I can only think of the many men and women I met during my fourteen years as a jail chaplain here in New Mexico. No one taught them the necessary impulse control and delay of gratification, which is the job of a good parent. With poor identity, weak boundaries, or little inherent sense of their dignity, they allowed themselves to be destroyed—and to destroy others—by drugs, promiscuity, addictive relationships, alcohol, violence, or abuse. Then the enforced and cruel order of the jail was supposed to serve as their reparenting course, but now the lesson was so much harder to learn because of
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