I sat in the top section of the arena in Louisville, my hands on the rough plastic seat I sat on.  Around me were the other fourteen members of my FFA chapter who had been given the privilege to go to the 87th National Convention.  We were in the first session.  I looked around to see a sea of blue.  Around us, over 50,000 members of FFA from the country sat, all dressed in the same blue corduroy jacket, white shirt, and black pants.  It was quite alarming at just how many FFA members sat around me.  It had been a great hour since the first session started.  It was then that the FFA President at the time, Brian Walsh, announced to the crowd, “We are pleased to welcome Mr. Nick Vujicic.”

The crowd gave a large applause.  At that time, an automated wheelchair came out from behind the walls of backstage.  When he came out, all I could think of was, Why had they put a table on the stage?  It was when Nick stepped off his wheelchair and stepped on the table when I fully understood:  Nick had no arms and no legs and had only one foot sticking out of his torso. He sort of reminded me of Chris Pratt for some reason.  He stood at around 3 feet and was dressed in a pink shirt and black pants.  For a while I just sat there, my mouth slightly hanging open.  I was thunderstruck by what I was witnessing. 

I could tell everyone felt the same way because there wasn’t a sound to be heard amongst those 50,000 people.  He began to talk.  His voice was one of those Australian accents like the ones that someone would just want to tell jokes all day.  He went on to tell us about himself, how he was born with tetra-amelia syndrome, when one is born with no limbs.  What was crazy was that he was laughing and joking about himself.  At one point he asked us all, “Do you want to see me do a backflip off this table?”

“Yes!” we all yelled.

“Okay,” he responded, flopping around his foot and arousing a laugh from the audience.  “Here I go.” 

Just as he was about to jump, he jerked himself up and turned to us.  “No.  I’m not gonna jump.  Are you crazy!?”

The whole arena, even Nick himself, gave an exhilarated laugh, which went on for about two minutes.  By the time everyone had settled down, my cheeks were so numb that someone could’ve poked me there, and I wouldn’t have felt it.  Nick started to talk again.  He talked about how when he went to school; he had no friends because of the way he was born, and he felt useless.  I felt a tight knot in my throat when Nick said that at age eleven he had thoughts about killing himself.  His voice sounded so desolate.  He paused for silence after that.  I could hear hundreds upon hundreds of sniffles in the room.  The knot of sadness in my throat turned to a knot of happiness when he told about how his life has turned around.  Nick has gone on and gotten married.  He said he has been able to do pretty much anything that a normal human can do, including hold his son.  I was thrilled that he had been able to get through that. 

By the time his talk was done, the whole 50,000 people must’ve stood up and cheered for him at least ten times.  The cheers were so loud that I wouldn’t have been surprised if all of Kentucky had heard us.  Even today, I still look back on that idolizing, inspirational, individual’s speech he gave that day and every part about it chokes me up:  the inspirational words, the smile on his face when we cheered, the tears of joy that rolled down his face as the National FFA Officers gave him a hug.  The thought leaves me in such high spirits.  It all gives me hope that no matter what, anything is possible.  Nick Vujicic made me believe that.  Because if he can do anything with no limbs, anyone can do anything.