by Sue Williams
Three years later, while Lynne was doing some volunteer work at a local nursing home in her spare time, visiting the elderly residents and chatting to them, playing cards and helping them in any way she could, she started talking to the odd jobs man, Ken Sawyers. He asked her out to the movies and, a year later, the pair married and set up home together. When Lynne discovered she was having another baby, they decided to move further into the country. After looking all around Bathurst, Orange and Forbes in Central West New South Wales, they eventually settled on a 60-hectare sheep farm south of Cowra, in a remote area outside Darbys Falls. A village named not after a waterfall but after a local man who fell off his horse, it is best known for its observatory and is said to be one of the darkest places in the whole of Australia to look for stars.
Ken planted some lucerne and oats as well as keeping the sheep, but he was limited in what he could do because of a heart weakened by the bad asthma he’d suffered since childhood. The income Lynne was making from her sewing came in handy to keep the family, together with new baby Emma – 18 years younger than Lynne’s eldest child, Susan – but the transition to farm life wasn’t always easy. The first time the truck came to pick up sheep for the abattoir, Lynne was distraught. ‘It was about 6 a.m. and every one of those wethers turned around and looked at me,’ says Lynne. ‘The man just kept talking and I thought, Please go! I knew I was going to start crying.
‘There was also a pair of twins there we’d been bottle-feeding and they were being sold too. They came over to me as we were getting them into the yard, so I just opened the gate and pushed them back out again, so they lived a happy life for the next 13 years. Then I went back up to the house and Sue rang me and asked how it was going. I burst into tears. She told me if I was going to be a farmer’s wife, I’d have to toughen up. And I suppose I did, but only to a certain degree! A few years later, we started fostering . . .’
The first foster child, a nine-year-old boy called Troy, came when Emma was seven. Before he arrived, Lynne explained to Emma that he’d probably be very quiet and that he wouldn’t have many possessions. Emma carefully picked some of her favourite books and toys to put in his room for him. When he turned up, however, his uncle dropped him off with a trailer full of bikes, scooters, books and boxes of toys, and Troy just wouldn’t stop talking. He was meant to be staying for two weeks, but one evening over dinner he casually mentioned that the judge had said to him if he behaved, he might be able to stay longer. He ended up staying 10 years.
Yet it wasn’t always a smooth ride. ‘I used to say to him, “Troy, you’re like a little puppy dog, always around Emma, and you’ve got to give her space, let her breathe a bit,” ’ says Lynne. ‘But he was only a child too. One day Emma was crying her eyes out and I took her into the bedroom. Troy walked past and I told him this was the result of not giving her space. So he went off to his room and then came back and knocked on the door with a piece of paper, asking me to give it to Emma.
‘I gave it to her and she stopped crying and started laughing. It said: “If you want me to go, tick this box, and if you want me to stay, tick that box”. I asked her which box she wanted to tick. She said if she ticked this box for him to go, she’d miss him too much, and if she ticked the box to stay, he’d drive her crazy. But she ticked the box for him to stay.’ And so he stayed, and stayed, and stayed.
These days, Troy is living and working in Canberra, and engaged to be married. He and Lynne are still very close friends, and she considers him a son.
‘She was just so amazing to me,’ says Troy today, now 25 years old. ‘As a child, not having any parents in your life can leave a bit of a void, and she really filled that void for me as much as possible. I couldn’t ask for anything more. She was so caring and so passionate about everything, and she really treated me as one of her own. When I first went to her, I was at the kind of impressionable age where you can start getting lost in life, where you can go wrong. But she and Ken and Emma were really good to me, and gave me discipline and direction.’
There have been many, many children in the interim, from newborns straight from hospital to 16-year-old teenagers, and Lynne cherishes the time spent with each one. At the farmhouse there are framed photos of youngsters on every wall, on every surface, and photo albums all around. Every year on 2 December, Lynne carefully puts a huge selection of photos of the children who have passed through her life on one wall of the house, their artwork, cards and mementoes. It takes her a whole day to put her Christmas wall up, and a whole day to take all the photos down again after the start of the New Year.
‘It’s funny when they have their own children and bring them along to see me and the wall, and they point and they say, “I did that!” And they are proud, and it’s good to see. Every time I put my wall up, I wonder if it’s going to be as good as the year before, and it always is.’
The children who arrive at Lynne’s – sometimes as many as six at a time – all have different backgrounds and reasons for being there. Sometimes they’ve been the victims of abuse, have drug-addicted parents or have dabbled in drugs themselves. Sometimes they’re simply the child of a single parent who’s been taken ill so they need a few weeks in respite care. Sometimes they have parents who can’t or just don’t know how to care properly for them.
