My godmother was not only a skilled housekeeper, but also a person with a big heart and a sparkle in her eyes. Wherever there was the smell of home-cooked food, baking and warm smiles, there she was too.
She baked with her heart and soul. Every pastry and every loaf of bread that came from her hands carried a part of her warmth. She was actively involved with the farm women, helping to preserve the tradition of home baking. She also ran workshops for children, where she patiently taught little hands how to shape buns, doughnuts and biscuits.
"Baking is not just a job," she often said, lightly tapping the table with a hand full of flour. "Baking is a love you share. And when you bake bread, you also bake warmth for someone else."
But Mary's goodness was not only for those who had much. She knew that there was a family in the village that was more stung than caressed by life. Poverty sat at their table, and so often they did not even have enough for a piece of bread.
Mary did not remain indifferent to this. Every morning she baked something more - a fragrant loaf of bread, a sweet roll, some biscuits. Then she put it all in a basket and quietly walked towards their house.
"Here you are," she said gently, standing in front of their door. "Something for today to keep your tummies full and your hearts a little less heavy."
At first they were shyly welcomed, but with each new day, her arrival was more expected and welcomed. Soon the children were waiting for her at the door, as happy as if a real fairy tale creature had arrived. "Aunt Mary, what have you brought us today?" they shouted, jumping around her.
"Look, here's one for you," she laughed, pushing a freshly baked loaf or sweet biscuit into their hands. "Because every child deserves a little sweetness in their life."
She never accepted payment, never demanded recognition. She believed that her mission was simply to share what she knew and had.
"You know," she confided to me once, when we were kneading dough together, "sometimes a loaf of bread means more than a hundred beautiful words. And if I can make even one child smile with my bread, then my efforts are worth it."
Marija Zabav was more than a godmother. She was warmth personified, a tenacious guardian of the overlooked and a gentle teacher of love, expressed in the simplest of forms - in the smell of freshly baked bread and the smile of a hungry child.
Zala Krupljan
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