We had a fabulous time at the Volunteers' Gathering this year. We usually have one main speaker for the Volunteers' Gathering but this year, we had a fabulous selection of speakers. First came AIRCDRE Grant Pinder, one of our board members who introduced himself and explained his reasons for accepting a Board position.
Next came the brave Georgie Hill who shared the story of her husband's passing and the comfort recevinf a Fallen Warrior Quilt brought her and her daughter.
Next came a Warrant Officer who spoke about the value of a quilt that had been presented to an elderly veteran. He recevied it in the last few years of his life and when he passed away the quilt was incorporated in his funera service.
I have already shared the beautiful speech delivered by another board member, Mary Powell. You can read it here if you missed it.
One of our volunteers, Ellen Newman, had prepared Slow Stitching Kits for the goodie bags and gave everyone an overview of what they are and how to use them.
Finally, we heard from Able Seaman Taryn Dickens but not until Philomena presented her with her very special quilt honouring her part in the Paralympics.
When Taryn delivered her speech I was so moved that I asked her for a copy of it so I could share it with those who could not attend.
If you ever wondered if recieving our quilts and laundry bags make a difference to our recipients I think that Taryn's speech will answer that for you. Enjoy!
............................................................................................................................
Good Evening Friends and
Volunteers.
My name is Taryn Dickens, and
I am an Able Seaman in the Royal Australian Navy.
It is an absolute privilege to
be here with you today.
When Jan Maree asked me to
speak to a room full of Aussie Hero Quilts volunteers, I found myself thinking
about what I could possibly say that would truly convey the impact of what you
do.
I could talk about the quilt I
received.
I could talk about the laundry
bags.
I could talk about the
excitement of opening a parcel and seeing something made especially for me.
But the more I thought about
it, the more I realised that what I really wanted to share was not the story of
one quilt, one laundry bag, or even one recipient.
What I want to share is the
story of what your gifts become.
Because the things you make do
not simply arrive in a parcel.
They travel with us.
They comfort us.
They remind us of who we are.
And in ways you may never
fully see, they become woven into our life stories.
For me, that story began long
before I received an Aussie Hero Quilt.
In January 2017, before I
enlisted in the Royal Australian Navy, my longest and dearest friend, Tracey
Pelling, or Pello as most people know her, gave me a handmade laundry bag.
It was covered in native
Australian animals and gum trees.
A simple thing.
A practical thing.
The kind of gift that might
not seem particularly significant at first glance.
In fact, I believe it was a
laundry bag that she had received herself during one of her many deployments
years earlier.
To most people it was a
laundry bag.
To me it was home.
Like many people joining the
military, I arrived at recruit school full of excitement, nerves and
anticipation.
I thought I knew what I was
getting myself into.
I didn’t.
Nothing quite prepares you for
leaving behind everything familiar.
The routines.
The people.
Your favourite chair at home.
The smell of your own pillow.
The everyday things you don’t
realise you love until they are suddenly gone.
For nearly two years during
recruit school and trade training at HMAS Cerberus, that laundry bag hung from
the end of my bunk.
Every single day it was there.
When I was tired, it was
there.
When I was homesick, it was
there.
When training felt
overwhelming, it was there.
And while it might sound
strange to people who have never lived away from home in that kind of
environment, that laundry bag became something much bigger than itself.
It reminded me that there were
people waiting for me.
People who believed in me.
People who wanted me to
succeed.
On difficult days it reminded
me why I had signed up in the first place.
It reminded me that I belonged
somewhere beyond the training establishment and the uniform.
Looking back now, I realise it
taught me something I would carry with me for the rest of my life.
Things made with love carry
meaning far beyond their practical purpose.
For those of you who don’t
know me, in 2019 my life changed dramatically.
I began losing my sight.
It’s difficult to explain just
how profoundly life can change when something you have always taken for granted
begins to disappear.
When I joined the Navy, I
imagined a future that looked very different from the one I have now.
I imagined deployments.
I imagined serving at sea.
I imagined standing on the
deck of a ship somewhere far from home.
I imagined the career so many
sailors dream about when they first enlist.
