“Do you not know that a little yeast leavens the whole batch of dough?”

I Corinthians 5:6

I was blessed with the ability to spend a lot of quality time with my Grandma Spies when I was a kid. For most of my growing up years, I connected with her almost every day. I would either go to her house in town or give her a call and talk to her about the events of my day. After I graduated from high school, I made sure to talk to her at least once a week – no matter how many miles apart we lived. It was wonderful to have her love and support in my life.

The relationship with my other grandmother, Grandma Appelt, was more complicated. Officially, I was not allowed to talk to her. For reasons unknown to me at the time, and still unknown to me today, my mom refused to talk to her mom. And, by extension, she would not allow the rest of the family to talk to her either. My dad, however, had a problem with this; and, whenever there was an opportunity, he would take my sister and me and visit Grandma Appelt at her place of work. We were under strict instructions never to mention our visits to our mom. But I think that Dad wanted us to have some kind of relationship with Grandma Appelt and for us to know that she was part of our family as well. I am grateful that he took the risk and let us have these small moments of time with her.

Grandma Appelt owned and operated one of the local bakeries. People in my small community would come to her place to purchase breads and sweet creations made by hand from her secret recipes. Everything she sold was great. But her kolaches were especially amazing. My favorite, by far, were the ones filled with poppy seeds. I don’t know what she did to make them so special, but I was always excited for these few, precious moments we had to visit with Grandma Appelt and to taste her tender and sweet kolaches.

After my mom spent time in the hospital for her mental disorder, she came out with no memory of the disagreement that she had with her mom, and she was willing to re-establish a relationship with her. So, for the last few years of high school, we could be more open about our visits with Grandma Appelt, and we were able to see her on a much more regular basis. I got to join her a couple of times at her church, the local Southern Baptist congregation. I was grateful that she got to share a little of her faith journey with me. We even got to share some time with one another at a few holiday meals. The time together wasn’t huge. But it was enough to keep those relationships maintained for years to come.

Grandma Appelt was able to join Barb and me for our wedding in California. I believe that was her first and only visit to the state. She also came out for the baptism of our daughter, Anna, when we lived in Pennsylvania. Again, I believe that was her first and only visit to that state. I have a particular memory of her astonishment at the number of trees and the height of the trees that we could see in Pennsylvania as compared to the number of trees and the height of the trees that we could see in Texas. The ones in Pennsylvania were much more numerous and much taller. I had a similar reaction when I had first been in the state about eight years before that particular visit. I was so glad that she could be with us for these important events in our lives before her death.

A little yeast has a big impact when it comes to the baking process. Grandma Appelt understood that. Much of her life was living proof of that reality. And although my dad was not much of a baker (since his area of cooking expertise was found on the barbeque pit and not in the oven), I think that he, too, understood that in life and personal relationships, a little time spent together can go a long way. He took a risk – a big risk – to make sure that my sister and I could have some sort of relationship with my Grandma Appelt, minimal though it may have been. The stolen moments with her were few and far between. But they were filled with tenderness and sweetness. And they were enough to build a foundation of a love and support that would last until her death and beyond. I think of her often. I miss her a lot. And I remain grateful for the lessons that she taught me regarding the value of how a little can go a long way and how that can help make life taste a whole lot sweeter as a result.