The Road to Heaven - Tyler Robinson ❤

"But there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ. He is the light and the life of the world; yea, a light that is endless, that can never be darkened; yea, and also a life which is endless, that there can be no more death." Mosiah 16:8-9 ❤

It's been two years, today.

I met Tyler Robinson when I was the new kid in our 4th grade class. He was always goofy, bubbly, the happiest and kindest in the room. I'm tempted to share all of the crazy memories him and I made in our years of friendship, but I want to focus more on the impact he made during his later years.

When I found out that Tyler had cancer,  we were both sophomores in high school. I remember how surreal it felt; cancer had been fictional to me up to that point in my life. He missed our entire junior year of high school, though, and part of our senior year.
We'd visit him, of course. And he seemed no different, other than his lack of hair. He smiled and laughed and joked, pulling the 'cancer card' occasionally. ie:
   "Hey will you grab that for me?"
   "No, get it yourself...."
   "But I have cancer."
   "OK LOVE YOU"
Funniest kid I think I know.

He was declared cancer free during our senior year, and he came back to school. Seeing him in the halls again was an unreal kind of happiness! As Dan Reynolds once said, Tyler has a positivity that fills a room.

Friday, March 1st: standing with him after school, he had his hat on - covering his hairless head - as always. A teacher walked by and told him to take it off, and he smiled and nodded, acting as if he would. We asked why he hadn't pulled the 'cancer card' like he sometimes did. He said that he liked that teacher too much and would have felt bad -- he was always thinking of others.
He said he felt kind of sick. We didn't think too much of it.

Saturday, March 2nd: my friend and I were getting ready to crash our rival school's prom. I called Tyler and his best friend, Chad, over and over, hoping they'd be our dates. They never answered. We went about the rest of our night without a second thought.

Sunday, March 3rd: I found out at church. Someone said he'd had a seizure the night before and was now if a coma; he wasn't expected to wake up. Once again, surreal. Tyler wasn't going to die, there was no way. I left church early with two of my friends and we rushed to the hospital where we were told we could visit him. 

His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. His fingers would sometimes move. I had full hope that he would wake up; miracles happen every day.
People were saying 'rest in peace' in their posts on social media, but he was still breathing. They took him off of life support, still breathing. Snoring, even, while in a coma. What a Tyler thing to do ;)

Monday, March 4th: a little after three in the morning, Tyler stopped breathing.

For some reason, I still thought it was necessary to go to school that day. I looked a little rough, to say the least, and I cried the whole day long. Half way through the day, I realized that Tyler would not act this way over his death, so why should I? And THAT IS THE MOMENT something in me changed.

I realized right then, that in Tyler's time of trial, he found healing in making other people happy. He never sought after attention or pity. He had confidence and optimism, he never came off as dramatic, and I decided I wanted to be just like him. I hate that it took him passing away for me to have this change of heart, but I can testify that he was a missionary for me even after he left this earth, and he continues to bring me closer to Christ.

After his passing, I once was at his house with his mom. She shared with me parts of his patriarchal blessing that had not 'come to pass' while he was here. She told me that she knows those things will still happen for Tyler, but in a different way than expected. She is the strongest woman I have ever met in my entire existence, and I admire how willfully she leaned on her testimony during such a hard time.

She shared with me a quote that says,
"In the midst of adversity, lies opportunity."
(Or something like that)

In the midst of Tyler's trial, he found the opportunity to spread a light that continues to glow. He touched people's hearts who continue to pass that light on in memory of him.

In the midst of the Robinson's trial of him passing, they found the opportunity to be the ones who spread that light. The band, Imagine Dragons, and Tyler's family stated the Tyler Robinson Foundation which helps make a difference for families who are affected by childhood cancer. Cancer sucks, but Tyler somehow turned it into something positive.

Since then I've tried to live in such a way that, if I were to simply not wake up in the morning, hopefully my life was not led in vain. The impact that one person can have on this world absolutely blows my mind. I cannot even thank Ty enough for the impact he had on me, and the impact that he still has on my heart every single day.

Tyler was, and still is, like sunshine - everyone would agree. He found ways to laugh when expected to cry, and he could make anyone smile when they thought they had no reason to. I'll always always love that kid, because his big heart touched mine.

I hope to never take anyone for granted another day in my life.

Love you all lots,
xo Zo ❤

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A Denied Mission Call: my dark side.

**disclaimer: this is a story that I am always hesitant to share, even with the people I am closest with. I am embarrassed by how I once acted, and would like to assure you that I am no longer the same as I once was. This story will seem dramatic; I promise I am not looking for attention. I am 100% better now.

"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them." Ether 12:27 ❤

I was 9 when my sister turned 12 and moved up from Primary to the Young Women's program in my church. I remember one Sunday, she came home with a badge that said Future Missionary across it. I listened in excitement as she told me why she wanted to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, she went on and on, and I was captivated. That was the exact moment that I decided I would serve a mission, as well.
Finally, at the age of 18 and after much preparation, I started my papers, turned them in as soon as they'd let me, and I waited. And waited.
They told me that three weeks was the average amount of time it should take to get your mission call in the mail. Well, three weeks passed by, then four, and they kept on building up. Almost two months after I had submitted my papers, my stake president asked me to meet with him. Walking into his office, my heart felt tight. My bishop was there, as well, and the three of us knelt in prayer to open our meeting. I could sense what was coming. We proceeded to sit down, and my stake president looked straight into my eyes, a look of empathy across his face.

