Chapter 17

Is Anything the Same?

Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.

PHILIPPIANS 3:13-14

God, whether I get anything else done today, I want to make sure that I spend time loving You and loving others because that is what life is all about. I don’t want to waste this day!

Written on Jen’s homework pad, two days before the crash

God had given Jen her own special place in His world. And along with reminding me how extraordinary Jen was, He reminded me that she lived according to her unique set of standards and not the world’s. I’m ashamed to admit that I worried about what strangers out in public thought of Jen because she was so uninhibited, almost boisterous. She still laughed uncontrollably at times. She heard music in the mall and suddenly started dancing. In church, she answered the altar call week after week.

When I confessed to the Lord that sometimes I was still consumed with the idea of Jen getting back to “normal,” He again challenged me: Why do you want Jen to be normal when I have set her apart to be extraordinary and to walk in the miraculous with me?

Why was I chasing after my limited, shortsighted goals instead of the ones an all-knowing, all-loving God had in store for me? Why did I wake up anxious and worried in the middle of the night? Where was my faith? Why couldn’t I trust God like Jennifer trusted Him? I had to try. The next time I woke up with my nerves in a knot I started singing a praise song—and it worked! It made me focus on God instead of on me and my problems.

Months later during a walk, Jen put words to my thoughts when she said out of the blue, “God is speaking to my heart, and for every door that closes, He will open up three more. They will just be different.” She didn’t care what anyone thought about her. She only cared about her audience of one, her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and about proclaiming His hope out loud to a broken and needy world.

Awkward as they could be, Jen’s unguarded reactions could also be tender and precious. One Sunday after church our family went out with some friends for pizza. Jen heard the background music in the restaurant and wanted her father to waltz with her like she’d seen in a movie. She pulled Andy up to dance as we all looked on. At first I cringed in embarrassment to see them waltzing around the salad bar, wondering what the other customers must be thinking, but I didn’t ask them to stop. Andy couldn’t have cared less what anybody else around them thought. He was enthralled by Jen and accepted her just as she was. He never tired of her or got upset. If she was being silly, he acted silly right along with her. His fatherly love for Jen reminded me of God’s grace.

As I watched them dancing around the restaurant, I saw the joy on their faces, both of them glowing and laughing, completely unaware of everyone else in the room. The next thing I knew, tears were streaming down my face as I realized what a beautiful picture it was of how our heavenly Father loves each one of us. He is never embarrassed by us. He loves us unconditionally just as we are. There is nothing we can do to make God love us any less or any more than He does at this very moment. This same powerful, life-changing lesson is what Jen teaches everyone she meets.

Two years after the accident, we went back to UVA for a doctor’s appointment. Entering the medical building, we found it sobering to see so many children with brain injuries who would never walk again. Some had severe trauma and disfigurements. Jen looked at them with compassion, overwhelmed with the realization that she could have been in that shape—or worse. It was a startling reminder of how much God had healed Jen and how far she had come. She was functioning at a level all the experts had once thought would be impossible, surpassing even their most optimistic hopes. Yet she still had a long way to go.

We were there to see Dr. Peter Patrick, the psychologist who had told us, just before Jen went home, that we were in a marathon. He had worked with brain-injured patients for more than thirty years.

Dr. Patrick asked Jen about her everyday life and how things were different. He understood that Jen had lost so much: she couldn’t drive a car, her personality was completely different, she still had headaches every day, she couldn’t play soccer or cheer like she once did.

Abruptly he asked Jen, “Is there anything that is the same as before the accident?”

After pondering a few seconds, Jen smiled and replied, “My love relationship with the Lord. It’s stronger than ever!”

That answer was a big reminder to me that no matter what happens in this life, the one thing that can never be taken away is our salvation and love relationship with the Lord.

Then Dr. Patrick asked Jen, “What if you don’t heal any more than you are today?”

All of a sudden, Jen turned a little feisty and said, “That is never going to happen! My God can do anything, and He is healing me every day.”

Dr. Patrick chuckled and said, “Good, that is exactly what I wanted to hear—that you still have hope.”

Evidence of that hope and her faith in God’s plan for her life poured out of Jen constantly, sometimes in unexpected ways. One day in church we were singing “You Are God Alone,” a song made popular by Phillips, Craig & Dean. All of a sudden Jen almost knocked me over in her excitement to start doing sign language for the lyrics. She had learned the signs at cheer camp before the accident. Now, with no filters or self-consciousness about what anyone sitting around her might think, she was beaming from ear to ear as she executed each hand motion perfectly:

Unchangeable, unshakable, unstoppable,

That’s what You are.

