Everything Is Possible

by Jen Bricker

  I met my first real love, Dave, at Camp Illiana, the church camp I mentioned previously, when I was twelve. We barely spoke to each other that first summer, but he wrote me a letter shortly after. I couldn’t remember exactly who he was (there were two Daves at camp), so I didn’t respond. But for some reason, right before camp the next year, I remembered the letter, dug it out, and sent him an email. We agreed we’d meet up in line at registration. He told me he had blond hair and blue eyes, was about six feet tall, and would be wearing a baseball cap.

  I remember waiting in line, glancing to my left, and noticing this cute guy walking by. I did a double take and realized he met the description perfectly. It was Dave! He recognized me and walked back to where I was sitting. The chemistry was instantaneous, and I think I stared a little too long. But I couldn’t help it. He had the biggest smile, a goofy personality, and was an amazing athlete (the first in my pattern of dating athletes). He played basketball and tennis and ran cross-country. Also, like me, he was a hugger.

  We spent that entire first week of camp together—every event, every meal. We sat next to each other in worship, and he was so much taller than I was, which I loved. But I always felt a little weird and embarrassed when everyone else stood up and I couldn’t—it made the words on the screen hard to see. One day he noticed I was uncomfortable and did the sweetest thing: he stayed seated next to me. He never seemed to care what others thought—just that I was happy.

  In only a couple of days, I was full-blown over the moon about him. I knew he was too shy to ever ask me out, so if I wanted things to go anywhere, I was going to have to put on my big-girl panties and just do it! I remember telling one of my friends in the dorm all about him, and she suggested I write him a letter, putting all my thoughts and feelings out there. His letter, after all, had started our whole attraction. What did I have to lose? So I wrote to him. I was 100 percent open and honest with exactly how I felt about him. I told him I loved spending time with him and confessed that my stomach got butterflies whenever he was around. Then I folded up the letter into a small square, wrote his name on top, and gave it to him that night before heading back to my cabin to sleep. This way, I reasoned, he’d have the night to read it, think about it, and then respond in the morning. I was anxious all night, tossing and turning. But I also knew no matter what his response was, not saying anything and always wondering “what if?” would have been worse.

  I was up before everyone the next day and the first one in the shower room. I couldn’t wait to get to the dining hall and find Dave. When I did, he had the biggest smile on his face, with those perfect teeth and adorable dimples. He said he couldn’t believe how honest and bold I was. He never would have had the courage to tell me how he felt, which, it turned out, was exactly the same way I did.

  Just like that, we became an item. Things could not have been more perfect. We were exactly six weeks apart in age (I was older), both just about to turn fourteen, and lived a little more than an hour away from each other. After camp ended, our parents would drive us to see each other every weekend. We met at an Amish barn called Dinky’s Auction Center about fifteen minutes from Dave and about an hour from us. It had a huge wraparound porch with chairs and benches, and we could have a little alone time there. It’s actually the place we shared our first kiss. We had been hanging out for a while, flirting and chatting, and he had his arm around me and was looking into my eyes.

  “And this would be where you kiss me,” I said, teasing him. When he did, it was like the Fourth of July at Disney World—insane fireworks. Our parents soon became good friends, and Janice, his mom, became best friends with my mom, so we’d often go on family trips together. For the longest time, it was “Jen & Dave,” and we were so in love with everything about each other. For my fourteenth birthday, he bought me a gold ring with two diamonds. I was floored and never took it off. He was the first person I slow danced with at a school dance while wearing my prosthetics, looking deeply into his eyes. He told me if I would rather not wear them, he’d dance on his knees! At first I was mortified. “OMG, what are you doing?” But then I finally just caved in and let him do it.

