Proximity

Tags

black excellence, black lives matter, Christian, Christian Women, courage, Friendship, God's grace, God's love, God's truth, grace, Healing, hope, hope in Christ, hurt, identity, identity in Christ, kindness, love, marriage, Parenting, Prejudice, protecting children, purpose, racism, raising children, self care, Serving, sonship, the gospel, unconditional love, unity, Women

Being close to me does not mean you are not racist. Please do not make me your token card that proves you are not racist. That is not my job. That is not my role in my humanity.

I grew up in a family that was the most diverse one around me. I learned to love people for who they were. These people loved me so well. I never looked at them and saw difference. I just saw my family.

I grew up in a community where most of the kids were white or Hispanic, and there were very few African American kids. There was no one who looked like me. I always felt like the odd man out.

I’ll never forget the first play date that I had with a white friend. Her mom bought us coloring books and made snacks for us. She was always so kind, and I was welcomed in her home. I have often thought back on this experience and what it meant to me to feel completely accepted. Laura, thank you and your family for genuinely loving and welcoming me.

This was much different than my experience a few years later. I had a best friend that I played with everyday. I asked her if she wanted to come to my house to play. She was so excited. I was so excited.

The next day at recess she said her mom said she couldn’t come to my house because it was on the South Side. She said it’d be best if we didn’t play together anymore. I’ll never forget the feeling I had when she walked away from me at recess. It wasn’t the last time I’d feel it.

There were all these people who didn’t “see color,” but definitely wouldn’t let their kids date someone who wasn’t white. It was okay because, “…it was just the way I was raised.” That’s garbage. That’s bigotry. That’s racism.

You aren’t nice. You aren’t a good person. You don’t not see color. The world needs you to be a better human. The world needs you to recognize your blind spots and grips on privilege. I need you to do that.

If you love me, don’t be close to me so that you can hold me up on the altar of your ego that keeps you from looking at the places in and around you that have to be different.

I deserve better. I will love you deeply and with full sincerity. I will pray for you and with you. I will be your friend and sister in Christ, but I will not be your access to staying comfortable at the cost of inflicting tokenism on me.

I won’t carry that for you. Clean it up on your own. Do the work. Do not expect me to do it for you. Don’t let the lightness of my skin make you think I’m immune to prejudice and racism. Don’t let that make you comfortable in your proximity to me. I will always love every part of who I am.

My husband fully sees me and loves me. He does the work everyday. He is fiercely protective of our biracial children. He is fiercely protective and quick to tell anyone he’s married to a beautiful, Black woman. I know what it means to be fully loved and seen and accepted so I recognize the opposite when I see it.

To not be fully seen is not to be fully known or loved. Do not miss seeing something that’s so beautiful and special about me that you miss seeing me. My Blackness has been an important part of who I have become; it always will be. If you aren’t willing to do that I will ask you to choose to give up any proximity to me. I am BLACK EXCELLENCE, and I want to be seen for it. Fully seen. Fully known. Fully loved.

Bethlehem Baptist Church

Tags

black history, black lives matter, Christian, faith, freedom, Godliness, gratitude, hope, hope in Christ, hurt, kindness, Kingdom Service, Prejudice, racism, Serving, sonship, the gospel, trusting God, unconditional love

My education of Black History came from those who lived it. I will eternally be thankful for them. My understanding of the events of today is seen through what I know. What I learned most of the kids at school next to me never did, and that is such a shame.

Here’s what I know: we have moved forward, but progress isn’t the same thing as equality. If you think it’s okay to stay silent so others can be comfortable and not have to struggle with inequality, you are wrong. We all have a voice. We all have the ability to challenge the status quo and push toward change.

Joseph Lucas taught me so much. He taught us about his son integrating the Dairy King in Big Lake. He taught us about what it was like to be in the military as a black man and the disparity there. He loved his country, but the whole country he served did not love him. He taught me what it meant to be the new principal at a desegregated school and a black man. He taught me what grace it took to work twice as hard for half as much respect you are due.

Alice Lucas taught me grace. She exuded grace in every smile and word. To this day I remember and love the sound of her voice. She taught me what allies are. Rose McWilliams was the reason she was able to be trained as a nurse. Without her, it wouldn’t have happened. Alice Lucas deserved the opportunity, but without Rose McWilliams, she would not have had it.