You are God alone!11

About a month later Jen and I spoke at a mother/daughter banquet where one of the ladies in the audience was deaf. Moments before we were supposed to go onstage, Jen leaned over and whispered, “Go get the ‘You Are God Alone’ CD out of the car. God is telling me to do the sign language tonight for that precious lady.”

I had learned from past experience that when God was speaking to Jen, I’d better listen. After we spoke I started the CD. Jen stood in the spotlight, and as the music began, her joy was unmistakable. The presence of God was just shining out from her. She was having the time of her life worshiping and praising Him. It reminded me of the times she would sing to CDs in the hospital, completely oblivious to anyone else in the room: she was worshiping for an audience of one.

God moved in many hearts that night. By the time we got home I had an e-mail from the daughter of the deaf woman: “My mother wept the whole way home from the banquet tonight. . . . She said that never before had someone spoken so beautifully in her language, and it thrilled her heart to know that God did that just for her. My mother kept repeating, ‘God knows my language!’ Jen, please don’t ever stop proclaiming Christ.”

Since that night Jen has signed “You Are God Alone” hundreds of times at various speaking venues. Whenever she does, her face radiates joy as if she’s worshiping at the feet of Jesus.

August 2009 marked another miracle, another new beginning in the life of Jen Barrick, when she started college at Liberty University. I went with her the first week until we could find a friend in each class to help her take notes and go from one class to the next. She enrolled in two classes: an Old Testament survey class taught by Papa Ed and a women’s ministry class. I knew she could handle the OT curriculum because her Bible knowledge was completely intact. She probably knew as much Scripture as anybody else in the room. But the women’s ministry class presented another level of responsibility and pressure.

The first day of class, the women’s ministry teacher went through all of the exams, the required reading, and the papers the students had to write. I was completely overwhelmed at the thought of Jen tackling this course. She could write now, but slowly. Because her vision was so poor, she could barely read. And it took her forever to memorize new information. I knew I would need to devote many hours to helping her read, do research for her papers, and study for tests. As soon as the class ended, I shot Jen a worried look and said, “There’s no way we can pass this class.”

“Mom, where is your faith?” she demanded, almost bristling. “God always enables me to do what He asks me to do.”

As the semester got underway, stories from the classroom proved Jen right. A friend who helped her in class said, “Mrs. Barrick, when Jen talks in class, it is amazing! Everyone turns around and listens. The students respect her, and she has so much wisdom.”

I waited for Jen after school every day because it was too dangerous for her to walk in a parking lot or across campus alone. With her limited vision, she could easily be hit by a car. One day Jen was so excited when she came out to meet me.

“Mom, you would be so proud of me,” she said. “I said something really good in class today, and the teacher was amazed. It was on topic and it made sense and everything.”

I could hardly wait to hear this inspired nugget of wisdom. “What did you say?”

“Well, I can’t remember—but it was really good, and the teacher was so impressed. It had to be the Lord!”

My college coed was still the unpredictable, tell-it-like-it-is young lady I’d become used to. Another day she said, “You would be so proud of me! We prayed for you in my class today.”

“You did? Why?”

“It was prayer request time, and I raised my hand and said, ‘Please pray for my mom because she is really stressed.’ And the teacher said, ‘Oh, yes, we need to pray for your mom.’”

The truth was that I was really struggling and stressed about something, but in my pride I didn’t want Jen’s whole class to know about it, especially her teacher. I should have known long before then that if you spend much time around Jennifer Barrick, the truth in your life will come out.

And of course, on the question of whether she could pass the class, Jen was right as usual. She got an A.

Meanwhile Andy was going through a transition of his own. His job at LU required a lot of travel, and Andy wanted to spend more time at home. So he went back to work with his good friend Dr. Tim Clinton as director of member relations for the American Association of Christian Counselors (AACC).

This led to an opportunity for Jen and me to attend the AACC World Conference in Nashville in September 2009. That was where we first had the privilege of meeting Joni Eareckson Tada. While Jen had always admired Joni’s faith, courage, and perseverance, Joni became even more of a hero to Jen after her brain injury. Though paralyzed from the shoulders down by a diving accident when she was a teenager, Joni has inspired millions with her books, daily radio program, and more than thirty years of Christian ministry to the disabled around the world. Jen saw a kindred spirit in this brave and faithful woman who has lived her life as an encouragement to others and a testament to God’s goodness.