  Dave and I broke up the next year, and to say I was devastated would be a massive understatement. He was my first love, my first dating experience. He was the first boy I ever confessed my love to. It was the kind of love that is so pure and raw and exposed, the way you love before you’ve been hurt or jaded in other relationships. It was the kind of love where you hold nothing back and put every single ounce of your being into it. That was when I realized I didn’t love like most people. I was so young, but I loved with such intensity and depth that when that love was gone, it took part of me with it. If you ask me why we broke up, I can’t really put my finger on one reason. He was always more logical and analytical, the ying to my yang. He was a star athlete all through high school, received a full-ride academic scholarship to college, and landed a great job with the Ford Motor Company before he even graduated.

  Although our romance faded, we maintained a very strong friendship for more than ten years. He was tough to get over. There will never be another Dave in my life, and I will always have a special place in my heart for him and will cherish all the memories we made together.

  Taking Another Chance

  I went out on a lot of dates after Dave and I broke up, but only two or three of those men would I have actually called my boyfriend. My last boyfriend was especially different from the rest. We had a deep emotional connection, but our relationship ended abruptly. I was heartbroken on a new level. It felt as though someone had physically knocked the wind out of me. He was a solid artist and a solid Christian, and we connected on so many levels. After a year of being intensely in each other’s lives, our relationship came crashing down, despite all my prayers to God that He “fix” it. So when it couldn’t be fixed, who did I blame? Not myself, not my ex, but God. I remember saying for the first time, “I am so angry at You, God. Why would You allow this to happen to me?” I prayed for some explanation, but it didn’t come. Most girls break up with a boyfriend and get over it. For me, there was no easy getting over it. Weeks and months passed before I finally realized something: God didn’t owe me an explanation. Sometimes He’s simply protecting us, and we have to trust that there is a lesson to be learned.

  * * *

  My VIPs

  Family Friend (and Dave’s Mom): Janice Henning

  I have known Jen for coming up on fifteen years. Dave came home from church camp and said, “I met the coolest girl.” At that age, Dave wasn’t really into girls so much, so we were quite intrigued.

  “Oh really?” his father and I said. “What is so cool about her?”

  Imagine our surprise when he answered (with all seriousness), “She can beat me at arm wrestling.” That was the start of several wonderful things. These two young teens who had a desire to spend time together brought their families together as well. Sharon, Jen’s mom, and I grew to be best friends, and I got to know Jen and watch her grow into the beautiful young lady she is today.

  Of course, I saw that coming: at thirteen, Jen seemed very confident and very outgoing. She had an “as-a-matter-of-fact” style about her. I did not have much experience dealing with a person with a handicap, and I did not get any experience from Jen because she never acted handicapped. To her, nothing is unattainable. She is thoughtful, intelligent, kind, inspiring, fun-loving, straightforward, humble, considerate, and someone I am delighted to call my friend.

  I am thrilled that she has a special way of reaching people with her amazing story. She is gifted and joyful. To know her is to love her, and I do. To those of you reading this, if you have never had a Jen hug, you are missing out, because her hugs are as warm and delightful as her smile.

  * * *

  A year later, I finally had closure and could see the experience for what it truly was: a test of my faith. God wanted me to continue to grow in love—for Him and for others. I see it as a journey, the same way I view th
e rest of my life. Eventually, I will arrive at where I’m supposed to be. Eventually, I will find a man who is everything I’m looking for. I know I will, because I’ve come very close. My last boyfriend was such a beautiful Christian man. Six foot three, 230 pounds, strong and gentle at the same time. Not only was he respectful and romantic, but at Thanksgiving, he and my mom stood side by side as he helped her wash dishes. Ladies, guys like this do exist.

  So yes, I’m an eternal optimist. I believe love exists for everyone if you’re willing to put yourself out there. If you’re willing to be open, honest, and vulnerable and to lay all the cards on the table, you’ll find it. What is the alternative? To harden your heart and not let someone in? To never take the risk because you fear rejection? If something is worth having, then it’s worth fighting for. I love in a way that I want to be loved. I love with faith that there is someone out there, ready and willing to welcome all I have to offer and also to return my love. I love knowing that when my heart feels broken and depleted, God will fill it up. He will lead me to opportunities and people that build me up again.

