SLOVENIA'S 5 CORE VALUES

Her real name was nice, but we thought it was too long and complicated. Lizika was simple, warm and kind and her name reflected that.

She was a big woman, not only in stature but also in heart. Her warmth embraced everyone around her, like the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from her oven every morning. In times when bread was not abundant, when pantries were empty, she made sure that stomachs remained full. Every morning she kneaded the dough, kneaded it carefully and baked the loaves, which she then distributed among the villagers. "No one should go hungry for bread", she always said, shaking the hands of those who felt uncomfortable because they could not give anything in return.

Her husband spent most of his life in Germany, working for every dinar he sent home. Lizika was alone most of the time, but never lonely. We children surrounded her every day, happy and curious, knowing that she would greet us with a wide smile and a warm loaf of bread. Weekends were especially magical. That was when her husband returned from abroad, bringing with him sweets that were not available in our shops. Chocolate, chocolates, biscuits in beautiful boxes - things that for many people in the village were only a dream. Lizika distributed the sweet treats among us and laughed as we children admired them with big eyes, as if we were holding a treasure in our hands.

She was a person who never judged. She never asked why someone didn't have, why someone asked, why someone came every day. All she knew was that she could give - and giving made her immensely happy. Many wondered whether she would not have preferred to keep more for herself, as she was not rich, but her heart was of a different opinion. "Goodness is not measured by how much you have, but by how much you can give," she once said to an old neighbour who reproached her for sharing too much.

The years have passed, the children have grown up, but Lizika has remained our bright spot. When she closed her eyes for good fifteen years ago, the whole village stood in silence. We lost someone who was not just a neighbour, not just a woman from the street. She was a mother to those who did not have one, a friend to those who were lonely, a hope to those who had lost it long ago. She was our sun, our fairy godmother, our angel.

Before we were her angels, now she is ours. Every time we smell fresh bread, we remember her and her goodness. And if we ever meet someone who is hungry - either for bread or for love - let us remember Lizzie and offer what we can without hesitation. That is how she lives on, in us and through us.

Zala Krupljan, 19. 3. 2025