I find myself continuing to compare the loss of J.T. to surviving a fire. Now granted I have never had to survive a fire but I can imagine what it might be like. Walking around sifting through great mountains of charred debris trying to find things to put into a box marked “treasures”. Looking desperately at each item and wishing I could restore its value. The black soot covering my hands and face, not stopping because I know there is something in this pile I could hold on to, something to remind me of what I had. I often feel like I am sorting through the smoldering treasures of my life searching for understanding. Looking for greater knowledge of my situation. Picking pieces up, trying to assign it some value and more likely than not watching it crumble and run through my fingers like warm, black sand. Trying to comprehend what is now important, reburying my regrets and not stopping until I find something to hold on to.

The dictionary defines the word denial as a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided. However I think a better definition for denial is the most common form of self-preservation humans’ use. I know that denial plays a large part in the grieving process and I am in the thick of it. I keep J.T.’s room just like he left it, right down to the toys under his bed, for what? Fear that when he returns he will be upset because they are not where he left them. That to me is easier to tell myself. That is denial. We all use it in some form or fashion to help ourselves cope with situations, just as Yamaha uses it. They deny the number of accidents, lives they are taking, people being maimed. They sit on their perch of denial because the reality is too much to face. The perch is now full of grieving parents, spouses, and siblings. Here we all sit trying to face our reality. I suppose misery really does need company.

Today my feelings range somewhere between angry and hopeless. I know these emotions will not take up permanent residence in me because I am like a broken piece of china held together with Band-Aids and super glue. Whatever fills up this vessel eventually trickles out. A while ago my Sister-in-law gave me a book. The title is Prayers for Emotional Wholeness by Stormie Omartian I found this prayer on page 199 and it stuck with me today.
Lord I cry out to you today and ask you to give me relief from the difficult things I am facing. Bring them to a good conclusion as only you can do. I know you understand all I am going through, and you see all I do and what I am up against. You even know my thoughts about my circumstances right now. Help me navigate these rough waters so that I can not only survive, but come through victoriously.

This prayer is based on scripture from Psalm 138:3 In the day when I cried out, you answered me, and made me bold with strength in my soul.

If you find yourself facing down a corporation or just trying to make it through the day…Here’s hoping we all have a little of God’s strength right now.

I couldn’t sleep last night I was up early and I found comfort sitting and looking out at the trees. With Autumn upon us their leaves begin to change from the usual deep green to shades of orange, red, and brown and as the breeze comes they gently release from their branches and float to the ground just starting to pile at the base. Watching them I began comparing my life to a tree. My Tree of Life once so big and green. Under its grand canopy I could find shade from the heat that life cooks up, or hold tight to its trunk for safety during one of life’s many storms. And occasionally when life gets too much to handle I could climb up into the shelter of its leaves to hide for a while.
Just as autumn has come to my back yard it has also come to my life through this tragedy and my tree which was once so bountiful is now baron and empty. As I stand here looking up at this new tree I can’t help but think maybe it could be useful too. No it is not the shelter it once was but perhaps its empty branches could be used to reach out to someone, or as a walking stick to lean on while I shoulder this heavy burden. And when winter comes and the blinding snow and rain fall all around and life has chilled me to the core maybe I could use its fruitless wood for a warm embracing fire. The desolate arms that were once my hiding place no longer exists but I can climb up its sturdy trunk and rather than hide I can stand. From high atop I can look out and see clearly the things below, which require change. When spring returns my tree might once again blossom and begin to show signs of life. It will be different now, some of its branches broken or missing. The scars of our journey visible on its trunk, but I know this tree will somehow be useful too. I am learning that life may take from us, but the tools we need to survive it are always there, if we choose to see them.

I was handed a stack of another 20 incidents involving the Yamaha Rhino. So far there have been too many injuries to count and the death toll is rising. The stability of the Rhino has been compared to that of a bar stool by The Engineering Institute and yet nothing has been done. We suffer at the hands of Yamahas lack of concern for there own consumers and quite frankly I find that appalling. At what point does the loss of human life begin to matter to them the way it matters to me? Every story I read only fuels me and motivates me toward the goal of prompting change. But why does a matter that involves death take so much prompting? These I suppose are not questions for us to answer; however, when the ostrich pulls his head out of the sand on this one what a hell he has to face.