Andy arranged for Jen and me to watch Joni on the big TV screen backstage in the speakers’ greenroom, away from the noise and commotion. When we went in, we saw Joni across the room preparing to go on but didn’t want to bother her.

Tim’s daughter, Megan, was Jen’s friend who had stood beside her during the choir concert the night of the accident. She saw us there and said, “Don’t you want to meet Joni?”

“Yes!” Jen exclaimed, and Megan took us over and introduced us.

Immediately Joni and Jen had a special heart connection. They both knew what it was like to be in pain and totally desperate for God, completely dependent on Him every day. As they talked, Jen asked Joni how she could pray for her.

Joni said, “Well, Jen, I’m getting ready to go onstage and speak, and I’m having trouble breathing. Would you pray over me right now that God will give me the strength and help me breathe?”

We all circled around Joni and held hands as Jen prayed. God gave her the exact words that Joni needed to hear. I can’t remember what they were, but I know we were all in tears by the time the prayer was over. We could feel the presence of God. Jen looked at Joni and said, “God wants me to tell you that you are so beautiful!”

While Joni was speaking, Jen whispered in my ear that God was telling her we should give Miss Joni one of her Miracle for Jen DVDs, which shows Jen singing in the chior the night of the wreck and tells Jen’s story in a breathtaking way. “I think it will encourage her,” Jen said. Once again I knew if God was speaking to Jen I had better listen, so I went back to our hotel room in the conference center and got a DVD. I was able to hand it to Joni’s assistant.

One week later, Jen received a wonderful letter from Joni. “Jen—the Lord has blessed you with a powerful ministry; I know that because of the way He encouraged me through you during our brief time together backstage at the recent AACC conference. I pray every blessing of Psalm 20 over you, asking God to bring much fruit for the Kingdom out of all your hardships.”

Later we planned a trip to the Joni and Friends International Disability Center in California. Jen had clearly made quite an impression. “Aside from a few obvious signs of brain injury, I couldn’t help but get a spiritual suntan in her presence,” Joni said in the e-mail confirming our visit. So Andy, Jen, and I started preparing for a trip out west in March.

It almost didn’t happen.

On February 3, 2010, Andy and I dropped Josh off at the movie theater with a group of friends and decided to take Jen on a date. We headed over to one of our favorite restaurants, Shakers, to get our usual cheddar chicken grill sandwich. Andy and I sat side by side, with Jen across from us. When she finished eating, she started to tell us how much she loved us and how she appreciated all the things we had taught her and how she wanted to be just like us. She continued to embellish the thought over and over, as she often did, using different words to say the same thing.

The first sign of trouble was a sudden, ominous quiet. Jen abruptly stopped talking, as if someone had turned off a radio in midsentence. Her head jerked up. She stared vacantly at the far corner of the room. Then a horrible, earsplitting shriek welled up from deep inside her, shattering the silence and sending chills up and down my spine.

I stood and tried to grab her from across the table. Andy jumped over to her side and caught her as she fell to the ground. Her whole body clenched up, and her eyes rolled back into her head. It took all of Andy’s strength to hold on to her head to keep her from knocking it against the floor. There was devastation in Andy’s eyes: his daughter might be dying in his arms. A nurse who happened to be in the restaurant ran over and told us that Jen was having a seizure.

The restaurant manager called 911, and an ambulance arrived within minutes. As the EMTs tried to get Jen onto the stretcher, she became very combative. She didn’t know who anybody was, not even us. I felt sick to my stomach and gripped by fear. Have we lost everything we worked so hard to gain? It felt like déjà vu; this was how Jen acted when she was emerging from the coma. Andy helped calm Jen down in the back of the ambulance while I sat up front with the driver. Could we be starting all over? God, don’t let that happen!

An hour later in the hospital, it was like nothing had ever happened. Jen seemed to be acting like her sweet self again. However, I noticed that she kept asking the nurses the same questions over and over. Fear flooded over me as I realized that all of her short-term memory was gone once more. Lord, please don’t let Jen lose her memory again. She’s come so far.

Andy and I spent a long night at the hospital, praying continually in our hearts for God to help us. By daybreak the doctors could tell us that though Jen was exhausted, there was no permanent damage from the seizure. They reminded us that seizures were actually pretty common with a brain injury as severe as Jen’s and that she could have another one at any time. In fact, she had been on seizure medication in the hospital, but since she’d never had one, it was discontinued before she came home. We had let the possibility of seizures slip to the back of our minds, crowded out by day-to-day struggles and successes.

