In this three-part editorial series, Jody Harbour, co-founder of Grandmother’s Voice, reflects on reconciliation not as a policy or a government program, but as an act of love. In Part 1, she traces her own awakening — a return to self-love and identity, guided by Grandmother Cedar and the voices of her ancestors. In Part 2, she explores love as the foundation of reconciliation, even when it means choosing the harder path for her family, and carrying dreams that shift with time. In part three, she marks the 10th anniversary of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and calls for reconciliation to mature into a relationship.
Part 3: From reconciliation to relationship
Ten years is a long time in the life of a child. In 10 years, a baby grows into someone who can walk, run, and speak their own truths. Ten years brings scraped knees, first friendships, heartbreaks, and the weight of responsibility. Their moccasins grow larger, their shoes heavier. They learn that each step matters because their steps leave tracks.
ARTICLE CONTINUES BELOW
Ten years have also passed since the Truth and Reconciliation Commission gave us its final report and the 94 Calls to Action. Like a child, Canada has grown in some ways. More people now know the truth of the schools that stole children away. Orange shirts appear every September. Words like “land back” and “treaty” echo in places they were once silenced: an Indigenous renaissance and a national coming of age.
And yet, 10 years on, we must ask: have we truly grown, or are we still standing at the edge of the playground, unsure how to take the next step?
ARTICLE CONTINUES BELOW
Reconciliation is not meant to stay small. It is not meant to be a child forever. It is meant to grow, to stretch, to stumble, to learn, and ultimately, to love. Like a young person coming of age, reconciliation must mature into a relationship.
I think of the natural world, which has always been my teacher. Rivers begin as trickles, playful and light, but with time they deepen, carving valleys, carrying entire landscapes with them. Storms, too, mature — lightning giving way to clear skies that nourish the land. Seasons teach us that nothing stands still. Growth is the law of life. Reconciliation is no different. It cannot remain an idea, a phrase, a box ticked on a form. It must flow, deepen, change us, and bring us back to balance.
ARTICLE CONTINUES BELOW
For Indigenous people, reconciliation has never been abstract. It is carried in our DNA, in the silence of those who never came home, in the aching absence of languages and songs. We carry the pain because we must. And yet, we also carry the medicine — the love that kept us alive, the ceremonies that remind us who we are, the Elders who sit patiently and show us another way.
ARTICLE CONTINUES BELOW
Ten years in, reconciliation asks not only for remembrance but for responsibility. The moccasins no longer fit. The shoes are heavier now. To wear them means accepting that we cannot remain innocent. We know too much. The unmarked graves continue to be uncovered. The stories continue to be told. We cannot un-know them. The question is not whether we will act — it is whether we will love ourselves enough to act with integrity.
Relationship is the next step. Relationship with ourselves, first of all. If we do not reconcile with who we are, we cannot show up for anyone else. That is what I have learned in my own journey: that self-love is the foundation for every other kind of love. It is what allows us to look at the pain without being destroyed by it, to walk the harder path without losing our way.
Relationship also means turning to one another — Indigenous and non-Indigenous — not as strangers, not as opponents, but as relatives. It means walking side by side, stumbling together, rising together, carrying the load together. It means listening not only with our ears but with our hearts, letting the truth change us instead of letting it sit on a shelf.
Ten years is long enough to know what is required. The child has grown. The shoes are heavy, yes, but they are ours. If we refuse to wear them, if we shrink back into the comfort of smaller steps, we will betray not only the children of the past but also the children of today. Those who were in kindergarten when the TRC report was released are in high school now. They are watching us. They will not accept half-steps. They will not accept words without love behind them.
We stand at the threshold of something harder, something truer. Reconciliation has carried us this far. Relationship must carry us the rest of the way. It is time to choose — to step into shoes that may blister us, to walk paths that may exhaust us, to carry love so deeply that it remakes us.
When I was a child, my father told me: “You are Indian, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” At the time, I did not understand the weight of those words. Now I do. They were not just about identity. They were about responsibility. To know who you are is to carry it. To love who you are is to live it.
ARTICLE CONTINUES BELOW
Ten years on, that is the invitation before all of us: to remember who we are, to love ourselves enough to act from that truth, and to walk into relationship with one another, no matter how heavy the shoes may feel. That is how we grow. That is how we heal. That is how we love.
Click here to read Part 1: Reconciliation begins within
Click here to read Part 2: Love as the foundation of reconciliation
A.M. Headlines Newsletter Get our free morning newsletter
Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request.
There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again.
Please enter a valid email address. Sign Up Yes, I’d also like to receive customized content suggestions and promotional messages from Simcoe.com.
You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy. This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply.
A.M. Headlines Newsletter You’re signed up! You’ll start getting A.M. Headlines in your inbox soon.
Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page.