Instead, I found myself
sitting in medical appointments.
Learning new terminology.
Managing uncertainty.
And asking questions about my
future that I never expected to ask.
Questions about my career.
Questions about my
independence.
Questions about my identity.
If I am completely honest,
there were times then, and sometimes still now, when I have felt like an
imposter in uniform.
I have never served on a ship.
I have never deployed.
I have only spent a few short
months working in my trade as an Electronics Technician on ships alongside at
HMAS Kuttabul.
And there were moments when I
wondered whether that meant I hadn’t done enough.
Whether I truly belonged.
Whether I had earned the title
of sailor.
Those thoughts can be heavy.
Particularly when you compare
yourself to the incredible men and women around you.
But something important
happened over time.
I began to understand that
service is not measured solely by where you go.
It is not measured by the
number of deployments you complete.
It is not measured by medals,
qualifications or sea days.
Service is measured by impact.
By contribution.
By the way we support the
people around us.
And through my own journey, I
found purpose in advocating for disability and inclusion within the Australian
Defence Force.
I found purpose in helping
people better understand disability.
I found purpose in making
things a little easier for the person who might come after me.
Because belonging matters.
And creating belonging for
others is a form of service in itself.
That journey eventually led me
to one very important person in my life.
My assistance dog, Gigi.
Now, Gigi has changed my life
in countless ways.
She gives me confidence.
She gives me independence.
She helps me navigate the
world in a way that would otherwise be impossible.
But like many highly trained
assistance dogs, she also has a very healthy opinion of herself.
Through Defence Community
Dogs, Gigi received a handmade stay mat.
And once again I found myself
receiving a gift made by someone I had never met.
Someone who had decided to
give their time, skills and energy to help a complete stranger.
That stay mat was another
reminder that kindness exists in remarkable places.
It taught me that kindness can
be stitched into fabric.
That generosity can be sewn
one piece at a time.
Of course, Gigi had a slightly
different interpretation.
She was absolutely convinced
that the stay mat was official recognition of her importance and status.
And to be fair, she has spent
every day since behaving as though that interpretation is entirely correct.
In 2023, I was given the
incredible honour of serving as Co-Captain of the Australian Invictus Games
Team in Düsseldorf, Germany.
What an extraordinary
experience that was.
The Invictus Games are about
sport.
But they are also about
recovery.
About resilience.
About community.
About discovering that even
after injury or illness changes your life, you are still capable of
extraordinary things.
Before we left Australia,
every member of the team received a personalised Invictus Games laundry bag.
And the moment I was presented
with mine, I was instantly transported back to 2017.
Back to recruit school.
Back to that laundry bag from
Pello.
Back to the reminder of home.
Thousands of kilometres away
from Australia, I found myself carrying exactly the same feeling.
That sense of connection.
That sense of belonging.
That sense that somebody
cared.
Sport can be an incredibly
personal experience.
People watch the races.
They see the results.
They see the medals.
But what they don’t see are
the early mornings.
The setbacks.
The doubts.
The sacrifices.
The moments when you wonder if
you’re capable of achieving what you’ve set out to do.
What I didn’t know during the
Invictus Games was that while I was competing, Cath Harper was at home
watching.
While I was racing, Cath was
watching.
While I was receiving medals,
Cath was paying attention.
While I was creating memories,
Cath was quietly preserving them.
One stitch at a time.
One block at a time.
One story at a time.
And that’s something truly
remarkable.
Because all of us want to feel
seen.
We want to know that our
struggles matter.
We want to know that our
efforts matter.
We want to know that our
stories matter.
Cath took moments from my life
and transformed them into something tangible.
Something permanent.
Something I can hold in my
hands.
When I returned home, I was
presented with my quilt at the 2023 Aussie Hero Quilts Dinner by Cath, Jan
Maree and my mate Pello.
I was overwhelmed.
Honestly, overwhelmed doesn’t
even begin to describe it.
Because the emotion wasn’t
just about receiving something beautiful.
It was about feeling
recognised.
It was about understanding
that somebody had looked at my journey and decided it was worth remembering.
Worth celebrating.