"Sister VanWinkle, I have been informed that your mission call was denied."

I had no words. I nodded, stood, shook their hands, and returned to my car. I all of a sudden felt lost; I thought I knew exactly what God had wanted me to do. Why had he changed my plan? I called my best friend and, for the first time, I told  her the whole story.
My best kept secret.

I believe it started in the first grade. I critiqued myself harshly starting at a young age. I hated that I was bigger than the other kids in my grade, though I was not overweight, just taller and stronger. But to me, it wasn't how I was 'supposed to look'. Since I was six, there has been a constant demon deep in the back of my thoughts, telling me I'm inferior, that I'm 'less than'. I always thought it was just my own lack of confidence, I didn't recognize that there was a disorder in my mind feeding me lies about myself. I mistook it's voice for my own. For a while, it just chiseled away at my feelings of self-worth, but as I got older it began to tell me how to fix my problems.

Eighth grade. For the first time, I attempted to make myself throw up. I remember sitting on the bathroom tile, crying as the shower ran and music blared, in hopes that no one would hear me. Over the next year and a half, I did this same thing only enough times to count on one hand, but the spark had ignited.
High school. I started rugby. I began to be immensely proud of my strength and the eating disorder was less present than ever before. But then, senior year. There were several events that broke me down, the rugby season was coming to a close, and I just didn't care anymore. I let the eating disorder take over.

Let me pause and explain to you,
  An eating disorder is not a choice. Like having depression or being bipolar or any other kind of mental disorder, it is something that is off inside of your brain. In MY OWN RIGHT MIND I knew I wasn't overweight. An eating disorder is like a little person that sits at the back of your mind and tells you lies about yourself all day long, until you end up believing it. You can choose to ignore it, like I did for quite some time, but that can only go on for so long. Once you give in even in the slightest, it gets more aggressive.
  An eating disorder is also not classified by actions made. A person can have an eating disorder and never lose weight.  The disorder is the part of your mind breaking down your confidence; these are the thoughts that potentially lead to the actions of not eating or throwing up.

The picture at the end of this post is me at the heaviest I have ever been: 175. But looking back, I see that that number doesn't matter. I was mostly muscle, but I hated my size.

Post high school. The worst it got. I had an obsession with the boney look; cheek bones, hip bones, collar bones. I used to admire the athletic build, but as soon as this mind set switched my actions followed suit. I started counting calories: no more than 1000 a day. Whatever I did eat was a fruit or a vegetable, and I was taking handfuls of laxatives a day. I'd work out for two hours in the morning and then another few at night, I'd tell my friends I had plans and couldn't hang out then I'd sneak to the gym, again. I would weigh myself every hour of every day, starting first thing in the morning. I lost 10+ pounds a week, and I was thrilled. These actions, they were the final thing the eating disorder needed to break me, and just like that, my mind was no longer it's own.
All I thought about was how to avoid eating, what I could do to burn more calories. With every step I took further into this disorder, I also lost the feeling of self-worth. I was smaller than I'd ever been, yet I hated myself more than I ever had.

Once you start acting the way the eating disorder tells you to, you also start to believe the lies it tells you about yourself. I hated seeing my reflection; I would literally look in a mirror and cry. I could no longer look people in the eyes. I couldn't even feel the spirit like I used to be able to; I could tell Heavenly Father was disappointed in my actions. But I honestly didn't think it was that big of a problem. I thought that as long as I wasn't hospitalized, there was nothing to worry about.
Well, God disagreed. He prompted whoever it was that reviewed my mission papers to not accept them, and looking back now, I see it was for the best. At the time, it felt like a slap in the face, like Heavenly Father saying he didn't trust me.

So, like in any trial, I knelt in prayer.
I layed it all out on the table for him, admitting everything I thought about myself and the way I had treated myself. I prayed that I would grow to WANT to change, because at that time I was still attatched to the eating disorder. For months, I used Him as a therapist-like figure, telling him my every thought and problem. Every single day, I prayed for confidence. I prayed to be able to love myself the way He loves me.
Then, on September 10th, 2014, it clicked.
I was in my apartment, on Pinterest just like any other casual night, when a friend sent me a pin. She had no idea I had any kind of issue with myself, so I like to assume that she was prompted to do so. It said,

"Love yourself first, so you know what you deserve."

That got me. My best friend's mom says I have  'silly heart', because my whole life long I have been soo excited to know whoever it is that God will have me marry. I've loved him since I was one. I didn't want to be better for myself, but for him? Anything. I realized that whoever it is that I fall in love with deserves better than who I was at that time. My future daughters, they deserve better than a mother who could potentially teach them to critique themselves as harshly as I have. I would hate myself if they learned, from me, to dislike themselves.
So, I learned to love myself. I continued to pray for help, and I truly treated my body like a temple, and I monitored my negative thoughts. Everything negative in my life, I cut it out altogether.

I know that God loves me. Even at my worst, he loved me still. He refused to let go of me, and stuck by my side even when it seemed as if I was pushing him away.

"I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me, confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me. I tremble to know that for me he was crucified, that for me, a sinner, he suffered, he bled and died. I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine to rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine. That he should extend his great love unto such as I, sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify. I think of his hands, pierced and bleeding to pay the debt! Such mercy, such love, and devotion.. Can I forget? No. I will praise and adore at the mercy seat, until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet. Oh it is wonderful that he should care for me enough to DIE for me. Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me."

Now, led by my Heavenly Father, I have found complete happiness. And I am forever thankful.

xo Zo ❤

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