Margaret Woodard taught me what it was like to be the first black student to attend the high school in Big Lake; because she was first, I could go too. She was scared and nervous, but she took her place in a moment in history that demanded her courage.

Reverend Hoyle Samuel Smith taught me what it meant to overcome in a time that did not create space for him to succeed. He woke up blind one morning as a child, and had to learn to navigate the world without sight all while still being seen. Watching him love everyone without being able to see them for anything but who they were, showed me what love could be.

These people were kind and loving. They were welcoming to all. Despite that, they were not immune to being seen for their skin color though.

They were called Ni——- and every other slur you can think of. They were not immune from intimidation and racism. They were not safe from the danger of just being alive. They were not allowed to just be the wonderful people they were everywhere they went.

Year after year they taught me a history I would not have known. They challenged us to learn about those who came before and contributed great things to the world. You will not find these names in history books.

Many of you may know the same few names you heard year after year. There’s more. There are more stories that we all need to know. No one should be relegated to anonymity just because of their skin color. So many of my ancestors were over and over again.

I’m proud of the example and education they gave me. I know what I know because of these people who loved me and sang hymns next to me. They loved Jesus and the people around them.

It wounds me so deeply that they weren’t always free to worship next to the people and families they loved and served. They couldn’t join white friends for church or lunch at a restaurant after the services. They couldn’t eat a meal in a restaurant next to the white coworkers they prayed for. They couldn’t just be alive.

I will always deeply love them and be thankful. I will always be thankful for who they were to me. Some of these people didn’t know full equality in their lifetime. I hope to know it in mine.

When people were protesting mandatory quarantine, they did it while screaming in officer’s faces. They did it with AR-15s. They did it with anger over being asked to do what was best to slow a global pandemic. They never saw a drop of tear gas or a rubber bullet. Someday we’ll all have the same right, and that will actually mean something more than a sentiment.

ENOUGH

Tags

black lives matter, confederacy, freedom, generational change, justice, racism, slavery, truth

We will never know a better way until we are willing to unlearn what we have always known to open our eyes to the stories of others.

I hate the confederate flag. I see it as a symbol for terrorism. It belongs to a group that fought to subjugate, dehumanize, and enslave my ancestors. Chains. Beatings. Raping. Murdering. My ancestors.

I learned through completing an Ancestry DNA kit, that the majority of my African bloodline and genetics are traced back to Mali. That is on the Ivory Coast. I wonder what a beautiful view my family had before they were ripped from their homeland to be carried across the ocean in conditions not fit for livestock.

My existence here speaks to the fact that the atrocity happened again and again. Taken. Used. Beaten. Displaced. Enslaved. My blood testifies to this first violation. Have you ever researched the developments and advancements that were happening at this time in Africa? Do that.

There were many atrocities that took root is slavery. Hundreds of years worth of injustice came next.

That flag flown by those who took so much pride in that status quo makes me ill. That flag was flown by a group that splintered from my country and killed Americans in the name of creating their own country inside our borders. If a Muslim group of extremists did this after 9/11, there is no way they could fly their flag in remembrance of that time. It is flown here, right down the road from where I live right next to cantaloupe they are selling as well. Like it is normal. Like Americans did not die to defeat this nation of rebellious anarchists.

When they lost the war, they kept hate alive. Burning crosses. Bombing churches. Attaching Black owned businesses, Freedom Riders, and peaceful protestors. Rewriting history through The Daughters of the Confederacy. It was not just White Citizen’s Counsel members doing this; it was law enforcement too. Research the events that took place on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Does that mean all cops are murders? NO! Does that mean we should not acknowledge and bring to justice those who tarnish the badges of those who truly want to protect and serve? NO!

Why is any of that important? People still give their allegiance to it because it is a part of their family history. People in their families were racists so they do not want to condemn racism and their ancestors. They still want to remember the South and the great times and fortunes built. This history is an atrocity. If this is your family history, it is despicable. Condemn it. If you grew up learning that any kind of racism or prejudice is fine, be willing to acknowledge that it is not.

The thing is that if people accept how wrong these things were, they have to look in the dark places they do not want to. They have to acknowledge that their ancestors were racist bigots on the wrong side of history who murdered Americans. They have to see that as wrong. Most people are not willing to acknowledge this. Most people are unwilling to see the part that race has played in building this country.