This was our reminder that we had to be diligent—had to expect the unexpected—from now on. It was a refresher course for us: living with a brain-injured loved one is a lifelong journey. Once again, we were back to relying on God, one day at a time.

There are times when I don’t see how I can gather the strength to do this for the rest of my life. That’s when Jen reminds me, “Mom, we were chosen for this journey. God handpicked us. And He isn’t finished yet.”

Jen felt fine as the time approached to visit Joni and Friends. A week before we flew to California, Joni sent an e-mail asking if Joni and Friends could do a TV show on Jennifer’s story to inspire and encourage others.12 We were blown away with the honor. Only God could have orchestrated an opportunity like this one. We quickly replied that Jennifer would gladly speak and be on camera, but I would have to speak with her and ask her questions.

When we arrived at the center for Joni and Friends on March 5, Joni was waiting for us at the front door. Her first words to Jen were, “Give me a hug!” Our first stop in the beautiful new headquarters building was a chapel, where as soon as we walked in the door Joni turned to Jen and said, “Let’s sing!” So we sang hymns to the Lord on the spot, a cappella. Then Jen asked Joni if she knew the song “Lord, You’re Holy.”

“No,” Joni said, “but I would love for you to sing it for me.” Jen sang her heart out, remembering every word. Even though some of her notes were a little off-key, nobody cared because it was a joyful noise unto the Lord. Joni, just like Jennifer, drew her strength from singing praise songs to God. What a glorious way to begin the day!

When the time came for Jen and me to share our story, there was a TV crew and a room full of staff members, a much bigger crowd than I had imagined. I was worried because the day before Jen had been very tired and disoriented, barely able to function due to the traveling and the three-hour time change.

While the sound crew was adjusting our microphones, Joni wheeled up to Jen and said, “Don’t be afraid, Jen. These people are your friends. I will be praying for you.” We asked God to speak His words through us, and once again the power of the Holy Spirit filled the room as Jennifer spoke from her heart. She was clearer and more articulate on camera than she had ever been. She even quoted the journal entry that she wrote before the accident from memory: “Anything is possible with you, Lord.” I was astounded!

Afterward Jennifer gave Joni a pair of dangly pearl earrings that she had made for her, and Joni had a friend put them in her ears immediately. Then Joni whispered in my ear something that I will never forget. She said, “Linda, when Jen prayed at the end, God spoke directly to my heart. I asked my husband, Ken, and he agreed. Maybe that is what this brain injury is all about. Jen is a vessel that God can speak through.”

Joni told Jen that she was speaking the following month at Liberty University in Virginia and wondered if it was close to where Jen lived. Jen smiled and said, “Honey, I go to Liberty University!” God had already orchestrated another detail. Since the film crew would be in Lynchburg with Joni, they would plan to stay several extra days to shoot footage of the crash scene, interview us in our home, and speak with others involved in the story. At dinner that night with Joni and Ken, we enjoyed a wonderful evening of fellowship. By 9 p.m. Jen and Joni were singing praise songs again in the parking lot of an Italian restaurant. What soul mates they were!

Joni spoke a month later, on April 7, at the Liberty University convocation. Known as “convo” to the university community, this weekly assembly each Thursday in the Vines Center athletic arena is a long-standing campus tradition. In the middle of her talk Joni recognized Jen and the rest of our family in the audience. “Wow,” she said. “Has this young woman stirred my heart and prompted me to draw even closer to the Lord Jesus!” Then she asked Jen to stand. As she did, Jen’s face was beamed onto the giant TV screens in the arena to the applause of the crowd. Joni told the audience that later in the day she would be taping an interview for a documentary segment on her television show.

That afternoon the video session went well. Jen took a fifteen-minute power nap in the car and then shot a thirty-minute interview with Joni. I was so proud of Jen as she answered each question with confidence and poise. At the end, Joni put her hand on Jen’s hand and said, “Jen, let’s sing ‘I Surrender All.’” The two of them glowed as they sang together. Later, alone in a corner of the studio in the university communications department, Joni, Jen, and I prayed that our story would have power and would change the lives of viewers forever.

