When I work with individuals and families, I talk a lot about attachment. It’s the foundation for how we navigate life. Everybody’s goal should be to achieve earned secure attachment—the capacity to give care, receive care, negotiate needs, and be ok with autonomous self. Personally, I’ve been working very hard on this for a very long time, striving for these character traits to define who I am. My identity is as a daughter of the king of kings Jesus, He defines me and has determined my worth.
Recently, I had a moment where this might be solidified in my security of who I am.
A very special grandson of mine told me this past week, “You smell like a flower that a rhino pooped on.”
Do you find yourself in the same place week after week with your child?
“I’m tired of the way they make me feel like I’m a ___.” (Fill in the blank.)
The struggle is not with your child; it’s with you. Hard words—but nobody can make you feel anything. What you’re hearing is an echo—an echo from your own story, carried through time, reminding you of a place, a soul wound, that needs to be refined.
If there’s anything in those words that ring true. I’m here to help you uncover why are you think and feel like you do. Together, we will uncover the authentic you.
I’ve been working with a family for about half a year now. When I first met Mom, she really wasn’t connected to her son. During our first visit, she leaned in and was teachable —bringing her son close, holding his hands, and speaking to him while looking into his eyes.
Here’s the thing about this little boy: he is on the spectrum and, for the most part, nonverbal.
As time went on, Mom was having some challenges during bath time, specifically with him wanting to get out of the bathtub. I introduced a visual timer—a simple tool to help kids see time moving. Many children with complex trauma don’t have an internal sense of time, so this visual support regulating. The timer ended up staying in their bathroom.
In the last couple of weeks, her son came home from school extremely hungry. Mom had already started cooking and told him, “The food is cooking. It’ll be done soon.” Her little boy went into the bathroom, grabbed the timer, and set it so he could see how long it would take.
What a beautiful win.
To see this child—who has been locked inside his own body and mind, with very few words to communicate—use a tool to express his need and help his mom understand him is incredibly powerful. When given the opportunity, he was able to share, to see, and to let his mom know what he needed.
I love my work. I love seeing the wins. I’m grateful for this season, and grateful for all the trials that allow me to help families find freedom, healing, and hope.
It’s in the little moments when, all of a sudden, a breakthrough happens. I have a beautiful story about a little boy who doesn’t have words. His mom shared a wonderful, moving experience with her son. She and another caregiver were driving in the car with him in the backseat. He was diligently playing on his iPad while Mom and the other caregiver were having a conversation about her husband. I don’t know the depth of what the conversation was about—and it doesn’t matter in this situation.
What is most significant is that, as they mentioned Dad’s name, this little boy—who hasn’t spoken in the context of anything going on around him—simply said, “Papa.” As Dad’s name was mentioned, he spoke. There’s a breakthrough happening. It’s a beautiful thing.
I love that I get to be a part of these stories. The things that some may see as small and insignificant are massive for these families. They’ve lived in secondary trauma, not knowing what to do for years. They are working with Integrated Sensory in Green Bay getting the physical needs met, and now addressing the relational needs through Trust-Based Relational Intervention®️, healing has begun. Connection has begun.
“I see your blushing cheeks opened like the halves of a pomegranate shown through your veil of tender meekness. When I look at you, I see your inner strength so stately and strong you are secure as David’s fortress your virtues and grace to cause 1000 famous soldiers to surrender to your beauty. Your pure faith and love rest over your heart as you nurture those who are yet infants.” (Song of Songs 4 TPT paraphrase mine.)
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This season has brought me to a place of shifting—to go deeper with Holy Spirit to discover what pure intimacy with my Creator truly looks like. There is a space where I see the words as they are spoken and hear them echo throughout my soul. My Creator sees me this way. My Creator speaks to me this way, engages me this way, and loves me this way—with a knowing of all of me and a tenderness that I melt into His arms of protection and love.
I’d love to tell you about a family. There is a lot of extended family involved, but in this case, it’s a grandma raising her grandson. It’s a hard story. When I met them, Grandma was preparing to have her grandson come live with her full-time. I began teaching her TBRI® before he moved in. He was coming out of some very hard places.
