Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to know how delighted I am to join you for  – the 2nd Annual Valentine’s Day Lunch for Women.

A special occasion to enhance awareness and raise funds for a very significant initiative of the Lighthouse Foundation – The Vicki Vidor Home for Young Mothers and Babies in Heathmont.

A place where very important work is done, a place that represents fine values and principles: kindness and compassion, a place that gives practical support with professional skill to the most vulnerable in our community, to break down the cycle of child maltreatment and future homelessness.

Without this Home, these mothers and babies could easily end up living in violent relationships, or on the streets.

That’s the nub of it.

I want to congratulate the mums and bubs committee who work hard to nurture the home, to keep it going, to ensure its vitality.

This lunch is a lovely way for you to do this – to bring us together to learn more about your circle of care, and to be surrounded by the warmth of friendship and generous spirit.

St Valentine, whose feast we celebrate today, is the patron of Love, Young People, Happy Marriages.

It’s a day symbolised by roses and romance – things of beauty and delight. Perhaps with a gentle reminder about what matters in our lives and in our hearts – about what really matters.

My friends, in her letter of invitation to me, Susan asked me to speak about my own experiences of motherhood, my encouragement of women and their roles in the family, workplace and community, and the importance of the welfare of the family and community.

These have been issues of enormous import to me across my life, as I know they are to you. I must say, though, I always feel a little self conscious talking about myself on occasions like this.

It’s different from having a gasbag on the verandah, solving the problems of the world around the kitchen table, sitting on the back steps yarning, networking in the corridors at a conference.

But I know how much women love to share stories, experiences – to talk and listen wherever we come together.

Our conversations are empowering, enriching, reassuring. There is an ease about opening up, because of the bonds that unite us, whatever our backgrounds, wherever we come from.

I have seen this again and again, at international meetings, at grassroots gatherings.

I see it everyday as Governor-General.

I think about these connections more deeply now that I am a grandmother, I can see quite clearly the way they stem from our commitment – our concern for the future of our young ones – our children and our grand children.

Their health, their education and their employment.

My friends, it’s a great privilege to serve our community in this role, to meet inspiring people in every corner of our Country, lives of quiet courage, extraordinary achievement, giving, caring , loving, sharing, putting others first.

So often I hear myself saying ‘I wish you could have been there with me’.

So often I find myself thinking ‘Thank heavens for mothers’.

So often I find myself asking ‘how does she do it?

When I look back at my early mothering years, what I see shining through, is the theme of neighbourhood and certainly I see that my children were indeed grown by a village.

I owe a great debt of gratitude to that village, to that neighbourhood.

To the grandparents who were always on tap for a crisis, for school holidays.

To the next door neighbour who brought my washing in if it looked like rain, and folded it up in the basket - in the days of towelling nappies, piles of them.

Those dearest nearby friends who made the casseroles that quietly arrived on the back steps, who calmed the anxiety and wiped the tears in though times.

I am still regularly in touch with them.

The teachers at our local state school who taught all our kids.

They came to our home.

They got to know our family and my idiosyncrasies, shall we call them, as a mother.

I remember Mr James, the Principal, who called me ‘the mother who was always late’.

How we love reminiscing about the walks up the road to school in the mornings stopping to climb trees pat dogs talk to frail old people in their gardens and of course, a lot of things I didn’t know about – thank heavens!

‘What storm water drains’? I shout at my sons when they reminisce on childhood adventures.

The marvellous women who helped me in so many ways looking after my house, sharing the load, taking responsibility for children. Going the extra mile.

They understood me because the priorities in their lives were the same as mine, to keep it all going – work, family, community.

I love to keep in touch with them too.

I look back at those years with enduring affection and respect for so many people, who were encouraging, patient, wise who reassured me as I teetered along that tight rope, balancing so many responsibilities.

They were exciting and exhilarating times. There were disappointments and sadnesses too, of course.

I learned so many things as a young mother in my neighbourhood lessons that have stood me in great stead in my personal, professional and public life.

Working with others to change the things we wanted changed for our families, for our children, for ourselves to establish the services we needed.

We shared a strong commitment to enriching and enhancing our communities as indeed you do.

Oh the strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it.

We were determined to make the world a better place.

What energy we had.

And we pushed at it hard. I remember that tiredness too, the broken nights. Getting up and getting going in the morning I would make my bed straight away so I couldn’t get back into it. I’d pat the grey corduroy bed cover and say ‘I love you bed’.

I remember too, that working mother’s guilt. Let me tell you the working grand mother’s guilt is just as pervasive. I try to ignore it but it can hit you right in the heart.

Last month, Michael and I were given written instructions on looking after Charlie, our youngest grandson. Of course I kept them.

After quite a long lecture from Tom about all this I just couldn’t resist pointing out to him, that Dad and I had managed five children under seven.

He said ‘That was different mum, we were a herd. This is Charlie’.

My family and my friends love to indulge in nostalgia about our village years. They were powerful and influential in making us who we are. They gave us our voice.

They gave us strength, confidence, a sense of belonging, opportunities to grow, to learn, to develop, to mature.

Underpinned by the values that this gathering signifies.

My friends, community engagement is a very precious thing, I congratulate, the Lighthouse Foundation and each one of you on the contributions that you make. Thankyou for what you do.