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.

Georgie has since shared this lovely photo of her daughter with the Fallen Warrior Quilt in memory of her father, and at the same time gave approval for this photo to be shared.

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!

Jan-Maree xx