Life Without Limits Read online

  Today in my travels around the world, I often see incredible suffering that makes me grateful for what I have and less inclined to focus on what I may lack. I have seen orphaned children with crippling diseases. Young women forced into sexual slavery. Men imprisoned because they were too poor to pay a debt.

  Suffering is universal and often unbelievably cruel, but even in the worst of slums and after the most horrible tragedies, I have been heartened to see people not only surviving but thriving. Joy was certainly not what I expected to find in a place called “Garbage City,” the worst slum at the edge of Cairo, Egypt. The Manshiet Nasser neighborhood is tucked into towering rock cliffs. The unfortunate but accurate nickname and the community’s rank odor come from the fact that most of its fifty thousand residents sustain themselves by combing through Cairo, dragging its garbage there, and picking through it. Each day they sort through mountains of refuse pulled from a city of eighteen million residents, hoping to find objects to sell, recycle, or somehow make use of.

  Amid streets lined with garbage piles, pig pens, and stinking trash, you would expect people to be overcome with despair, yet I found it to be quite the opposite on a visit in 2009. The people there live hard lives, to be sure, but those I met were very caring, seemingly happy, and filled with faith. Egypt is 90 percent Muslim. Garbage City is the only predominantly Christian neighborhood. Nearly 98 percent of the people are Coptic Christians.

  I’ve been to many of the poorest slums in all corners of the world. This was one of the worst as far as the environment, but it was also one of the most heart-warming in spirit. We squeezed nearly 150 people into a very small concrete building that served as their church. As I began speaking, I was struck by the joy and happiness radiating from my audience. They were simply beaming at me. My life has rarely seemed so blessed. I gave thanks that their faith lifted them above their circumstances as I told them how Jesus had changed my life too.

  I spoke with church leaders there about how lives in the village had changed through the power of God. Their hope wasn’t put on this earth, but their hope is in eternity. In the meantime they’ll believe in miracles and thank God for who He is and what He has done. Before we left, we presented some families with rice, tea, and a small amount of cash that would buy them enough food for several weeks. We also distributed sports equipment, soccer balls, and jump ropes to the children. They immediately invited our group to play with them, and we had a ball, laughing and enjoying each other even though we were surrounded by squalor. I will never forget those children and their smiles. It just proved to me again that happiness can come to us under any circumstance if we put our total trust in God.

  How can such impoverished children laugh? How can prisoners sing with joy? They rise above by accepting that certain events are beyond their control and beyond their understanding too, and then focusing instead on what they can understand and control. My parents did just that. They moved forward by deciding to trust in God’s Word that “all things work for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.”

  A FAMILY OF FAITH

  My mum and dad were both born into strong Christian families in the part of the former Yugoslavia now known as Serbia. Their families immigrated separately to Australia while they were young because of Communist repression. Their parents were Apostolic Christians, and their faith included conscientious objection to bearing arms. The Communists discriminated against them and persecuted them for their beliefs. They had to hold services in secret. They suffered financially because they refused to join the Communist Party, which controlled every aspect of life. When my father was young, he often went hungry for that reason.

  Both sets of my grandparents joined many thousands of Serbian Christians who immigrated to Australia and also to the United States and Canada after World War II. My parents’ families moved to Australia, where they and their children could be free to practice their Christian beliefs. Other members of their families moved to the United States and Canada around the same time, so I have many relatives in those countries too.

  My parents met in a Melbourne church. My mum, Dushka, was in her second year of nursing school at the Royal Children’s Hospital in Victoria. My dad, Boris, worked in office administration and cost accounting. He later became a lay pastor in addition to his job. When I was about seven years old, my parents began considering a move to the United States because they felt there might be better access to new prosthetics and medical care to help us deal with my disabilities.

  My uncle Batta Vujicic had a construction and property management business in Agoura Hills just 35 miles outside Los Angeles. Batta always told my father he’d give him a job if he could obtain a work visa. There was a large community of Serbian Christians with several churches around Los Angeles, which also appealed to my parents. My father learned that obtaining a work visa was a long, drawn-out process. He decided to apply, but in the meantime my family moved a thousand miles north to Brisbane, Queensland, where the climate was better for me, as I had allergies along with my other challenges.

  I was approaching ten years old and in my fourth year of elementary school when everything finally fell into place for a move to the United States. My parents felt that my younger siblings—my brother Aaron and sister Michelle—and I were at a good age for assimilating into the United States school system. We waited in Queensland for over eighteen months for Dad’s three-year work visa to be arranged, finally moving in 1994.

  Unfortunately, the move to California did not work out for several reasons. When we left Australia, I had already started sixth grade. My new school in Agoura Hills was very crowded. They could only get me into advanced classes, which was difficult enough, but in addition the curriculums were very different. I’d always been a good student, but I struggled to adapt to the change. Due to different school calendars, I was literally behind before I even started my classes in California. I had a difficult time catching up. The junior high I attended also required students to change classrooms for each subject, which was unlike Australia and added to the challenges of my adjustment.