At nine years old, he had explosive behaviors. Rage would overtake him when he became dysregulated. His fight response kicked in—he mostly hit walls and doors and threw things. His grandma has been diligent in learning TBRI®️. She worked through her own story and how it was impacting her relationships, not only with her grandson but with everyone around her.
Those big behaviors began to fade quickly, though they would still surface from time to time. Then this past fall, something happened. This little boy—now in a man’s body, though only eleven—didn’t go into rage when he became dysregulated. There was no yelling, screaming, hitting, throwing, kicking, or punching. Instead, he sat down in the grass and began to cry.
The tears were hard, but something was changing inside him. His capacity to experience feelings is increasing. He’s learning to understand what he needs and to use his words. In that moment, he was able to be met with love in a whole new way, as his body’s capacity to regulate continues to grow.
I am so grateful to walk alongside families and teach them what it truly means to meet their children where they are at. Connection is everything. I have seen many miracles over the last seven years. This work is a beautiful, humbling, and honoring space—to walk with people in this way, the way of love.
I never considered myself a writer, but one day back in 2017 everything changed. It felt like I received a download straight from the Holy Spirit—a story that I just had to share. Originally, I wrote it in a craft-store journal and made some copies for my nieces, nephews, friends and my children.
A few years later, after attending the Making Sense of Your Worth and Anchored training, I felt challenged to take that work and publish it. I realized it was good enough. That started a journey that led to the book being published in 2020.
Since then, it has been revised and updated, along with a Spanish version. You can get a copy of both of them on Amazon.
There was a season in my life when everything felt unbearably hard. The world I thought I knew was crumbling—truths I had clung to proved false, and all I could see was emptiness. Beauty seemed lost to me. I was drowning in pain, unable to move beyond what I was facing.
One day, someone prayed with me, asking the Holy Spirit to help. I could barely hold on; the hurt was overwhelming. Then, in a single, unexpected moment—while sitting in a parking lot in my car—I felt as though I left my body. Suddenly, I was transported into a place I now know as the Lord’s presence. The Holy Spirit consumed me with unconditional love.
I can’t fully describe it, but I remember the intensity of yellow swirling around me, vibrant and alive. As she prayed for the oil of joy to fill me, I experienced it—oil flowing out of that yellow swirling consuming unconditional love. In that instant, everything changed. My spirit awakened.
From that day forward, the Holy Spirit began to reveal truth to me—not my truth, but His. That encounter became the turning point, pulling me out of the unbearable pain and setting me on a journey of walking in truth and love. It was as if a spark ignited a flame deep within me—a flame that awakened the creator inside me.
Drawing and painting returned to my life, not just as hobbies, but as a way to cope, to process, and to move through the truth that was unfolding before me. Each stroke of my pencil or brush felt like a prayer, each image a reflection of grace. In that sacred moment, despair lifted, and I began to breathe again.
Jesus, in Luke 22:17–18, shares with His disciples that His time with them is drawing to a close, saying He will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes. This statement points to a future fulfillment and underscores the significance of the moment. The “fruit of the vine” symbolizes the life that flows from Christ, as John 15 explains: Jesus is the true vine, and the Father is the vinedresser. When we abide in Him, we bear much fruit—evidence of His presence within us. Though pruning may seem difficult, it is meant to make us healthier and more fruitful, multiplying His work through us. In this way, our lives become a product of His life, and His presence in us enables growth and transformation.
There is a place of learning, a quiet walk in the Spirit, where unconditional love—love only He can give—becomes the air you breathe. In that sacred stillness, questions rise: What does it mean to be truly known? What does intimacy with Him, my creator, look like? It is more than words, more than ritual. It is leaning into Him, letting His voice speak into the silence, into the deep places of the soul where longing lives.
In the Song of Songs, chapter one, He whispers: Jodi Lynn, you are like a bouquet henna blossoms, plucked near the vine at the fountain of the Lamb. I will hold you and never let you part.”(TPT)
It is an image of my life at its source. He is redefining the very essence of who I am.
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