Leadership
January 30, 2026
Mentors: The People Who See You Before You See Yourself
Lori Ennis
Founder & CEO
In memory of David Wells
Lately, my mentor David has been on my mind—a lot.
We’re nearing the one-year anniversary of losing David Wells, and something has been happening that feels both tender and uncanny: people keep bringing him up to me. And almost every time, it’s when I’ve been thinking, I could really use a David chat right now.
If you’ve ever had a mentor like that, you know what I mean. A true mentor isn’t just career advice. It’s perspective. It’s steadiness. It’s the voice that helps you remember what matters most.
The mentor who found me early
I met David in my first job out of college—in my first store. It was small and not visited all that often. He was a district coordinator, and it would’ve been easy for him to just “do the rounds.”
But David did something different.
He paid attention.
He got to know me quickly, and he took me under his wing. Over the years, as both of our careers grew and changed, his encouragement, honesty, and advice became a foundation in my life and career.
David retired as a Vice President, and I watched him make choices rooted in values—not optics. He chose his family first, even when it may have been a detriment to his career. That kind of clarity is rare.
And that’s one of the reasons mentors matter: they don’t just teach you how to succeed. They show you how to succeed without losing yourself.
What mentors really give us
Mentors do a few priceless things:
They see potential before you fully see it in yourself
They tell the truth when it would be easier to say nothing
They open doors and teach you how to walk through them with integrity
They help you make decisions through the lens of values, not just advancement
They leave you with lessons that come back years later—right when you need them
David did all of that.
And when I reflect on what he gave me, I keep coming back to these life lessons—ones I’m still practicing.
Life lessons David taught me
Show up for others.
Understand what’s most important in your life- and make sure they guide your decisions and actions.
Answer the phone. Respond to the text.
Recognize talent and invest in it.
Stretch people.
Set high expectations—and let people rise to them. And when they do: promote them in public and behind the scenes.
Get outdoors.
Laugh.
Say yes—help your community and the people in your life.
The Good Samaritan and a legacy of “yes”
When David passed, his pastor compared him to The Good Samaritan.
I’ve found myself reading and re-reading Luke 10:25–37, especially this: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart… and your neighbor as yourself.”
David lived that in a way that was practical and real. He didn’t just talk about caring for people. He showed it through choices, time, attention, and follow-through.
David showed me—and so many others—what it means to live and love well in this world.
And he’s deeply missed.
Why mentorship matters (at every stage)
If you’re early in your career, you might think mentorship is a “nice to have.” If you’re established, you might think you’ve outgrown the need.
But here’s what I’ve learned: we never outgrow mentorship. We just need different kinds at different stages.
Mentorship helps us:
grow faster without learning every lesson the hard way
stay grounded when ambition crowds out meaning
make decisions aligned to values
build healthier leadership cultures—because what you model multiplies
Two simple invitations
As I think about David and the legacy he left, I come back to two invitations:
1) If you have a mentor: Tell them what they’ve changed for you. I was fortunate enough to tell David the impact he had on my life—and to thank him. Call them. Text them. Don’t wait for the “right time.”
2) If you can be a mentor: Notice someone early. Encourage them out loud. Give honest feedback with kindness. Set high expectations because you believe they can meet them. Make time for them.
Carrying it forward
To have left a legacy means that those who were blessed to have you in their lives get the chance—and the responsibility—to carry something forward.
David’s legacy isn’t just what he accomplished. It’s how he lived. How he showed up. How he chose people. How he said yes.
And if I can invest in others the way he invested in me, then I’m honoring the best of what he gave.
Who has been that person for you? And who might be quietly hoping you’ll notice them next?