  The word love can seem a little cliché. It’s definitely overused and underrated. But don’t doubt its power. I think Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said it best: “Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” I love (pun intended) that quote because, to me, love can tear down all boundaries, all enemies, all walls. It can heal a heart that refuses to be open to anyone or anything. It’s very easy to love someone when they love you back. But the real test of character comes from loving someone who seems “unlovable,” showing them kindness when they’re not capable of doing the same because they’re hurt, insecure, or afraid. When you respond to that person with support and compassion, you are allowing them to feel what it’s like to be accepted, respected, embraced. You change lives. You bring someone closer to God because He is love.

  Where Love Began

  I think my philosophy about love comes from a variety of places. My parents taught me what love is, not just through their words but through their actions. Nothing I could have done or said would have made them stop loving me. They might have been disappointed and had to discipline me, but I knew at the end of the day that their love was unwavering.

  For a kid who fought back tears at all costs, I was actually extremely sensitive and empathetic. I could never watch Bambi, The Fox and the Hound, or All Dogs Go to Heaven because the animals dying in those animated movies was just too overwhelmingly sad for me to handle.

  “Jennifer, it’s a cartoon,” my brothers would tease me. But it didn’t matter. I would mentally put myself right in Bambi’s place and could not (still cannot) bear to see his mama die in the woods. Just thinking about it, I get all choked up!

  My dad liked to watch the Discovery Channel’s wildlife stories—the ones where the animals hunt and kill each other, survival of the fittest. While my brothers gathered around the TV, mesmerized, I couldn’t be in the same room.

  My parents were empathetic as well, but more so regarding people as opposed to mountain lions and animated deer. I remember once when a story came on the news about a family losing their home in a fire on Christmas. My family and I were all watching together, and a sad silence fell over our living room before my mom let out an anguished sigh. Our hearts went out to them, and we felt their pain in such a powerful, palpable way.

  So in the Bricker house, my heart was encouraged to grow and grow. Animals weren’t the only objects of my affection. There was Mikey, my large baby troll with vibrant blue hair and a jewel in his belly button. Mikey had a whole wardrobe of clothes that I kept clean and unwrinkled. I combed his hair so it was out of his eyes. I carried him with me everywhere (otherwise he’d be lonely) and insisted he sit at the dinner table and be part of the family discussion. My parents didn’t discourage me—they thought it was wonderful that I could care so much. They were thrilled that I naturally had compassion for the world around me and all who inhabit it.

  To this day, my friends will tease me. “Jen, you’re all about strength, but you’re really such a softie.” I am, and I’m proud of that fact. Sometimes I can feel another person’s pain as clearly as if it were my own. It’s something I remind myself to be conscious of. My dad would call it “taking a walk in someone’s shoes.” We’re so busy in our daily lives, caught up in our to-do lists and personal agendas, that it’s easy to become jaded, self-absorbed, or uncaring. But compassion is something to practice every day. It moves mountains. It erases anger, resentment, and prejudice, and it brings peace and forgiveness. It plants the seeds of change. It’s right there in the Bible in Galatians 6:2, which reads, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Acknowledging a person’s feelings is one of the most beautiful things you can do for another soul. Truly, it’s simple to say, “I hear you. I see what you’re going through. I’m sorry.” The first step in healing someone’s pain and suffering is being present. Some people think showing sympathy makes you weaker, but the opposite is true. It makes you stronger and wiser, and allows you to fully realize the deep connection that exists between all people, regardless of who they are or where they come from.

