Letters.

Do you save letters? I have saved nearly every letter I have ever received from the time I was a little girl. I have filled boxes and boxes and boxes to their brims over the years. I have purged a couple of times when I've run out of storage space, but I always start over again.

I've only gone through the boxes a couple of times to re-read some of the letters – usually when it's time to purge. I could get lost in them for hours. Reading them makes me realize how indescribably, unbelievably blessed I am to have people in my life who have loved me and encouraged me through the years. To read them in mass overwhelms me with gratitude.

Last week I came across a letter from my mom dated back to 1997. I was working at my first advertising internship at a small agency. I was on top of the world after being offered that internship, and it also happened to be my first real taste of how tough the world of advertising really is. Having your work constantly critiqued, having clients who seemed to enjoy barking orders rather than valuing a true partnership, unreasonable deadlines, crazy late nights to meet some of those deadlines, always staying two steps ahead of the game, making sure that both your client and your creative team feel valued and heard while fighting like mad to ensure the integrity of the work and the brand aren't compromised, and the list goes on. I never fully realized the stress of my career until I quit to stay home with Alex. The "weightlessness" was a welcomed change, even though I had thrived on the stress and the thrill of building strong brands.

I loved my job. But getting there was fraught with tough lessons. So the internship... One afternoon, I decided to ask the agency's creative director to review some of the work I had done in one of my college classes. It was one of the harshest reviews I had ever had. I was crushed. I probably called my mom in tears. And likely questioned my career path.

One of the things I so respect and appreciate about my mom is that she is a truth teller. And everyone needs a truth teller in their lives. When I say "truth teller," I'm not just talking about people who are honest. I'm talking about people who are honest and brave enough to tell you what you need to hear, not just what you want to hear.

Her letter to me – the one I still have from 1997 – was the perfect combination of encouragement and truth telling. And I tell you, it was just the kind of thing to make me pick myself back up again, appreciate the fact that a different perspective from another person can often make for better ideas all around, and charge forward having grown just a little thicker skin than I had the day before. And over time, I came to realize that having good people critique your work isn't about a personal attack. It's often because they want to push you to be better.

Mom, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for believing in me. And for helping me to see value in the tough lessons and the tough critiques. And for always telling me that I would survive and thrive in all of my endeavors. Every success I've had came from the foundation of strength and confidence you helped build in me. I love you. 

"Let everything you say be good and helpful so that your words will be an encouragement to people." – Ephesians 4:29