Tag: BAWarrior podcast

When God Becomes Hope: A Teen’s Journey Through Loss and Healing

When God Becomes Hope: A Teen’s Journey Through Loss and Healing

By |

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 42:05 — 30.5MB)

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | RSS | More

Faith Fueled Resilience: Abri Bentley’s Story

 

There are moments in life when everything slows down just enough for you to hear what truly matters. This episode was one of those moments for me. As I sat across from Abri, I wasn’t just interviewing a guest-I was witnessing a living, breathing testimony of what it looks like to hold onto hope when everything else tries to take it away.

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” That verse from Romans 12:12 felt like it wrapped itself around this entire conversation. Because if there is anyone who embodies that kind of faith in motion, it’s Abri.

 

Abri’s first dance recital after amputation.

I first met Abri years ago, just after my own amputation. I was standing in a church parking lot on crutches, when I heard someone call my name. I turned to see a young girl—no older than nine—being carried over to me, full of light, full of joy, completely unshaken by the challenges she had already faced. In that moment, she didn’t just meet me… she steadied me. She spoke life into me without even realizing it. And I remember thinking, “If she can do this… I’m going to be okay.”

Fast forward to today, and that same young girl-now seventeen-is still walking through more than most people will ever understand. But what struck me the most during our conversation wasn’t just her strength. It was her honesty.

 

A young Abri battling cancer.

Abri didn’t sugarcoat the hard. She didn’t pretend that faith erases fear or pain. She spoke openly about the anger, the confusion, the loneliness. About the moments where her faith was shaken to its core. About isolating herself because fear felt safer than being seen. And yet… she didn’t stay there.

That’s the difference.

She made a choice-again and again-to lean back into God. Not perfectly. Not without questions. But with a willingness to trust, even when nothing made sense.

 

Laughter and sense of humor is so helpful amidst trials. Never lose your smile!

And what I see in her now is something even more powerful than the fearless little girl I first met. I see depth. I see resilience forged through pressure. I see a young woman who understands that faith isn’t about having all the answers-it’s about knowing where to turn when you don’t.

As we talked about what’s ahead for her-another amputation this summer, stepping into adulthood, reclaiming her voice in her own medical journey-I couldn’t help but feel in awe. Because she’s choosing courage in real time. She’s choosing hope in the middle of uncertainty. She’s choosing to believe that something good can still come from something incredibly hard.

And when I asked her what gets her through it all, her answer was simple, but profound: Jesus.

Not as a distant idea. Not as a checklist. But as a constant presence. A friend. A place to bring her anger, her fear, her questions—everything.

That kind of relationship… that kind of faith… it changes you.

It doesn’t mean the road gets easier. But it means you’re never walking it alone.

What Abri reminded me-and what I hope you take with you—is this: it’s okay to feel the hard things. It’s okay to be angry, to question, to struggle. But don’t stay there. Don’t build a home in that space.

 

Our reunion after several years of non-stop trials in Abri’s life.

Life is too short to live without hope.

And hope doesn’t come from the world—it comes from something deeper. Something steady. Something unshakable.

So if you’re in a season right now where everything feels heavy… where fear is loud… where you’re not sure how to take the next step… start small.

Find community. Find people who remind you of who you are when you forget. Open the door-even just a crack-to something bigger than yourself.

And maybe, just maybe… like Abri… you’ll begin to see that even in the pressure, even in the pain, something beautiful is being formed.

A warrior.

Be joyful in hope. Be patient in affliction. Be faithful in prayer. -Romans 12:12

Your story isn’t over.

And neither is the strength inside of you.

As always…

Be healthy,

Be happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

 

 

 

 

 

From Diagnosis to Dig, Bridget’s Journey as a Teen Cancer Survivor

From Diagnosis to Dig, Bridget’s Journey as a Teen Cancer Survivor

By |

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 52:02 — 39.6MB)

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | RSS | More

A Daughter and Mother’s Story of Resilience

 

This week on BAWarrior Podcast, I had the absolute honor of sitting down with Bridget and her mom, Jamie, during Limb Loss and Limb Difference Awareness Month, and I can honestly say this conversation will stay with me for a long time. Bridget is only fourteen, but the strength, maturity, and perspective she carries are far beyond her years. From the moment we started talking, I could feel that this episode was going to be something special.

 

 

 

I first wanted people to meet Bridget for who she is today, not just through the lens of her diagnosis or her limb loss. She described herself as funny, athletic, and someone who tries to be outgoing, and I loved that. What stood out most to me was how clearly she wants the world to see that amputees are not limited. She wants people to understand that having limb loss does not mean your life becomes small. In her mind, amputees can still go after anything they want, and I think that message alone is powerful.