Joni’s producer, Duane Barnhart, and cameraman Tim Rygh spent four days doing interviews at our house with Andy, Jen, Josh, and me. During that time they also interviewed others who were part of our story: Kristi Vann, the EMT who was at the accident site; the helicopter pilot; friends; doctors and nurses at Kluge. Duane and Tim had no idea what they were getting themselves into. When Jen spoke, God ministered to their hearts so powerfully that they were nearly overwhelmed with emotion, barely able to keep the cameras steady because their hands were shaking.

They put together an incredible two-part documentary on our story for Joni’s ministry. At the end of the second segment, Joni closed by quoting Philippians 1:12 (NIV). “Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel.” Looking into the camera with conviction, she added, “Jen can say the same thing. But the question is, can you?”

In December we were interviewed for the program Cross Examine produced by Coral Ridge Ministries in Florida. This show focused on the key issue of forgiveness. The invitation came thanks to a suggestion by Tim Rygh, who also handled assignments for Coral Ridge. The program host, Dr. Del Tackett, showed clips of Andy, Jen, and me talking about our struggles to forgive the drunk driver and my own anger at the policeman who let him get away. Del reminded the viewers that none of us can forgive in our own strength. “Only the Lord gives us the power to forgive,” he said.

I spoke on camera about the freedom of forgiveness, and how God showed me that when we don’t forgive, the target of our anger and bitterness becomes an idol. “The Lord doesn’t waste trials,” Jen added. “He has a plan and a purpose for everything.”

Suffering was part of God’s plan for Job, for Paul—who prayed repeatedly but in vain for the Lord to remove the thorn in his flesh—and, most of all, for His Son, Jesus. And suffering was part of His perfect plan for the Barrick family. I don’t understand it. I can only hold on to my conviction that, as Del affirmed, God’s plan is better than mine, and that in His strength alone I can let go of my plan and embrace His.

Every day I have a choice: hold on to old dreams and be angry and bitter about my loss, or let go of my old plans—what Del called “the script”—for my life and reach forward with joy and faith toward what God in His wisdom has planned for me instead. Del’s summary was right on the mark: “One path leads to destruction. The other path leads to life.”13

It was wonderful to be interviewed for these programs and reach many thousands of people at once. But for every one of these shows we did, there were many more live appearances in front of audiences ranging from a handful to a thousand or more.

By now I knew what parts of our story listeners responded to best, the parts that bared their own hearts to face their particular disappointments and crises and find faith in the Lord to overcome them. I also knew what Jen needed onstage to feel most comfortable sharing her testimony.

I typically started by introducing Jen and myself and explaining how our lives were changed by our accident. “First I begged God to heal Jennifer,” I explained. “Then I demanded that He do it. But after a while, I got into the Word of God and saw I’d been going about it all wrong. Instead of crying and begging for God to heal her, I started thanking God for healing Jen’s vision, her confusion, and her short-term memory, as well as for restoring the dexterity in her hands and her ability to process new information.

“This changed my whole mind-set from begging God and feeling helpless, to praising God and focusing on His power and His promises. In the crucible of our testing, we move from theory to reality as we begin to experience God’s power. I was blessed to learn what I believe is a divine thought: Don’t become obsessed with healing. Get lost in the wonder of God.”

After that I turned the floor over to Jen, who talked about the unfathomable faith and goodness of God. “I want everyone who is broken or hurting to know that God can still use you. He doesn’t look down on you. He looks on you more. The weakest people have done the most for God, because in our weakness, He is strong. Don’t ever be ashamed of your weakness. God wants you to see the potential of who you are going to be with His help. He wants to bring beauty from your ashes and heal your wounded heart. God wants to use you where you are, as you are. And He promises to carry you on the days you can’t see ahead.”

Then I concluded our presentation. “My new faith motto is: This life is just a dot on the timeline of eternity. I’ve said it out loud so many times that Jen has given me the nickname Polka Dot. Maybe our earthly life isn’t even as big as a dot. Maybe it’s a fraction of a dot, a molecule in a breath of air, compared to forever in heaven with our Lord and Savior. I hope that you will seek the presence of God in your life. Once you have been in the presence of Jesus as Jen has, you’ll have a different perspective on life. Jen isn’t earthly minded. She isn’t distracted by the things that don’t matter. There isn’t anything she would rather do than proclaim Christ.”

Thousands have come to know the Lord as a result of Jen’s testimony. Although my fallible, all-too-human heart still grieves at times for what she has lost, she has gained something far more precious in the Lord’s sight. She is a witness for Him like never before, winning souls for heaven.

When all is said and done, the only important question is, do our lives bring glory to God? By that standard—God’s standard—Jen’s life is richer than ever.