Twenty years of showing up for families. Twenty years of building trust, crafting service plans, solving problems.
He was well-liked, respected, and known for getting things done. Families responded to him because he cared. He worked fast. He had answers. He drove the plan, and he got results. Or so he thought.
So when his agency announced they were shifting to MiiWrap, Lamar’s first reaction was simple: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
He didn’t see the need. His outcomes were “good enough.” His relationships with families were strong. And besides, the idea of giving up control, or letting families lead their own planning, felt risky.
What if they went in the wrong direction? What if it got messy? What if they didn’t know what they needed?
He sat through the training. He took notes. But internally, he was dismissive.
These are reasonable questions. Lamar wasn’t resistant because he didn’t care; he was resistant because he did.
During a routine case consult, his coach, Tanisha, didn’t try to talk him out of his skepticism. She didn’t offer a counterargument. Instead, she asked a quiet question:
“What do you think would happen if we paused your suggestions and let the mom explore what’s most important to her, even if it’s not what you’d pick?”
He hesitated. But he agreed to try.
In a meeting with a mom named Shandra, instead of offering his usual checklist of referrals and recommendations, Lamar said:
“You’ve lived this. What do you think would make the biggest difference for your son right now?”
Shandra looked at him and said:
“I think he needs to see that I can be okay first. If I’m a mess, he’s a mess.”
That moment was a gut punch. Lamar realized he had been working so hard to fix the child’s behavior, he hadn’t even thought to ask what mattered most to the person who knew him best: his mother.
The team shifted course. They focused on supporting her stability. And things started to move, not because of a new service, but because of a new focus.
Over the next few months, Lamar didn’t just “use MiiWrap,” he embraced it.
And he noticed something he never expected: “Families were coming up with better ideas than I ever had on my own.”
One youth, who had been suspended multiple times, came up with a plan to launch a peer mentorship group. Lamar had been planning to advocate for an alternative school placement. The youth’s solution? It worked better, and built leadership skills in the process.
Today, Lamar is one of the agency’s strongest MiiWrap champions. He mentors new facilitators. He co-leads behavioral rehearsals. He’s a vocal advocate for the power of family-driven planning.
Not because it’s easier. Not because it lets practitioners off the hook. But because it works better, and because it’s more honest.
In his words: “I didn’t lose my expertise, I learned how to use it better. MiiWrap didn’t just change my work. It changed how I listen, how I lead, and how I see people. I wish I had known this 20 years ago.”
Whether you’re a caseworker, supervisor, or agency director, Lamar’s journey holds up a mirror. Because chances are, your staff includes people just like him:
MiiWrap changes that.
Not by replacing good practitioners, but by making them great.
Not by stripping away control, but by putting it where it belongs: in the hands of families.
Not by doing more, but by doing what matters most.
If your current model is “working,” ask yourself:
For organizations, MiiWrap offers more than tools and templates. It provides a framework for transformation:
Lamar’s story is powerful not because it’s unique, but because it’s common. The shift he made is possible for anyone. The results he saw are available to every agency bold enough to trust the process.
Let Lamar’s story be your nudge.
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