was a child who saw no obstacles because Jen did not show her any.
And that is one of the greatest gifts Jen shares with all of us: she gives each one of us the opportunity to be like children again, to look at the world around us as a place filled with wonder and exciting opportunities. To anticipate each day and know that something special is going to happen—today, tomorrow, and the day after that. And to believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that everything truly is possible. That is the most beautiful and priceless gift anyone can receive!
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When I showed up at a meet, people would, of course, notice that I didn’t have legs—and I don’t think they understood I’d be competing. How could I? But after a few meets, I became known not just for my lack of legs but for my skills and sociability. I was always friendly and curious. I wanted to know where the other competitors were from, what their team colors were, their favorite moves. I was always full of questions about everyone’s life!
When I participated in the Illinois power tumbling championship, I competed against competitors with legs. No one without legs had ever made it so far. One of the news media outlets said I was forging new ground as the first “handicapped” person to compete. I never thought of it that way though. I was simply doing what I loved to do, following my passion as far as it would take me. I see now that God put me here on earth to pave the way for many different people. I think He proves numerous points and busts countless stereotypes through me. But I wasn’t conscious of this for a long time, especially not when I was a kid. I went all the way to the AAU Junior Olympics, where I placed fourth all-around in my division. For me, competing fueled my fire—not the idea of being “the first” in anything.
Breaking the Rules
God’s path for me has been filled with obstacles and roadblocks. I’d be lying if I told you I’ve tackled each one with grace. Some have tried me to the point of fury and exhaustion. Some still do. Because of who I am, how I look, how people perceive me to be, I know there will always be walls to break down. I learned that lesson very young. When I was in fifth grade, my parents took me to a theme park about an hour and a half away from our house. I was so excited! Everyone in my family was a roller-coaster junkie, and I’d never been on one. I’d been waiting and waiting for that day. We piled into our car and took my friend Kara along. When I remember the day, it’s as if I’m watching it play back in slow motion: getting out of the car and rolling up to the ticket booth in my wheelchair, then climbing out and strapping myself into this pendulum-like ride that pitched you around in a circle.
I pulled down the harness and watched the guy running the ride watching me. I saw a look of panic in his eyes. Then he got on his radio and called someone else over—his supervisor or a park manager. They whispered, they stared at me, they whispered some more. At this point, since the ride w
as going nowhere, I had a hunch I was the cause of the holdup.
“I’m sorry,” he said, walking over to my row of seats. Kara and my entire family were strapped in next to me. “You have to be a certain height to ride this ride.”
Translation: “get off.” I get that the guy was doing his job and following the park rules, but the rules were wrong. To make matters worse, I had to make my way back through a long maze of people waiting in line. I felt as if each one was looking on me with pity.
My parents exploded. They were livid, more livid than I’ve ever seen them in my life. “How dare you!” my dad said, getting right in the guy’s face. I was afraid he was going to punch him, but I was so upset that I didn’t want to hold him back. “Are you kidding me?” he shouted at the employee. “You don’t know who you’re talkin’ to!”
We were now all making a huge scene. But no matter how hard any of us argued, pleaded, sobbed, there was no budging the park staff. They offered to let my family and Kara ride—just not me.
This made my dad even more furious: “What is she supposed to do?” he screamed at them. “Sit there and watch us?”
In the end, they gave us back our money, and we left in a huff. The only rides they would allow me to go on were the ones for toddlers. I couldn’t even go down a waterslide.
“They don’t know you,” my father tried to reassure me. “They don’t know how strong you are and what you can do—or they’d know how ridiculous these rules are.”
I sat silently in the backseat, trying not to cry. My mom was doing a good enough job for both of us. I was just so disappointed and stunned. All my life, I’d never accepted the word can’t. Now here was someone telling me “you can’t,” and there was nothing any of us could do about it. It shook me to my core. Had my parents been wrong all along? Were there some things in my life that I would never be able to do?
The way my parents handled it next was spectacular. We could have sued. We could have alerted the media and made a huge stink. We could have played the handicapped card. Instead, my mom got on the phone with our state representative and told him, “There are laws that are wrong, and we need to do something about them.” She called OSHA, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration. Then she got on the phone with theme park after theme park, educating them. In order to meet the height requirement for a ride, I would have to strap on prosthetics that would not be safe on a high-speed thrill ride. The safety belt would hold me just fine at the height I was at, and if they were so worried, they could add a second harness to reinforce it. I wasn’t the only one missing limbs who wanted to ride a coaster. Why should anyone have to miss out?
Fast-forward about a year later, and we were all welcomed at Indiana Beach Boardwalk Resort amusement park. My mom had reached out to the owner, and he personally escorted me into the park and onto my very first roller coaster. I screamed with joy and rode every terrifying ride to my heart’s desire. But not every amusement park is this way. To be honest, most aren’t. I write this in the hopes that others will educate themselves and voice their objections to rules that don’t apply to all people equally.