 

Bridget found her passion and purpose with volleyball. She made her high school volleyball team!

 

As we moved into her story, her mom Jamie helped fill in some of the earliest pieces. Bridget was only six years old when a soccer injury led to swelling in her leg, which quickly turned into tests, X-rays, an MRI, a biopsy, and the devastating news that no parent ever wants to hear: cancer. Jamie shared how ironic and heartbreaking it was that their family had already been deeply involved in raising money for St. Jude before ever realizing their own daughter would become a patient there. Within days, their whole world changed, and they moved to Memphis where Bridget underwent chemotherapy, a below-knee amputation, and months of treatment.

Listening to Jamie speak as a mother hit me deeply. She talked about the helplessness of watching your child suffer and not being able to take that pain away. As a mom, I felt every word of that. She described the trauma of treatment, the fear, the exhaustion, and the emotional weight of having to stay strong in the middle of the battle. And yet through all of it, Bridget kept moving forward.

 

Bridget’s strength was apparent almost immediately! She’s a fighter!

 

What amazed me most was that cancer and amputation were not the end of Bridget’s hardships. After treatment, she endured broken femurs, osteoporosis, growth plate complications, more surgeries, and more recovery. But even with all of that, she never seemed to settle into a mindset of defeat. Instead, she kept looking for the light. She kept believing there would be something better ahead.

For Bridget, that turning point came through sports. When she was able to get back into athletics, especially volleyball, it gave her life, purpose, and joy again. You could hear it in her voice. Sports helped her step out of survival mode and back into being a kid, an athlete, and a competitor. That part of her identity mattered, and it became a huge part of her healing.

One of my favorite moments in this episode was hearing about her determination on and off the court. She made her high school volleyball team, and even after her prosthetic blade cracked, she still found a way to keep going. Duct tape and all, she showed up. That story alone says so much about who she is. She is tough, gritty, and absolutely unwilling to let obstacles define her.

We also talked about her dream of making the U.S. Paralympic volleyball team, and I have no doubt she is on a beautiful path toward something incredible. She spoke about how meaningful it is to be in a space where her disability feels normalized, where she is not looked at as different, but as fully belonging. That really stayed with me.

 

USA Paralympic dreaming

 

What Bridget shared at the end was simple, but powerful: it gets better. Maybe not overnight, maybe not quickly, but there is always something better ahead. That kind of wisdom from someone so young is exactly why this month’s Survivors to Warriors series matters so much.

This episode reminded me that warriors do not always look loud or dramatic. Sometimes they look like a fourteen-year-old girl with quiet strength, relentless hope, and the courage to keep going. Bridget is absolutely one of them.

 

Make sure to join us on YouTube, HERE , or your favorite streaming platform for Bridget’s story and for several more Limb Loss Awareness month interviews of Survivors to Warriors. Like, Share, Subscribe today!!!

 

Have a beautifully, blessed week and remember what a warrior you are!

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

 

 

Brokenness to Masterpiece

Brokenness to Masterpiece

By |

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 19:57 — 20.8MB)

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | RSS | More

The Canvas of Courage

 

What if the very thing you’ve been trying to hide… is actually the most beautiful part of your story?

This week on the BAWarrior Podcast, I found myself sitting in reflection after a weekend of rest, sunshine, and quiet moments here in Arizona. As spring starts to show up and life begins to feel a little lighter, I couldn’t help but think about something deeper, the parts of ourselves we often try to cover up. The broken pieces. The scars. The moments we wish never happened.

The Beauty in the Cracks

And I asked myself, and now I’m asking you, what if that brokenness isn’t something to fix or hide… but something to honor?

As an above-knee amputee, my brokenness is visible. It’s physical. But what people don’t always see is the emotional journey that comes with it. The uncertainty, the identity shifts, the moments of feeling completely lost. Even though my amputation was a choice after years of surgeries, I still didn’t know what the outcome of my life would look like. I didn’t know who I would become on the other side of that decision.

It felt like my life had been rerouted-like I was on one track, moving forward with a plan, and suddenly everything shifted. A new direction. A new identity. A new path I didn’t ask for.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize: that “mess”… that disruption… that brokenness… it became my canvas.

This week at church, I heard a phrase that stopped me in my tracks: the mess becomes the masterpiece. And I felt that deeply. Because there have been so many moments over the past seven years where I felt like an absolute mess. Not put together. Not polished. Not “figured out.”

