A few times over the past years I have already written about my motivation for blogging, for instance here in 2010. But what happened yesterday was just so overwhelming that I want to share it with you - not because I wish to "bathe in glory", but because it shows so well what is one of the reasons for me to keep blogging, why I love living in Blogland so much, and it is a great example of the way things can go sometimes, when we post something with no idea of how what we may consider a simple (or even boring) post can have impact on others.
Back in April, my Mum wrote one of her guest posts (they are always very popular, and rightly so!) for me. That time, she chose to give us her recipe for Easter Bunny Cookies.
There were comments from you, dear readers, and both my Mum and I appreciated every one of them.
Yesterday, I received this email (which I have permission of the sender to publish here):
. . . for your gentle, warm and generally lovely blog, Meike. And thank you, too for "Meike's Mum" who appears in giuest spots from time to time.
I wrote a version of this note last week and sent it off into cyberspace, and it vanished. That said, what follows is the jist of the letter.
I wanted to thank you and “Meike's Mum” for the ever-cheerful offerings on the blog that even includes recipes from time to time. I love your potato salad, but it is the Easter Bunny cookies, and the tale of Easter bunny cookies that I thought you might most like to hear. The cookies, the best I have ever made or eaten, are becoming a story in themselves and I thought you might find their new history interesting.
I shared the bunnies and the recipe at Easter with my friend R., who made them for the "Doors Open" event held at [our] church [...].
R., who organizes the event for the church, made the cookies to help welcome people when they came to look around the church. I wanted to let you know that your impulse to share has been passed on, I think, in quite a lovely way
And there's more: I belong to the Women's Music Club of [...], another venerable institution with a proud 120 year history in the city. The club presents concerts and raises scholarship funds for emerging musicians. One of our fundraising events took place about 10 days ago - and Meike's Mum's cookies feature there, too. "Swing Into Spring," takes place annually in one of the grand houses here, the venue for the event the product of a host's generosity in making it available for the WMC, who move in and out like a small army to set up a lovely lunch with party / tea sandwiches and board members' homemade dainties that are effectively a club signature. At this event, some of the tuxedo-ed and white-gloved husbands and partners of board members (all women, at present) serve champagne to welcome guests as they arrive, while music of one of the scholarship winners fills the entranceway, the open rooms of the house, and sometimes, even the gardens – romantic, yes.
Your cookies, Meike's Mum, in the shape of eighth-notes, were this year for the first time part of this very fancy event, and they have now done their bit in contributing some of the $3,000.00 raised for the scholarship fund.
I am now curious about the next event these cookies of yours will appear at, and looking forward to having a little more fun with them. Thank you so much!"
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Wasn't this a wonderful message to receive on a Monday afternoon while working from home? I instantly passed it on to my Mum, who was just as overwhelmed as I by such a lovely response. I thanked the sender and asked for permission to publish the message, to which I had a positive answer and the additional comment "You spend hours on that blog, and you have readers who derive pleasure from it, but feedback is limited too often to brief response, and sometimes there should be more."
I couldn't agree more, and really hope that my comments on other people's blogs give them an impression of how much I enjoy reading their posts. And please note: I appreciate ALL comments, however brief they may be!
Lots of love to all of you
PS: I altered the [...] bits in the message so as to protect the sender's privacy. Maybe some of you will still recognize her identity, but this is not the time or place for it.