Our End State: Liberated Authenticity

As I sat in that dimly lit auditorium, I couldn’t keep my eyes on the stage. My son, just a few rows ahead, was shifting, chatting, and drawing the frustrated looks of everyone around him. My heart sank. I knew what was coming—the stares, the whispers, the “your son is disruptive” comments. I wanted to shout, “Please, just sit still!” But why? Was I more worried about him… or everyone else?