  We’d moved in with my uncle Batta, his wife Rita, and their six children, which made for a pretty crowded house even though they had a large home in Agoura Hills. We had planned to move into our own home as soon as possible, but home prices were much higher than in Australia. My father worked for Batta’s real estate management company. My mother did not continue her nursing career because her first priority was to get us settled into our new schools and environment, and so she had not applied to become licensed to practice nursing in California.

  After three months of living with Uncle Batta’s family, my parents concluded that the move to the United States just wasn’t working out. I was struggling in school, and my parents had difficulty arranging for my health insurance and overall handling the high cost of living in California. There were also concerns that we might never be able to secure permanent residency in the United States. A lawyer advised my family that my health challenges might make it more difficult to win approval because of possible doubts about my family’s ability to keep up with medical costs and other expenses related to my disabilities.

  With so many factors weighing on them, my parents decided to move back to Brisbane after only four months in the United States. They actually found a house in the same cul-de-sac where we’d lived before the move, so all of us kids could return to our same schools and friends. My dad went back to teaching computing and management in the College of Technical and Further Education. My mum devoted her life to my brother and sister and, mostly, me.

  A CHALLENGING CHILD

  In recent years my parents have been candid in describing their fears and nightmares immediately following my birth. As I was growing up, of course, they did not let on that I was not exactly the child of their dreams. In the months following my arrival, my mum feared she could not look after me. My dad could not see a happy future for me and worried about the kind of life I would have. If I was
helpless and unable to experience life, he felt I would be better off with God. They considered their options, including the possibility of giving me up for adoption. Both sets of my grandparents offered to take me and care for me. My parents declined the offers. They decided it was their responsibility to raise me as best they could.

  They grieved, and then they set about raising their physically challenged son to be as “normal” as he could possibly be. My parents are people of strong faith, and they kept thinking that God must have had some reason for giving them such a son.

  Some injuries heal more quickly if you keep moving. The same is true of setbacks in life. Perhaps you lose your job. A relationship might not work out. Maybe the bills are piling up. Don’t put your life on hold so that you can dwell on the unfairness of past hurts. Look instead for ways to move forward. Maybe there is a better job awaiting you that will be more fulfilling and rewarding. Your relationship may have needed a shake-up, or maybe there is someone better for you. Perhaps your financial challenges will inspire you to find new creative ways to save and build wealth.

  You can’t always control what happens to you. There are some occurrences in life that are not your fault or within your power to stop. The choice you have is either to give up or to keep on striving for a better life. My advice is to know that everything happens for a reason and in the end good will come of it.

  As a child, I just assumed I was a perfectly adorable baby, naturally charming and as lovable as any on earth. My blissful ignorance was a blessing at that age. I didn’t know that I was different or that many challenges awaited me. You see, I don’t think we are ever given more than we can handle. I promise you that for every disability you have, you are blessed with more than enough abilities to overcome your challenges.

  God equipped me with an amazing amount of determination and other gifts too. I soon proved that even without limbs I was athletic and well coordinated. I was all trunk but all baby boy too; a rolling, diving daredevil. I learned to haul myself into an upright position by bracing my forehead against a wall and scooting up it. My mum and dad worked with me for a long time trying to help me master a more comfortable method, but I always insisted on finding my own way.

  My mum tried to help by putting cushions on the floor so I could use them to brace myself and get up, but for some reason I decided it was better just to bash my brow against the wall and inch my way up. Doing tasks my way, even if it was the hard way became my trademark!

  Using my head was my only option in those early days; a fact that developed my massive intellect (kidding!) while also giving me the neck strength of a Brahma bull and a forehead hard as a bullet. My parents worried about me constantly, of course. Parenthood is a shocking experience even with full-bodied babies. New mothers and fathers often joke that they wish their first child came with an operating manual. There was no chapter even in Dr. Spock for babies like me. Yet I stubbornly grew healthier and bolder. I closed in on the “terrible twos” stage, packing more potential parental terrors than a set of octuplets.

  How will he ever feed himself? How will he go to school? Who would take care of him if something happened to us? How will he ever live independently?

  Our human powers of reasoning can be a blessing and a curse. Like my parents, you have probably fretted and worried about the future. Often, though, that which you dread turns out to be far less a problem than you imagined. There is nothing wrong with looking ahead and planning for the future, but know that your worst fears could just as easily prove to be your best surprise. Very often life works out for the good.

  One of the best surprises of my childhood was the control I had over my little left foot. Instinctively I used it to roll myself around, to kick, shove, and brace myself. My parents and doctors felt that the handy little foot might be of greater use. There were two toes, but they were fused together when I was born. My parents and doctors decided that an operation to free the toes might allow me to use them more like fingers to grip a pen, turn a page, or perform other functions.