People treat it like an act of disloyalty to acknowledge that. You are not being disloyal. An ability to reconcile the wrongs of the past and passed generations so that you can do and be better is the only way forward- for all of us.

It must be a privilege to live that way. To pretend the past does not affect today. To live like racism does not exist. Privilege. That seems like an appropriate word for it.

I would now like to quote my husband:

“[We] need to understand what white privilege is not. It is not saying white people all have it easy and don’t work hard for what they do. White privilege is that the world we live in was built by whites at the expense of people of color, and those structures still exist. Having white privilege doesn’t mean I haven’t worked hard to earn my role in this world, and it doesn’t mean I don’t deserve it. These structures were never dismantled. 13th Amendment ended slavery. It didn’t end subjugation or racism. The Civil Rights Act ended legalized segregation. It didn’t end racism or make up for the centuries of whites accumulating wealth and power while people of color were intentionally and systematically prevented from achieving basic human rights. People of color who break through and ‘make it’ are the statistic exception, and not the rule. If the only (or majority of) people of color [we] know are exceptions, then [our] world does not reflect the United States as a whole. That’s the reason Black Lives Matter is hard for white people to grasp typically. They rely on the world experiences they’ve seen and dismiss the experiences and pain of someone who has a wildly different experience. That dismissal is privilege. We don’t HAVE to experience it. I think on this topic [we] need to do some research, and answer some questions like: What is the average net worth of White families? Black families? What is the prison population breakdown of races? How does that compare to the racial breakdown of America? What percentage of whites own homes? People of color? List goes on:
College degrees
Length of prison sentences
Value of property owned
Health outcomes
Life expectancy
Rates of violence
Poverty
Mortality rates in child birth
Population density
Ratios of races in suburb

Seriously, take some time to look up all those things and compare. The objective fact is that when you look at numbers, white people have more and are more successful than people of color. Those ‘numbers’ are people made in the image of God with real hopes and hurts and fears. If we don’t listen to them, we are not respecting or loving them well. After you look at those numbers, ask ‘Why?’ The ‘why’ is the definition of that privilege. For centuries we have been able to expand and accumulate wealth and power while others have been prevented from it. Even if you want to make the argument that ‘That’s all behind us now,’ we have a 400 year head start. To deny that fact is willfully ignorant.”

If we can all unlearn the things that keep us from loving each other, we can get beyond today. If we can all acknowledge the truths of history and learn from them, we will not keep repeating the mistakes of those before us. If we can all live beyond saying racism is wrong, and actually doing something about engaging solutions and ways forward, there is hope for tomorrow.

No more unarmed killings of any people, but today, black people. No more hatred and romanticizing of history. No more. ENOUGH.

Liberty & Justice For ALL

Tags

Ahmad Aubrey, Anxiety, biblical truth, Christian Values, Christian Women, Death Grief, democracy, Family, Fear, freedom, George Floyd, God's love, grief, Healing, hope in Christ, hurt, Kingdom Service, love, Parenting, Prejudice, purpose, racism, raising children, Serving, sin, sonship, the gospel, unity

If your patriotism were on the altar in the temple, Jesus would have overturned it. He isn’t interested in that beyond what He taught you.

He did not teach you to be loyal to political party and agenda above all. He did not teach you to be loyal to any ethnicity above Him. He made us to know Him and enjoy Him forever. He made us to know Him as our highest treasure.

He made all of us. He could have made us all exactly the same, but diversity in His creation show His creativity and heart. That shows His love for all of us.

He did not make people with dark skin so they could be enslaved, beaten, counted as 3/5 a human, subject to Jim Crow, denied basic right, conditioned to believe they were less than, and left without a hope of justice. God’s heart is JUST. All of those atrocities came from the heart of man. We are great at causing devastation and destruction.

These injustices are systemic. They may create a narrative you do not live, but that does not mean that it is not true for others. They are filler in the soil of our country’s foundation.

You may be tired of hearing, “Black Lives Matter.” You ARE NOT more tired of hearing it than we are of saying it. Does that statement deny that all lives matter? No. Does it have to be said? Yes. BLACK LIVES MATTER TOO. BLACK LIVES SHOULD HAVE ALWAYS MATTERED. BLACK LIVES ARE NOT WORTH A MERE 3/5 COMPARATIVELY. It has to be said again and again because equality is still lost to us.

