THE SPARK
The Village It Takes began with my lifelong obsession with stories — messy, beautiful, heartbreaking, hilarious stories — and how they shape who we are. At eleven, I became the youngest babysitter in my neighborhood, proudly carrying a pink Jansport bag stuffed with Band-Aids and craft supplies. That spark — of caring for children and learning through play — never left me.
THE PATH
I studied sociology and restorative justice at DePaul University in Chicago, drawn to the stories behind complex behavior in children and adults alike. Alongside my studies, I worked in childcare, soccer coaching, and student ministry, spending time in more than 120 homes, 25 schools. Each family taught me something new while reinforcing what I was learning to be true every time: that kids are brilliant, parents are doing their best with their unique set of resources and variables. I learned that staying regulated enough to support or "train" another nervous system do follow suit is some of the hardest, most important work there is.
THE MESSY
MIDDLE
My 20s took place during the 2020s, where several years of the COVID-19 pandemic rocked our world, as did the Donald Trump Presidency, and important historical movements and uprisings including Black Lives Matter, No Kings Day, and global genocide and war in Ukraine and Palestine.
Personally, my 20s were filled with learning the hard way: heartbreaks, job changes, debt, therapy, misplaced trust, and Personally, I experienced family turmoil including divorce, two cancer diagnoses, and addiction; and several identity journeys, including learning I am queer and coming out; untethering or "deconstructing" Through it all, I held on to one thing — storytelling as a way to process, heal, and grow. I discovered that imperfection and messiness weren’t flaws but raw materials for connection.
THE VILLAGE
IT TAKES
TVIT is my attempt to slow down the chaos of life into activities, events, and stories we can share and learn from together. I create Storybooks, workshops, and consulting spaces where individuals and families can reflect, celebrate, grieve, imagine, problem-solve, and build new narratives. I believe that telling our stories — through art, play, and words -- whether written on a private page or told publicly into a microphone — is one of the bravest and most healing things we can do.