But what if we’re not supposed to be?

What if the process; the struggle, the rebuilding, the redefining, is actually where the beauty is created?

So often, society tells us to fix what’s broken. Heal quickly. Move on. Or if we can’t fix it, hide it. Cover it up so no one sees. But I want to challenge that. Because those scars, those cracks, they tell a story. They show where you’ve been, what you’ve survived, and who you’ve become.

 

Honoring my scars, not hiding them

 

And I don’t see mine as something to hide anymore.

Every scar on my body represents a battle I fought and didn’t quit. Every challenge I’ve faced has shaped me into who I am today. I am still here. Still moving. Still growing. And that, to me, is something to be proud of.

Next month, as we move into Limb Loss and Limb Difference Awareness Month, I’ll be sharing more stories, because I believe so strongly in the power of storytelling. Every single person in this community has a story. And while they may look similar on the surface, the strength, the resilience, the warrior spirit behind each one is completely unique.

That’s why I named this podcast BAWarrior. Because I truly believe that’s what we are.

But being a warrior doesn’t mean life is easy. It means we fight. Daily. Sometimes hourly. We rise, even when the waves crash over us and try to pull us under. We find a way forward, even when it feels impossible.

And every one of those battles… every one of those cracks… becomes part of the masterpiece.

There’s a beautiful form of art, Kintsugi- a Japanese art that repairs broken pieces of pottery with gold! It symbolizes resilience, embracing imperfections, and the beauty of a repaired life. The cracks aren’t hidden. They’re highlighted. Honored. And in the end, the piece becomes even more beautiful because of where it was broken.

 

 

That’s us.

We are not less because of what we’ve been through. We are more.

So if you’re sitting here today feeling like a mess—good. That means something is being created. That means you’re in the middle of the process. And masterpieces take time. They aren’t rushed. They’re layered. Built stroke by stroke, day by day.

And here’s something I’ve learned along the way—when we take the focus off ourselves and begin lifting others up, something shifts. There’s healing in that. There’s purpose in that. When you help someone else rise, you rise too.

 

 

So this week, I want to give you something practical.

Name your cracks. What is your brokenness? Write it down. Then ask yourself—what meaning have I been giving this? And how can I rewrite that meaning?

And then—use it.

Use your story to help someone else feel less alone. Share it. Speak it. Own it. Because when you do, you’re not just healing yourself—you’re becoming a light for someone else who might be struggling in silence.

Stop covering your cracks.

Start honoring them.

Stand a little taller in your story. Smile when people look your way. Let curiosity open doors for connection. You are not something to hide—you are someone who has overcome.

And if you’re a woman walking this amputee journey and you’re looking for a place to grow, to be seen, and to be supported, I invite you to join our Amped Women virtual chats on Wednesdays. You don’t have to do this alone.

Because here’s the truth—I am still in the mess. Every day isn’t perfect. Every day isn’t easy. But I’m choosing to honor it. I’m choosing to trust that something beautiful is being created.

And I want that for you too.

You are not broken.

You are becoming.

You are a warrior.

And your masterpiece is still being written.

So chin up, rise up, warriors…

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,

Be YOU!!!!

Much love,

 

 

Finding Your Place Again After Limb Loss

Finding Your Place Again After Limb Loss

By |

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 18:11 — 19.9MB)

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | RSS | More

“The Name on the Bottom of My Foot”

 

 

Do you feel like you belong?

That’s the question I want to start with today. Because if you’re an amputee, or walking alongside someone who is, you’ve probably felt that quiet, unsettling shift… that moment where life no longer feels like it fits the way it used to.

Welcome back to BAWarrior Podcast, a space for resilience, healing, and living life amplified exactly as you are. I’m your host, Angie Heuser, and I’m walking this journey right alongside you as an above-knee amputee.

This past week, I did something playful… but it turned into something deeply meaningful.

I was outside, barefoot in the Arizona warmth, and I had my prosthetic off because I was using my running blade. And for whatever reason, I grabbed a marker and wrote the name “Andy” on the bottom of my prosthetic foot.

If you’re a Toy Story fan, you already know the reference. Andy writes his name on the bottom of Woody’s boot, and later Buzz’s foot, as a symbol of belonging. It means those toys have a place. They matter. They are part of something bigger.

 

 

And as soon as I wrote it… it hit me.

Isn’t that exactly what we’re all searching for after limb loss?

Because here’s the truth, amputation doesn’t just change your body. It changes your identity. It changes how you see yourself, how you move through the world, and how the world sometimes responds to you.

