In his 2005 commencement address to graduates at Stanford University, Steve Jobs said, “for 33 years I’ve looked in the mirror every day and asked myself ‘if today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’”

In less than a week I’ll be marking 81 years on Planet Earth and somewhat like the renowned co-founder of Apple, I have begun asking myself a question. My question is “am I walking on a worthy path?” To this question I add, “am I making a positive difference in the lives of others, of my community? Would I select the same path again?”

I’m very aware there have been missteps I regret but cannot change. I also know I’ve been extraordinarily blessed with mentors who pointed me in a good direction. One such individual was Anna Braun, a resident at Menno Hospital when my father was there.

Anna was a short, slightly plump little lady, then in her eighties. Born in Ukraine of Mennonite parents, she had experienced Stalin’s starvation policies. Some in her village had died of hunger. Others had been sent to the Gulag, the USSR’s notorious prison system. Most of these had not been heard from again. Knowing they could expect only persecution, starvation and death, Anna and her mother fled with the German Wehrmacht when it was routed by the Soviet Red Army.

Known for their experience and skill in agriculture, many Mennonites were permitted entry into Canada. Anna and her mother were among them. They settled in Abbotsford, where they worked on a raspberry farm.

Anna was confined to a wheelchair when I met her. She had suffered a broken back and other injuries when she climbed into a cherry tree. The branch she was perched on broke.

Day after day she now sat in her wheelchair in the large common area of Menno Hospital. Often I crouched at her side and she spoke to me in her mother tongue, a Low German dialect. My forebears had emigrated from the same area in 1874 and Low German was my language until I began attending school. I still retained enough of the language to understand much of what she said. I was impressed that although she could do almost nothing for herself, she smiled often and refused to slip into a spirit of discontent. Her face and voice exuded joy. Although she knew the sands of time in her personal hour glass were flowing swiftly to the end, she continued to diligently plant positive, life changing seeds in those who entered her limited sphere of influence. After our brief chats, I invariably felt uplifted.

Having attained the eighth decade myself, I’m very aware that my own strength is ebbing. My vision has deteriorated to where I frequently need Linda’s help dealing with computer challenges. Others who are my age are also grappling with health and other issues. Parkinson’s recently took down a valued friend. Another friend has totally lost his eyesight. Dementia has stolen the understanding of several friends.

Like Steve Jobs who passed away October 5, 2011, I’m becoming increasingly aware that I must not fritter away my days. If I want to accomplish something important, I must do it today. Like Anna I want to invest my time not in accumulating wealth, but in enriching the lives of others. Even now, when I think of her I’m reminded of the African proverb which says, “you plant a tree so your grandchildren can sit in the shade.”

Although Anna was totally dependent on others, she left an indelible imprint on my life. One day after a visit with her, she grasped my hand firmly as I was about to leave. Drawing me close, she prayed for me in her mother tongue. I walked away deeply impacted, wondering what had prompted the prayer. Did she have a premonition that this would be our final visit?

When I returned two days later, Anna wasn’t at her usual station in the common area. I found her in her room, in a coma. A young granddaughter was sitting at her bedside. Anna was at the end of her sojourn on earth. We wouldn’t talk again, but her joy and wisdom had inspired me to think not only of how I can enrich my own life, but also the lives of others.