Their Lives Are Not Disposable: A Call to Prevention

There are some stories that sit heavy on your heart.

Not because you witnessed it or read up on every detail. But because somewhere in the middle of the headline, the police report, the social media posts, the missing person flyer, the candlelight vigil, and the comment section . . . there is a child.

There is a future that many caregivers, teachers, mentors, and friends expected to see unfold.

There is a life . . . There is a family . . . There is somebody's baby.

In my work, I spend a lot of time thinking about young people. Not just their behavior, intelligence, or their lifelong potential. I think about their lives - their actual lives. The lessons they are still learning. The parts of themselves they are still becoming. The dreams they have not yet dreamt. 

I consider the parents who still look at them and see the toddler they once held. The grandparents who still pray over them, (but let them get away with things we never could). The aunts and uncles who spoil them way too much. Their siblings who are eager to irritate them as soon as they come home. The friends who they’ll love, hate, then love again, time after time.

When I read about the recent deaths of these children, many of them right here along the gulf coast, my heart hurt for their families, their friends, their teammates, and every person who was hoping for a different ending. I felt that familiar grief that comes when tragedy is no longer somewhere far away. 

It is close. It is personal. It is part of the community we have been called to serve.

While many of these tragedies are comparable in circumstances, we know that every story does not have the same cause. Every young person who loses their life did not “make bad choices.” Every family grieving today does not need a lecture on parenting, especially from people who do not know the full facts.

Grief deserves tenderness. 

Families deserve dignity. 

Children and young adults deserve to be remembered as whole people, not reduced to the worst or most confusing moment surrounding their untimely death.

Nevertheless, we are living in a time when too many adolescents are engaging in high-risk behaviors, dangerous conflicts, impulsive decisions, unsafe gatherings, reckless peer pressure, substance use, online performance, and emotionally charged moments that can change everything in seconds. Unfortunately, the vast majority of society has accepted this to be a new normal; shrugging our shoulders and saying, “That is just how young people are nowadays.”

But I refuse to subscribe to that notion. 

Young people are supposed to make mistakes. They are supposed to learn. They are supposed to test boundaries. They are supposed to ask questions, grow in wisdom, and mature over time just like we did.

They are not supposed to die before they get the chance to become who they were created to be.

They are not supposed to lose their lives because someone could not walk away from a conflict.

They are not supposed to be caught in the crossfire of someone else’s anger.

They are not supposed to vanish with hundreds of people around.

They are not supposed to become hashtags, memorial posts, or breaking news alerts.

They are supposed to live, and do it to the fullest!

At The Auspice Academy, we teach about communication, leadership, emotional intelligence, adaptability, and responsibility because these are not soft skills. . .

THEY ARE LIFE SKILLS. 

They are relationship skills. They are decision-making skills. They are workplace skills. They are future forming skills. They are parenting skills. They are community serving skills. They are survival skills.

Because, a young person who knows how to pause before reacting is safer.

A young person who knows how to walk away from a conflict is stronger.

A young adult who knows how to say, “This situation is not worth my life,” is wiser.

A child who knows how to choose the right environment is more prepared.

A kid who understands consequences is not weak. They are awake.

Because consequences are not limited to the person who makes the decision.

Consequences travel.

They start at the moment of tragedy, affecting all who witnessed it.

They move from the scene to the hospital, distressing the responders who couldn’t save them.

They move from the hospital to the family group chat.

They move from the group chat to the mother who falls to the floor.

To the father who goes silent because he does not know how to process the pain.

To the grandparents who can do nothing but pray.

To the sibling who keeps walking past an empty bedroom.

To the classmates who are expected to sit in school and focus like nothing happened.

To the coach who saved the last game jersey.

To the teacher who remembers the last conversation.

To the community that can no longer cheer for them on the field.

They move to the next child who wonders whether living long is even something they should expect.

One reckless decision can create a lifetime of grief for people who were not even present when the decision was made.

One weapon in the wrong hands can create generations of trauma.

One argument that should have ended with distance can end with a funeral.

One night of trying to prove something can leave a family with questions they will never fully answer.

One moment of “I don’t care” can become years of “I wish I had” . . .

Because life requires us to think further than the next moment.

We have to help young people build the habit of thinking before the emotion takes over, because while emotions are very real, they are not always reliable leaders. Anger will tell you to act right now and worry about the consequences later. Pride will tell you not to back down, but show them what you’re really made of. Fear will tell you to follow the crowd and engage in hate and humiliation, so you don’t stand alone. Embarrassment will tell you that your reputation matters more than your safety. Grief will tell you not to care about anything or anyone, anymore. Hurt will tell you to hurt someone back.

But wisdom says, “Pause. I can be upset and still make a responsible decision.”

Emotional maturity says, “I do not have to turn a temporary emotion into a permanent consequence.”

Integrity says, “I will not let others influence me to go against what I know is right.”

These are the messages our children need to hear repeatedly.

I strongly believe that just like in our work-life, we must become experts in creating safe spaces in our home-life, where our kids can talk honestly about pressure, anger, grief, fear, and belonging. We must equip them with discernment and normalize language like…

“I need to leave, take me home”

“This is getting out of hand, I’m calling my parents”

“I don’t do things like that, that’s not who I am”

“This is not worth it, I don’t feel safe”

Most importantly, we must teach our children that “NO” is a complete sentence. 

We know that this type of language saves lives and the work that we do helps children practice and normalize them, before they need to use them. We are here to help them build the internal tools that they need when life becomes complicated, and escalates quickly.

We help them understand that their life is connected to everyone around them.

They belong to a family, even if that family is imperfect.

They belong to a community, even if that community is still healing.

They belong to a future, even if that future feels unclear.

They belong to a purpose, even if they have not fully discovered it yet.

To every parent grieving, worrying, or holding your child a little closer after reading another headline, my heart is with you.

To every young person who has lost a sibling, a cousin, a friend, I am sorry.

To every educator, coach, mentor, and youth worker who feels the weight of trying to guide this generation, do not give up.

To every community leader who is tired of attending meetings after the fact, and wants to build something that works before tragedy, please, keep showing up.

And to every young person reading this, please, hear me.

You are not just “a kid.”

You are not just “a teenager.”

You are not just “a friend.”

You are not just “a follower.”

You are not just “a student.”

You are not just “an athlete.”

You are not just “a content creator.”

You are not just “a name in a news story.”

You are a life.

A precious, valuable life.

And this world needs you to live.

There are people who need your voice, your wisdom, your growth, your leadership, your creativity, your laughter, your presence, and your future.

So value your life.

Value the lives of others.

Think beyond the moment.

Walk away when you need to.

Ask for help when you need it.

Choose wisdom.

Choose your future.

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We cannot control the circumstances that lead to every tragedy. We cannot prevent every loss. We will never know every detail behind every heartbreaking story. But we can teach. We can prepare. We can guide. We can listen. We can intervene.

We can create safer conversations and help our children build stronger decision-making skills.

We can help young people understand that each and every life is valuable before the world tries to convince them otherwise. 

We must, and we will.

Because I refuse to keep losing our children to cruelty and violence. 

If you stand in agreement, we need your help. The work of prevention cannot sit on the shoulders of one organization, one school, one parent, or one program. It takes all of us. Let us know how you want to be a part of the solution.