We can jog and be murdered. We can have those who are there to protect and serve weaponized against us through mere deceit. We can peacefully protest and lose everything. It was not just a lady refusing to leash a dog. It was Emmett Till and millions before him. We are terrified to make any mistake. We are afraid to be seen as a threat.

Our lessons to stay safe are different. Our way of life is not free. I am not free from the fear of knowing that while my brother is jogging to exercise, he could be accused to running to break into HIS luxury car. What will happen to him? A Marine. A Veteran. What if someone thinks he is breaking into it? I could be Ahmad’s family. I could be George’s family.

I am so tired of there being debate on this. There is no debate. There is no other opinion for anyone who wants an equal and just world. If you are fine with any of it, you are the problem. You will teach the hatred that has continued and plagued all of man kind. You will live with it. You will not call it out. Tolerating hatred is the same thing as condoning it.

If you hate anyone because of any ethnicity or any reason of difference, you do not love God. You are making the world a worse place for all of us- for my children to grow up in. I love this country, but I do not love what I see it becoming. I do not love the loss of the value of truth. I do not love the loss for the values of right and wrong. I do not love the loss of what justice and liberty mean.

Starve Fear

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Christian, Christian Women, COVID19, Family, Fear, Friendship, God's grace, God's truth, grace, gratitude, hope, hope in Christ, identity in Christ, Kingdom Service, letting go, love, motherhood, pandemic, parenthood, Parenting, prayer, quarantine, raising children, trusting God, Women

I just had a wonderful conversation with a friend about some of the really hard things we’re facing as a global community, but also the hard things that are sitting on her shoulders. It wasn’t wonderful because of the heaviness; it was wonderful because we loved each other through it.

It’s hard not to feel the weight and fear of uncertainty right now. For those of us who struggle with anxiety, it’s real. It’s tangible. It shows up in our bodies. It’s the lump you can’t swallow. It makes your mind spiral. It crushes hope. It makes the worst case scenario seem like the only outcome.

In these moments, I’m thankful for a faith that teaches me truth. In these moments, which are real, I have to remember that the truth is even more real than my fear.

As I cling to truth, I am also pushed toward gratitude. I am reminded to cure those feelings I need to be grateful for what is real and right and good in this moment. Spiraling out and my mind taking me to places filled with the unknown is not the cure.

Focusing on the now. Taking care of what I can control. Finding joy in the moments that aren’t what I had planned but are still sweet. Being so so thankful and grateful for the health in my body and in the bodies of my family. Being thankful for creative ideas being shared. Seeing others rise up for each other.

I know this pandemic will pass. I know that we are living with some of the most brilliant minds that have ever lived. There’s a global push forward and through. We will get through this. As generations before us survived so much without the amazing advances in every societal area, we will make it through.

In the meantime, focus on the now. Be wise and plan the things you need to, but don’t hold those plans too tightly. Be flexible. Breathe. Focus on gratitude. Pray. Never forget that you aren’t alone. None of us are, and we can help encourage each other.

Starve the fear so much that gratitude has more room to grow. Fear dies when you don’t look at it and feed it. It will pass. One quarantined day at a time. ❤️

Explaining Racism

Tags

activists, civil rights, hatred, I have a dream, MLK, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, Prejudice, racism, the gospel

Nothing makes racism sound more absurd than trying to explain it to an 8 year old.

There’s no real way to make something so ridiculous make sense to someone whose mind can’t conceive hating and enslaving and subjugating people because of your own fears and prejudices.

The truth is that hatred, no matter the targeted group, shouldn’t make sense to any of us.

My daughter came home with question after question after learning about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. at school again this year. She couldn’t understand why anyone would kill him for trying to make things equal. She didn’t and couldn’t understand why the world allowed for things to be that way at all.

We have spent the weekend talking about who MLK was historically, but also how who he was makes our family possible today.

Imagine having to explain to your child that your marriage was not legal in the lifetime of their grandparents where you live. Without the work of countless people, I could not have married my husband. Let that sink in.

We couldn’t have attended the same university, church events, or loved each other without there being life-threatening consequences.