  Be Grateful

  Gratitude is another way to show love. I’m not suggesting you go out and buy flowers and candy for everyone who’s ever been nice to you. Simply tell them, “I appreciate that you’re in my life.” Case in point: my friend Courtney Grant. That’s his name, but my family and I call him Grant. Grant came into my life in 2008, while I was living in Orlando. My roommate and I needed a third roommate in our apartment, and he was it. We instantly clicked. I was twenty and he was nineteen. We were both just starting our careers—he was modeling and I was performing. Just two young, broke “kids” trying to live our dreams. I knew I could always count on him. He’s a hard worker and a survivor, and God put us together for many reasons. I was able to give him the love he never had growing up, and he in return gave me a solid, lasting friendship.

  I remember our first Thanksgiving together—we knew with our limited income it would be sparse. I never liked to tell my parents when I needed money because I didn’t want to burden or worry them. But Grant knew I’d be bummed if we didn’t do something traditional.

  I came home that Thanksgiving evening after work to find a note on the door. It read:

  Turkey—$15

  Sweet potatoes—$5

  Cranberries—$3

  Pumpkin pie—$6

  The look on your face when you open the door—Priceless!

  I opened the door to find that Grant had moved our kitchen table into the middle of the living room. The lights were dim, candles were lit, and there was an entire Thanksgiving feast laid out just for us. I will never in my life forget that moment, and I will never forget that it came on Thanksgiving, a time when we show our gratitude and give thanks. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

  Grant moved to LA a year after I did to pursue his modeling/acting career. I already had an apartment for us, ready and waiting. Since we first met, we’ve been penniless, lived together in two different states, and wanted to strangle each other on more than one occasion. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve been through serious highs and lows with our bodies, our careers, our relationships. I know at the end of the day, if anything were to go wrong for me, Grant would be there in a heartbeat.

  This book lets me show my gratitude to so many people who have been there for me in a big, 200-plus-page kind of way. But it doesn’t have to be that wordy! A simple thank-you will suffice. Count your blessings—that’s gratitude to God. I find that when I do, my perspective shifts from me, me, me and what I’m lacking to all the abundance He’s already shown me. When you’re ambitious (guilty as charged!), it’s a tricky road to walk. You want things, you desire things, you are driven to achieve things. Ambition is good—it fuels your passion and your purpose. But it’s not everything. It’s important to take stock of all the good in your life right here, right now. You can do it in a jou
rnal or in a prayer. You can do it in a simple phone call or by sending an email or text. When you do, there’s an instant lift in your life and your way of thinking. You’ll feel happier, healthier, and more optimistic when you take the time to be grateful.

  God Heals the Heart

  Romantic love is not for the weak of heart. It’s not a matter of if you get hurt but a matter of when. Scientists actually say the pain we experience emotionally when a heart breaks is as strong as physical pain. So why do we put ourselves through it? Because we’re human. Because we crave someone to come home to, to confide in, to nurture, to wake up with, and to share our deepest secrets and dreams with. Because in every loss, there is also a gain. People often tell me they’ve given up on love, and I remind them that God makes beauty out of ashes. It’s what He’s in the business of doing. I believe that true, pure love is attainable. I believe someone is out there who will be loyal and dependable, and who will fight for me. He will be my warrior and my rock, my lover and my best friend. Maybe I’m naive, but I think love is magical. It’s one of the most powerful things you can experience here on this earth. The more we understand God and His love, the deeper we can love others. I don’t think humans ever reach a “love limit.” You have to hold out for the person you are head over heels for, all cylinders firing. You have to have faith that it is not only possible, but it’s also what God wants for you.

  I have tried several times in my life to reopen doors that God has closed. I can almost hear Him telling me, “Jen, this guy is not meant for you. Stop trying to get him back.” It’s an unhealthy cycle, I know. But I’ve had to go through it to realize that God knows the beginning, the middle, and the end—even if I don’t. He loves me through all things, including my failures, my faults, and my heartbreaks. Psalm 147:3 tells us, “[God] heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” And David knew that “the LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18). God wants us to take comfort in knowing that heartache is temporary—He’s on it! What He has in store for us is much better than we could ever imagine.