Being a third generation Canadian has always been a great source of pride for me. We now have 5 such generations in our family and we marvel at our great, good fortune.

Attending the Indigenous Health Summer Gathering this week has tempered my pride somewhat by illuminating what my good fortune has cost the Indigenous inhabitants of this land throughout the past 150 years.

Since I try to use every learning experience as an opportunity for personal growth  I  have been thinking of how this could  apply to a myriad of complex and personal situations.

I found this poem most inspirational  and hope that you will too.

The last word has not been spoken,

the last sentence has not been written,

the final verdict is not in.

It is never too late

to change my mind,

my direction,

To say no to the past and yes to the future,

to offer remorse,

and to ask and give forgiveness.

It is never too late

to start over again,

to feel again

to love again

to hope again.

It is never too late

to overcome despair,

to turn sorrow into resolve,

to pain into purpose.

I was recently asked to speak to the members of a Retirement Residence about the Jewish New Year. I began by asking them to think back over their long lives and imagine the most eventful New Year they had ever spent. I asked them to try to recall what they were wearing, who they were with, if they were at a party or a dance and  of the fun they were having. Had they had a bit too much to drink? How had they felt the next morning?

After  a few minutes of considering my words, I told them that the Jewish New Year is the opposite of those memories.