  We then lived in Melbourne, Australia, which offered some of the best medical care in the country. I did present challenges beyond the training of most health care professionals. At the time when doctors were preparing me for foot surgery, my mum kept emphasizing to them that I ran hot most of the time and that they would have to be especially attentive to the possibility of my body overheating. She knew about another child without limbs who overheated during an operation and was left with brain damage after suffering a brain seizure.

  My self-roasting tendencies prompted an oft-repeated family saying: “When Nicky’s cold, the ducks must be freezing.” Still, it is no joke that if I exercise too much, get stressed out, or stay too long under hot lights, my body temperature will rise dangerously. Avoiding a meltdown is one of the things I have to always be on guard against.

  “Please monitor his temperature carefully,” my mum told the surgical team. Even though the doctors knew my mother was a nurse, they still didn’t take her advice seriously. They managed a successful surgery separating my toes, but what my mum had warned them about came to pass. I emerged from the operating room soaked because they hadn’t taken any precautions for keeping my body from overheating, and when they realized that my temperature was getting out of control, they tried to cool me with wet sheets. They also put buckets of ice on me to avoid a seizure.

  My mum was furious. No doubt the doctors felt the wrath of Dushka!

  Even still, once I chilled out (quite literally), my quality of life received a big boost from my newly freed toes. They didn’t work exactly as the doctors had hoped, but I adapted. It’s amazing what a little foot and a couple of toes can do for a bloke with no arms and no legs. That operation and new technologies liberated me by giving me the power to operate custom-built electronic wheelchairs, a computer, and a cell phone too.

  ——

  I can’t know exactly what your burden is, nor do I pretend that I’ve ever been through a similar crisis, but look at what my parents went through when I was born. Imagine how they felt. Consider how bleak the future must have looked to them.

  You may not be able to see a bright light at the end of your own dark tunnel right now, but know that my parents could not envision what a wonderful life I would have one day. They had no idea that their son would be not only self-sufficient and fully engaged in a career but happy, and full of joyful purpose!

  Most of my parents’ worst fears never materialized. Raising me was certainly not easy, but I think they’ll tell you that for all the challenges, we had plenty of laughter and joy. All things considered, I had an amazingly normal childhood in which I enjoyed tormenting my siblings, Aaron and Michelle, just like all big brothers!

  Life may be kicking you around right now. You may wonder if your fortunes will improve. I’m telling you that you can’t even imagine the good that awaits you if you refuse to give up. Stay focused on your dream. Do whatever it takes to stay in the chase. You have the power to change your circumstances. Go after whatever it is you desire.

  My life is an adventure still being written—and so is yours. Start writing the first chapter now! Fill it with adventure and love and happiness. Live the story as you write it!

  SEARCHING FOR MEANING

  I’ll concede that for a long time I did not believe that I had any power over how my own story would turn out. I struggled to understand what difference I could make in the world or what path I should take. I was convinced while growing up that there was nothing good about my abbreviated body. Sure, I never had to get up from the dinner table because I hadn’t washed my hands, and yes, I’d never known the pain of a stubbed toe, but these few benefits didn’t seem like much consolation.

  My brother and sister and my crazy cousins never let me feel sorry for myself. They never coddled me. They accept me for who I am, yet they also toughened me up with their teasing and pranks so that I could find humor instead of bitterness in my circumstances.

  “Look at that kid
in the wheelchair! He’s an alien,” my cousins would scream across the shopping mall, pointing at me. We all laughed hysterically at the reactions from strangers who had no idea that the kids picking on the disabled boy were really his strongest allies.

  The older I become, the more I realize what a powerful gift it is to be loved like that. Even if at times you feel alone, you should know that you are loved too and recognize that God created you out of love. Therefore you are never alone. His love for you is unconditional. He doesn’t love you if … He loves you always. Remind yourself of that when feelings of loneliness and despair come over you. Remember, those are just feelings. They are not real, but God’s love is so real that He created you to prove it.

  It is important to hold His love in your heart because there will be times when you feel vulnerable. My big family couldn’t always be there to protect me. Once I went off to school, there was no hiding that I was so very different from everyone else. My dad assured me that God didn’t make mistakes, but at times I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the exception to that rule.

  “Why couldn’t You give me just one arm?” I’d ask God. “Think what I could do with one arm!”

  I’m sure you’ve had similar moments when you’ve prayed or simply wished for a dramatic change in your life. There is no reason to panic if your miracle doesn’t arrive, or if your wish doesn’t come true right this minute. Remember, God helps those who help themselves. It’s still up to you to keep striving to serve the highest purpose for your talents and your dreams in the world around you.

  For the longest time I thought that if my body were more “normal,” my life would be a breeze. What I didn’t realize was that I didn’t have to be normal—I just had to be me, my father’s child, carrying out God’s plan. At first I was not willing to confront that what was really wrong with me wasn’t my body, it was the limits I put on myself and my limited vision of the possibilities for my life.