My father was 44 and knew he wasn't going to make it to 45. He wrote me a letter and hoped that something in it would help me for the rest of my life.
Since the day I was 12 and first read his letter, some of his words have lived in my heart. One part always stands out. "Right now, you are pretending to be a time-killer. But I know that one day, you will do something great that will set you among the very best." Knowing that my dad believed in me gave me permission to believe in myself. "You will do something great." He didn't know what that would be, and neither did I, but at times in my life when I've felt proud of myself, I remember his words and wish he were here so I could ask, "Is this what you were talking about, Dad? Should I keep going?"
A long way from 12 now, I realize he would have been proud when I made any progress. Lately, though, I've come to believe he'd want me to move on to what will come next: to be proud of and believe in, somebody else. It's time to start writing my own letters to my children. As mothers, our children look to us with the same unanswered question we had. Our kids don't retreat because they're afraid to fail. They're only afraid of failing us. They don't worry about being disappointed. Their fear—as mine was until my father's letter—is of being a disappointment.
Give your children permission to succeed. They're waiting for you to believe in them. I always knew my parents loved me. But trust me: That belief will be more complete, that love will be more real, and their belief in themselves will be greater if you write the words on their hearts: "Don't worry; you'll do something great." Not having that blessing from their parents may be the only thing holding them back.