Worth preserving.
And I don’t think there is a
greater gift than that.
Following Invictus, I
continued pursuing qualification for the Winter Paralympic Games.
That led me into biathlon and
cross-country skiing.
Two sports that most
Australians know very little about.
Including me, when I first
started.
The journey was challenging.
There were countless training
sessions.
Travel.
Adversity.
Setbacks.
Moments of frustration.
And moments of incredible joy.
Along the way, I became the
first vision-impaired Australian to compete in Biathlon and Cross-Country
Skiing, and the first Australian woman with a disability to compete in those
sports.
I am also incredibly proud to
say that LCDR Dave Miln and I became the first currently serving members of the
Australian Defence Force to compete at a Paralympic Games.
Hopefully we won’t be the last
for very long.
Because that would mean the
door is opening for others.
And that matters.
Achievements like these are
often attached to individual names.
But the reality is that there
are no individual achievements.
Not really.
Behind every achievement is a
community.
A wife or partner.
A family.
A team.
A group of friends.
Mentors.
Colleagues.
Volunteers.
People who encourage us when
we feel like giving up.
People who help us believe in
ourselves.
People who quietly support us
without expecting recognition.
And if there is one thing I
have learned, it is that success is never a solo journey.
Cath,
Before receiving my quilt and
laundry bag, we had met only briefly.
Yet somehow you captured
moments that mean the world to me.
When I look at that quilt, I
don’t simply see my sporting achievements.
I see resilience.
I see friendship.
I see community........
I see way more than a blind
person should.........
I see the people who walked
beside me through every challenge.
Most importantly, I see hope.
Thank you.
As I reflected on today, I
realised that my life has been marked by a series of handmade gifts.
A laundry bag from Pello that
carried memories of home.
A stay mat for Gigi that
demonstrated the kindness of strangers.
A quilt and laundry bag from
Cath that captured a journey I never imagined I would take.
Three gifts.
Three makers.
One message.
You are not alone.
You are valued.
You belong.
And I think that message is
the true gift you give every recipient.
Not the fabric.
Not the thread.
Not even the beautiful
finished product.
What you really give is
connection.
You tell people that they have
been seen.
You tell people that somebody
noticed.
You tell people that their
service, sacrifice, challenges and perseverance matter.
To every volunteer here today,
I want you to know something important.
Recipients remember.
We truly do.
We remember opening the
parcel.
We remember seeing our name.
We remember unfolding the
quilt for the very first time.
We remember showing our
families.
We remember reading the
messages.
We remember the feeling.
Years later, we still
remember.
Years later, we are still
telling the stories.
Years later, we are still
drawing strength from what you created.
When you finish a quilt or a
laundry bag, you see a completed project.
A finished item.
Another package ready to be
sent.
But when we receive it, we see
something entirely different.
We see friendship.
We see encouragement.
We see gratitude.
We see support.
And perhaps most importantly,
we see proof.
Proof that somebody who did
not know us personally cared enough to spend their precious time creating
something just for us.
That is an extraordinary act
of generosity.
And it is a gift that lasts
far longer than you can imagine.
Somewhere tonight there will
be a sailor sitting in a cabin.
A soldier away from home.
An airman on a base.
A veteran navigating recovery.
A family facing challenges.
And one of your quilts or
laundry bags may be sitting nearby.
They may touch it without even
thinking.
They may glance at it during a
difficult day.
They may find comfort in it
when nobody else is around.
And they may never have the
opportunity to tell you what it meant.
So let me tell you on their
behalf.
It matters.
It really matters.
On behalf of myself, Gigi, and
every recipient whose life you have touched, thank you.
Thank you for every stitch.
Thank you for every quilt.
Thank you for every laundry
bag.
Thank you for every hour spent
sewing, quilting, planning, posting and creating.
The things you make become
part of people’s lives.
They become part of people’s
memories.
They become part of people’s
stories.
I know they have become part
of mine.
Fair winds and following seas.
If you did not make it to the Thank You Weekend this year, you might want to put next year's date in your calendar. 23 October 2027
Till next time.... keep spreading the word and happy stitching!