It’s something so hard to imagine. It’s something that we want to believe was so long ago, but it wasn’t. The fight for equality and fairness in and under the law has not been attained still, but EVERY STEP FORWARD MATTERS.

Every step matters for the generations who are being born now who will look back at us and see how much more we had than those just one generation before us. One day, we will all be judged solely by the content of our character if we have the boldness to teach that to the generations being raised up.

This is not an easy cycle to break or conversation have, but if it matters, you have to engage it. It’s not nearly enough to say racism is wrong. You have to call it what it is and not be comfortable around it. You have to show your kids what it means to live like it’s wrong beyond what you say.

You have to live like you don’t want there to be any place for it in our world, and if we can do that with courage of conviction, there’s hope that one day, his dream will be fully realized.

Lauren’s Story

Tags

Anxiety, autism, brothers and sisters, children, Christian Women, Developmental delay, Family, Fear, high functioning autism, hope, love, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, raising children, unconditional love, Women

My daughter is the best person I know. She is made of sparkles and sunshine. She is kind and caring and loving, and she’s so incredibly special. She sees people. She’s sensitive, and sensitive to those around her.

She sees her brothers. She plays with them. She makes them laugh. She leads, and a good amount of the time, they follow. They are a team in the best ways they could be.

Lauren wrote a story at school. She had to come up with characters and a plot and weave all the components of a story together to tell the tale she wanted.

In her story, Princess Lauren is locked in a tower by an evil king. In this story, Princess Lauren needs a hero. Of all the people she knows, she picked a hero who would do anything for her. She picked Ethan. Well, she actually picked Prince Ethan.

Why is that important?

It’s important because Lauren doesn’t see Ethan as her little brother who has autism. Lauren sees Ethan for all that he is. He is her friend. He is someone she can trust. He loves her, and he would do anything for his sister. She knows that. She sees him for all that he really is.

In her story, her brother is the hero. He kills the evil king and put his body in water- which is more violence than I expected, but he stopped the threat to his sister and then made sure he couldn’t get to them. He defeated evil. He risked everything in the way every true hero does.

After the defeat of the evil king, Prince Ethan rescues Princess Lauren. They go home where King Daddy, Queen Mommy, and Prince Joshua are waiting for them. They have dinner as a family, and everyone goes to bed safely (after brushing their teeth). They are all together and happy.

Here’s something you may not know about me. I worry about what will happen to my kids when Rob and I are no longer alive. I worry about what Ethan might need and who will help him. I worry about whether or not they will always love each other like they do now. Not all siblings do.

Moments like these allow me to let go of my worry a little. Moments like these remind me of the times I see my kids becoming best friends. Moments like these let me know that they can always be a team that vanquishes anything they come up against. In all the adventures that await them, I know they’ll get through them all. Together.

It’s a real weight to wonder and worry about life after you’re gone to make it good and right and safe for your babies.

If you know someone who has a child with exceptionalities and challenges, would you do something for me? Be their friend. They need people. It all can feel so isolating and lonely. It all can feel so impossible. Take them for a cup of coffee. Send them a text to see how they’re doing.

They may just be waiting to tell someone about why they cried today or about the story their daughter brought home from school that filled them up. Either way, they need the support of not feeling alone in it. For all the friends who do this for me all the time, thank you.

My Weary World…

Tags

Anxiety, Christian, Christian Women, courage, Family, Fear, God's love, Healing, hope, hope in Christ, hurt, identity in Christ, love, motherhood, oh holy night, parenthood, Parenting, prayer, the gospel, trials, unconditional love, weariness, Women

Oh Holy Night is one of my favorite Christmas hymns. I love the melody, the lyrics, and the way it cuts right through me and into the places that need to be reminded.

I feel so connected with this song and to God when I raise my voice to sing it. As the words fill my ears and heart, I’m reminded of what a wonderful birth did for me.

I’m also reminded of one phrase I wish I cherished more. On Christmas there was born a Savior, and “…a new and glorious morn.” The morning breaks the dark sky with light. Darkness is dispelled and conquered by a magnificent, colorful sky. In the same way, Jesus broke all my darkness with the light of hope, but I am not always mindful that is true everyday.

In times of anxiety, in times of restlessness, in times of sickness, in times of acclaim, in times of triumph, EVERY DAY IS A NEW AND GLORIOUS MORN!

