A Lesson from Grandmother

Unless you knew my Grandmother Lyday you will not understand how special is this note.  Please see my cousin’s post for a bit of background.  I don’t really believe in coincidences, one example of why is that Miranda wrote her post 8 hours before I read it.  8 hours later I am cleaning out my email inbox.  I decide to start at the back, and what do I find?  I find an email from my Grandpa and Gramma Parker dated January 1, 2001.  The subject line states, “Hand written note in Grandmother's hand writing”.  Attached is a word document that reads:

THERE OUGHT TO BE A LESSON IN THIS LOAF OF BREAD!!

1. Let’s start with this jar of “starter”. Here am I. Like this yeast, I am so busy, going here and there, just as this yeast mixture is continually working, going nowhere, not getting bigger, not getting better, not useful.

2. My Lord picks me up, stirs me up well, measures out one cup of starter. He adds some ingredients that will help me in the scriptures, concern, sympathy, love, knowledge, understanding and caring.

3. That doesn’t mean life is easy. On the contrary, He lays me out on the “world” with some more flour that I need. He pushes me this way and that, working into me just what I need to become soft, pliable, smooth textured and useable. He’s not mad at me. He’s working with me because He cares.

4. Then, you know what? He sets me aside to give me a chance to grow. That doesn’t mean that I should sit down and do nothing. With the Lord’s help I must grow, I must do my part, so I can double in size and be worth something to someone. My Lord goes about His business, but He is watching me, just as I watch that hunk of flour, water, sugar, potato flakes and salt.

5. But, you know what? He punches me down again! Right there in that bowl. This time He is trying to work out all the pride, selfishness, and self-will that built up while I was growing.

6. I am divided into three parts – Home, Church, state. Then I am left to rise again.

7. When I have grown and matured and doubled in size, I’m put in the oven to be made ready for service. For, after all, what is a loaf of bread except to be eaten and to strengthen others. Even a loaf of bread is no good sitting on the shelf!

By Georgia Mae Brewer Lyday

Not dated – Printed 2009

I think the date should say 2000, but never mind.  My Grandmother Lyday was known for her homemade sourdough bread.  I don’t think we ever visited her when her house didn’t smell of fresh baked bread.  It was amazing.  I can still smell it.  I can still feel the warmth of it as the butter and honey melted all over the bread and onto my plate.  I remember the taste as if it was the last thing I ate.  My Aunt Karol has taken the starter and kept the tradition alive.  I always look forward to the bite that takes me back. 

If we could all leave a legacy like hers the world would be much more perfect place.