For me, seven years ago when I chose to amputate, it felt like I was on a train that suddenly switched tracks without warning. I wasn’t going where I thought I would anymore. And the first real question became:

Who am I now?

Because I didn’t feel like I belonged in my old life the same way. Yes, I was still a wife, a mom, an athlete, but I also stood out in ways I never had before. From wearing gym shoes everywhere because of my prosthetic limitations, to navigating how people perceived me, to questioning where I fit socially… it shook my confidence and my identity.

And what I’ve learned through talking to so many amputees is this:

The surgery isn’t the hardest part.

Learning to walk again isn’t even the hardest part.

The hardest part… is figuring out where you belong now.

That’s the piece no one really prepares you for.

And that’s where this idea of Andy’s name became so powerful to me.

 

 

Because in Toy Story, those toys aren’t afraid of being broken, they’re afraid of being forgotten. Of not having a place. Of not belonging anymore.

And isn’t that what we feel sometimes too?

But here’s the shift. Here’s where the warrior mindset comes in.

Instead of asking, “Why did this happen to me?”

I started asking, “What can I do with this?”

That mindset changed everything.

I began to see this journey not as an ending, but as a reinvention. I set goals. I pushed myself. I proved, to myself first, that I was still capable of living a full, meaningful life. And in that process, something bigger started to unfold.

This podcast was born.

Then the women’s amputee chat group.

Then stepping into research, working with incredible teams at MIT and Harvard, participating in studies, surgeries, and innovations to help move our community forward.

 

My Community, My friends who always have my back!

 

I found purpose.

And I realized something important:

Belonging doesn’t come from going back to who you were.

It comes from building who you are now.

Our adversity creates our strength.

Our identity evolves.

Our scars tell our stories.

And our community creates our belonging.

That’s why community matters so deeply.

Because sometimes, you won’t find belonging in the same places you used to. And that’s okay. We outgrow spaces. People come and go. Life shifts.

But there is a place for you.

Your new “toy box,” if you will.

A place where people understand you. Support you. See you, not in spite of your journey, but because of it.

That’s why I created the women’s chats. Because I saw how many women were struggling with identity, friendships, relationships, confidence… all of it. And they needed a space where they could just be real.

Because you don’t have to do this alone.

 

 

So here’s what I want you to do this week, your call to action.

I want you to mark yourself.

Not necessarily with a tattoo—but with something meaningful.

A word.

A symbol.

Your name.

A reminder.

Put it somewhere you’ll see it every day—your mirror, your prosthetic, your journal, your car.

Something that tells you:

I belong.

I have purpose.

I matter.

For me, it was “Andy.” It made me smile. It brought me back to special, warm memories with my kids. It gave me a sense of lightness and meaning all at once.

But yours can be whatever speaks to you.

Because on the hard days, and they will come, you need something to ground you. Something to remind you that even though life looks different…

You are still part of this story.

You are not forgotten.

You are not alone.

You are not without purpose.

You are evolving.

You are growing.

You are becoming.

So find your new community.

Find your purpose.

And most importantly…

Mark yourself in a way that reminds you—you still belong.

You are warriors.

You are strong.

And I am so proud of how far you’ve come—and where you’re going.

Until next time…

Be healthy,

Be happy,

Be YOU!!!

💛

Much Love,

 

 

Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes

Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes

By |

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 30:39 — 33.2MB)

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | RSS | More

Facing Fears, Letting Go,  and Breathing

 

What if the thing you’re most afraid of… is the exact mountain you were meant to ski?

Welcome back to Be a Warrior. I’m Angie Heuser — above knee amputee, equine therapy lover, skier, and someone who refuses to live life from the sidelines. And if you’ve been following me the past several weeks, you know we’ve been diving deep into the energy of the Year of the Fire Horse — a year of movement, momentum, fearless expansion, courage, and decisive action.

But before the fire horse came the snake.

And I can’t stop thinking about that metaphor.

The Year of the Snake ended February 16th — a year of shedding. And if you’ve ever seen a snakeskin left behind, you know it’s both fascinating and a little unsettling. Snakes don’t just slip out of their skin like changing clothes. They rub up against rough surfaces. They press into discomfort. Sometimes it takes extra effort around the face or certain tight spots to fully shed what no longer fits.

It’s not gentle.

And neither is growth.

