The Birth of the Cookie Plate Revival - Rausch Street

My mother, Heather, was a dignified Anglo-Indian woman with a childhood steeped in tradition. She grew up in a home where a kitchen maid visited the market every morning to buy fresh ingredients for each meal. So when she moved to Toongabbie, Australia—then little more than a rural farm community—and was invited by her brand-new neighbour (and soon-to-be lifelong family friend), Cheryl, to a neighbourhood party, she was thrilled.

There was just one instruction: “Bring a plate.”

And so, my dignified, freshly-arrived-in-Australia mother did exactly that—she brought an empty plate.

I can picture her now: mortified, confused, trying to swallow her embarrassment, maybe even fighting back tears. But Cheryl, in an act of quiet, practical kindness, took Heather by the arm and said, “Give me your plate. I’ve got some sandwiches in the fridge.” She piled them neatly on the plate, wrapped it in cling film, and sent Mum out to the table as though that were the plan all along.

I will always be grateful to Cheryl for that gentle gesture—how she covered my mother’s embarrassment, how she made her feel welcome, how she lifted her without making a fuss.

And now, precious girls, I want to ask you:

Who in your world needs that kind of kindness today?

Who needs to be welcomed, encouraged, or quietly uplifted—perhaps by something as simple as a plate of sandwiches, a batch of cookies, or a favourite recipe shared with love?

This is how a revival of kindness begins—with one small act, one full heart, and yes, even one plate of cookies.

So go on: Start the revival. Bring the plate. Be the kindness someone remembers for the rest of their life.

Jeanette

In this image, you see Heather and Cheryl sitting together many years later at a tea party they were hosting.