Every time I go to a theme park, it gives me anxiety, which is so ironic. Isn’t it supposed to be a place where people cut loose and have fun? For me, it’s a stressful mental and emotional exercise. I have to arm myself with patience. I have to be the bigger person and swallow my pride every single time. I also have to use my knowledge rather than lose my temper. I understand why the laws were made and how they work, more than any park manager, owner, or employee.
Not too long ago, a manager at a major theme park proceeded to explain to me why medically I couldn’t go on a ride. “It will be impossible for you to hold yourself on the ride,” he said, trying to sound very astute. “It has to do with your balance and equilibrium.”
I took a deep breath. Dude, you better stop talking. You have no idea what you’re talking about. I wasn’t even going to waste my time and tell him that I can “balance” and “hold” myself thirty feet in the air from a silk just fine, thank you. I spin at lightning speed during my performances, and my equilibrium is just dandy!
Instead, I marched right past him, into guest services, and phoned OSHA. They set him—and everyone else who worked in the park—straight. After two hours, the staff escorted me back to the front of the line, and I got on the ride. A lot of time was wasted when I could have been enjoying the park instead of arguing with the staff, but I won. Unfortunately, I always have to be prepared for a fight—the intellectual kind. And it can be exhausting, but it’s well worth it. I’m fighting not just for me but for everyone who has been told “you can’t.” Common sense is gone because people are so afraid of being held liable.
I think back to that day in fifth grade and realize my dad could have simply said, “Jennifer, the man said no, so no it is.” Plenty of my friends grew up being told “rules are rules” and not to challenge authority. But that’s not how my parents raised me. I was raised to be fierce, to fight the good fight nobly and with conviction. Today you may not win; tomorrow you may not win. But down the road will be one small victory that can change everything.
BELIEVE IT!
You Need the Right Team to Support Your Dream
I have a fantastic support team of family, and friends I consider family, who would do anything for me. My team is essential. I depend on these people to lift me up, give me wise advice, and even slap me upside my head if I need a little wake-up call! This group includes my parents, my brothers, my sisters, my friends Garry and Jason Clemmons (identical twins), Grant, Krine, my old roommate Cody, and my friend Hunter Allen. Hunter is an extremely calming person, and it’s okay for me to be a mess, a wreck, not perfect around him.
Seek out these types! Look for people who have your best interests (as opposed to theirs) at heart. Friends who understand your hopes, dreams, and goals and will do whatever it takes to help you reach them. Fill your life with folks who make you want to be a better person. People with big, kind hearts and strong moral character. Choose people who push you. By this, I mean those who don’t let you sit back on your laurels or get lazy. Instead, they empower you and remind you to take chances, try new things, venture out of your comfort zone. And finally, surround yourself with positive people. No naggers, worriers, or Negative Nellies. Choose people who see the glass as half full and encourage you to do the same. Whenever I am down, I immediately call or text someone like this, and they can point out the good in any bad situation. It’s hard to be depressed or angry when you have someone assuring you that this too shall pass, and if it doesn’t, there’s always Netflix and ice cream.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
Secret Sisters
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A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.
—John 13:34 (ESV)
A lot has been made of the story of how I reached out to my sister, Olympic gymnast Dominique Moceanu, and told her I was her long-lost sister. She wrote about it in her memoir. We talked about it in newspapers and magazines and TV interviews. But it’s really just half the story. To me, the most important half is what came after that initial meeting: how my relationship with both my sisters and my biological mother has evolved. The story isn’t over, because we’re just finding our way in one another’s lives.
I always knew I was adopted, and that fact didn’t trouble me much. My parents knew eventually one day I’d get curious and start digging, but they hoped it would come later rather than sooner. My adoption was supposed to be closed; I wasn’t even supposed to know who my birth parents were. But God was working overtime. He made sure that the social worker made a clerical error and gave my parents all that information. He knew one day I would need to reach out to Dominique.
That day came when I was sixteen. My friend Kassi was adopted and had found out her biological last name. It seemed so cool and mysterious—a piece to a puzzle. Could I find out mi
ne? What would that reveal about me? I had never been curious about it before, never had any reason to think my parents were holding anything back. But God put the idea in my mind. It was time.
“So,” I said to begin the conversation with my mom. “Do you know what my last name was when I was born? Do you know anything about my birth parents?”
Her reaction was kind of like Hold that thought! as she went to call my dad and ask him what to tell me. Should she wait until he got home from work? Should they tell me at all when I was still so young? He told her not to keep me waiting any longer—so she didn’t. She pulled out a manila envelope filled with papers.
“Now, Jennifer,” she began. “You’re never gonna believe this.” She laid out on the table all the documents she’d kept. “Your biological last name is Moceanu.”
I knew. I just knew. On some level, I had always known. I think she was waiting for me to have a reaction but I didn’t. On the outside I must have seemed eerily calm, but inside I was freaking out. “Dominique’s my sister.” It was a statement, not a question. It all made sense now. My parents, of course, had put two and two together several years ago. While watching the Olympics with me, they saw the fourteen-year-old gymnast I was fixated on—and the names of her parents, who were watching in the audience. My mom had seen their signatures on my adoption papers. She knew at that moment my idol was also my sister.