When I think about amputee life — about losing a limb, whether by trauma, illness, or in my case, elective amputation after years of surgeries — there is so much shedding. Shedding fear of the unknown. Shedding anger. Shedding grief. Shedding the identity we once had. And it doesn’t happen smoothly. It happens against the rough edges of life.

But once the shedding is done?

The new skin is ready to grow.

And that’s where the Fire Horse comes in.

This year only happens every sixty years — the Horse combined with the element of Fire. It’s bold. It’s fast. It rewards courage. It exposes comfort. It does not tolerate stagnation. And if you’ve built your life around playing small, it’s going to make you very uncomfortable.

Which brings me to the ski slopes.

If you follow me online, you saw we were just in Park City. I’ve been skiing since I was seventeen — long before amputation. But I’ll tell you something honestly: there isn’t a single day I clip into my ski that I don’t feel fear.

Even now.

Especially now.

Three months after my amputation in 2018, I got back on the slopes. I had already missed five years of skiing due to surgeries. I had told my husband if I didn’t ski that April, I might never do it again. So I did it scared. I did it sick to my stomach. I did it unsure.

And here’s what skiing has taught me — lessons that mirror life perfectly.

First: the person in front of you has the right of way.

On the mountain, it’s your responsibility to avoid the skier ahead of you. What’s behind you? That’s their responsibility.

Isn’t that life?

If I constantly look behind me — at my past, my trauma, my failures — I lose balance. Literally. With one leg, if I look back, I fall. And metaphorically? Same thing. If I live looking backward, I miss the beauty and the hazards in front of me.

That doesn’t mean I ignore the past. I learn from it. I listen. I stay aware. But I don’t let it dictate my line down the mountain.

Second: you will face forks in the slope.

Left might be safe. Right might be steep. Green or black diamond. Easy or challenging.

Comfort or growth.

The Fire Horse energy says choose courage. Choose the line that stretches you. And I had that moment on this trip — two blue runs splitting off, one steeper than the other. I heard myself say, “Just go.”

So I did.

I picked up speed. I carved hard. I pushed myself. And eventually, my leg gave out and I ended up on my butt. Not a dramatic crash — more of a tired surrender.

 

Take five and reassess your path every now and then

 

But here’s the thing: I was proud of that fall.

Because if I’m not falling occasionally, I’m not pushing hard enough. Growth requires risk. Risk requires vulnerability. And vulnerability sometimes ends with snow in your face.

Warriors aren’t built in comfort.

They’re built in the steep sections.

Third: breathe.

One of the biggest lessons my ski instructors taught me after amputation was breathing rhythm. As I carve down the mountain, I exhale into the turn and inhale as I rise. The mountain becomes a rhythm — breathe in, breathe out.

When I hold my breath, I tense up. When I tense up, I rely too much on my upper body. When I breathe, I find flow.

How often in life do we grit our teeth and forget to breathe?

When we breathe through discomfort, we release tension. We think clearly. We stay grounded. Whether you’re walking in a prosthetic, stepping into a hard conversation, or heading into an interview — breathe.

 

 

Finally: visualize the run.

I watched Olympic skiers at the top of the mountain, eyes closed, moving their bodies as they mentally rehearsed every turn. They had already succeeded in their minds before pushing off.

That’s not luck. That’s preparation.

If you only visualize falling, you’ll hesitate. If you only picture failure, you’ll create it. But if you visualize walking confidently in your prosthesis… if you visualize that difficult conversation going well… if you see yourself succeeding — you are building neural pathways toward that outcome.

Will you still fall sometimes? Yes.

But falling isn’t failure. It’s feedback.

The Fire Horse doesn’t reward perfection. It rewards courage. It rewards action. It rewards getting uncomfortable.

I came home from those mountains thinking about all of you. About the warriors who are afraid to let that bold part of themselves out because it might mean discomfort. It might mean risk. It might mean exposing the places you’ve been playing small.

But that’s where grit is forged.

That’s where character is polished.

That’s where life gets amplified.

 

 

So here’s my call to action:

Do the thing that scares you this week. Maybe in baby steps. Maybe messy. Maybe imperfect. But do it.

If you fall, smile. Ask yourself what you just learned. Visualize the next attempt. Breathe. Adjust your line. And go again.

Stop waiting for the perfect mood, the perfect date, the perfect version of yourself.

The mountain is here. YOUR mountain!

Embrace it, charge forward!

The Fire Horse energy is here.

And you, warrior, are more capable than you think.

Have a be-YOU-tiful week ahead and as always,

Be healthy.

Be happy.

Be YOU!!!

 

Much love,

What’s your “mountain”?

Meta

Archives

Categories