I forget that. I forget that when I’m so tired I don’t want to get out of bed. In this long season of sickness I’ve been fighting through, I forget that each day is an opportunity to fall on my knees in my weariness and rejoice. In all things. Through all things, my Savior was born in a stable, died on a tree, and is alive at the right hand of God. He is praying for me.

He knows the hairs on my head so even in every affliction, my preciousness to Him is not lost. In suffering, He knows my name and intercedes for me. When I stumble and end up scraped in bloody fight to get on my feet again, He is singing over me and rejoicing in the fact that I am His.

He has promised to make something beautiful on the other side of the refining fire for my good and His glory.

In my weary world, I can remember that in this focused season of remembering the start of Christ coming to save me, He came knowing what I would be up against. He came knowing how far He would go to defeat it, and He did. In the moments that I feel like His face has turned from me, I am wrong. He endured that so I’d never have to. He is there. He is waiting. He loves me.

I pray that I would have eyes to see that the morning we will celebrate tomorrow is the first that changed everything. With it came “The thrill of hope…” and that hope is mine- in all things, at all times because of that blessed holy night.

Sorrows

Tags

affirmation, Anxiety, biblical truth, Christian, Christian Values, Christian Women, Death Grief, faith, Family, God's grace, God's love, God's truth, grace, gratitude, grief, Healing, hope, hope in Christ, hurt, identity in Christ, love, miscarriage, prayer, pregnancy, the gospel, tragedy, trials, trusting God, truth, unconditional love, Women

Today I’ve been listening to a song over and over. I woke up with it in my heart not knowing God was preparing a balm I would need.

“In all my sorrows, Jesus is better. Make my life believe…”

This is something I didn’t know would be necessary for today. In the heaviness in knowing people you love are suffering, it’s hard to see the truth over the situation beyond the devastation in it.

It has been a devastating day. I have sat frozen, unable to know what to do or think. Then the melody fills that empty seeming space…

He’s better. He is our hope. Today, He’s having to make my heart believe, but He has gone before. He prepared the way. He knew this grief and suffering, and He made a way for Him to be our eternal comfort. He isn’t angry at our needing to be comforted. He is standing by- ready to remind, to restore, to heal, and in that, my heart can believe.

Truly, in Him the anthem is “Glory, glory…” In Him there is something to be eternally grateful for- even if we have to wait until then to hold that and be wrapped up in it for a never-ending love and celebration.

Today, though my heart is better, Jesus is better and bigger, and in that, my soul can rest.

Open Letter from a SPED Parent

Tags

autism, Christian Values, courage, exceptionalities, Fear, God's love, high functioning autism, hope in Christ, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, protecting children, raising children, Serving, special education, special education parenting, sped teachers, trusting God, unconditional love

I am the parent who buys extra Kleenex. I’m the parent who will bring you whatever you need for your classroom. I will show up for parties and field trips.

I’m the parent who stresses and prays all summer for a teacher who has the heart to take the time to see my children for who they are and who will give them a chance. I hope that for every child around them too.

I hope you realize that I am so nervous to entrust them to you. I hope that you realize that I have lost sleep over the idea that because I have a child on spectrum, you may not want him in your class.

This is not true of the teachers I am friends with and for that, I am thankful, but I know these people are out there. These people will never look at Ethan and see his potential; they will only see someone burdensome to deal with.

To the teachers who love kids no matter their challenges and struggles, thank you. Thank you for creating a safe, loving environment where my child can be seen and loved and included. Thank you for wanting them to flourish and grow. Thank you for showing up for him. Thank you for adoring him on the hardest of days. Thank you for showing them the very heart of God by loving them unconditionally.

For those who would try strip any part of his personhood away from him, GO DO SOMETHING ELSE WITH YOURSELF. You do not deserve the honor of knowing him, and you certainly should not have other children entrusted to you. To these people, I hope I never have to know you, but if you ever try to harm my child through your disdain of his presence, you will not succeed.

If you can see a person with an exceptionality in any situation and hate their very existence to the point that you would be disgusted by having to interact with them, you are the worst kind of person and your heart is filled with the kind of hate that makes this world a scary place for my son and for me.

If you are the parent who wonders and hopes that your child will be loved, you are not alone. If you are the parent who ever faces this teacher, stand up for your child, and do not give them an inch of room to degrade your child.