The youngsters all have their own ways of coping. One girl was pretty badly behaved, and became even crankier as she watched Emma and Troy playing, storming out of the room. Lynne followed her to ask what was wrong. After a few minutes, the girl admitted she was jealous as she looked at them and saw the kind of childhood and close friendships she’d missed out on. From that afternoon, her behaviour gradually improved, and she developed into a caring, kind girl who went on to have children of her own, whom she adores.
Another young girl Lynne discovered was immensely talented in art. She spent a lot of time in the makeshift art room and, when she left, presented Lynne with a beautiful painting of a circle, surrounded by people. ‘People walk in and out of our lives’, it says around the circle, ‘but only true friends leave their footprints on your heart’.
Sometimes the kids are nervous when they arrive, some are agitated and a little hostile, and some take everything in their stride. ‘There are those who are quite excited; it’s like a little holiday for them,’ says Lynne. ‘I sit and play with them, or look through a book, and talk to them and give them a drink or something to eat. We have all sorts of games here: building games, Monopoly, computer games and Xbox. Sometimes it takes only about an hour for them to relax. You know when they want space.’
Often, when it comes time for them to leave, Lynne is as upset as the children. One boy who liked nothing better than to hang around in the kitchen with her, helping to cook, didn’t want to go. He was hanging on to Lynne’s arm and sobbing. ‘So I said, “Wait a minute, I’m going to go in there to pack some of the biscuits we made for you,” ’ says Lynne. It was all she could possibly do not to break down in tears in front of him. ‘I went in the kitchen, had a little cry myself, put the biscuits in the bag and wiped my eyes and took the biscuits out to him. So he was happy he had some biscuits to go. But it is hard. There are many times when I’ve found it difficult saying goodbye.
‘I know that’s sometimes what puts people off fostering. They’re afraid they’ll start to love the child and then have to give him or her back. But my comment is always that if I can just put a light at the end of one child’s tunnel so they can see that life doesn’t have to be as it has been, I am happy. I’ve stayed in touch with lots of the children, anyway, and when you see life turning out well for them, that makes it so worthwhile.’
Of course, some of the kids have been through incredibly difficult times, and they can test their carers, either deliberately or completely unintentionally. Lynne’s youngest daughter, Emma, now 24 years old, says some of the children who arrive have been passed from home to home, and are unwilling to trust anyone. Some remain completely in their shells and barely speak a word, wh
ile other tiny kids may speak only in the kind of expletives you’d rarely even hear from an adult. And teenagers can always be challenging, however untroubled they may look on the surface.
‘Mum is never given much background as to what these children have been through or what to expect, but somehow she manages to care for each and every individual,’ says Emma, who’s now studying environmental science at Canberra University. ‘Every time someone leaves her care, she always tells them that her door is always open should they ever wish to return.
‘She’s not trying to provide these children with an elegant life, but with the basics which the rest of us take for granted: clean clothes or simply clothes that fit, a warm bed, food, possessions they can call their own, like a teddy bear or book, a safe environment and – most importantly – love. It is her unconditional love for children and a never-ending will to give to those who are less fortunate that pushes Mum to be the best person she can be, and I know she has a great sense of fulfilment from the work she does. There’s been many a time that children have adopted her as their second mother and have told me how grateful they are for the time and effort she’s put into giving them a second chance at a good life.’
There are, of course, constant ups and downs, and there are the failures to bear, as well as the successes to celebrate. One girl had a violent tantrum once, after Lynne issued an ultimatum that if she didn’t make her bed, she couldn’t go on an outing. But later when the girl was given the option to move on, she hid under the blankets in her room and said she didn’t want to go, and swore she’d be good from then on. Another girl said she was going to run away, but after taking a look from the front door at how far they were from anywhere, she changed her mind. Another young boy, the son of a drug addict mother, had so many emotional problems, he finally left. Lynne later heard he’d ended up in jail. She’s overwhelmed with sadness whenever she thinks of him. ‘I wonder, if things had been different and he could have stopped with me longer, would things have been different?’ she asks. ‘Could I have helped him?
‘But in many cases, it’s not because the children have been abused, it’s often that their parents didn’t know how to be parents. You have to take a course of lessons and pass a test to drive a car, but to be a parent you need no qualifications or training at all. And sometimes, it just doesn’t come easy. It takes more than one person to raise any child; it takes a whole community. You’ve got neighbours, you’ve got friends, you’ve got the whole village, you’ve got doctors, teachers . . . it’s not down to any one person.’
The phone call came completely out of the blue. It was a representative from the Australian of the Year Awards: Lynne was one of four finalists for the New South Wales award for Local Hero of the Year 2012. Lynne insisted the caller had the wrong person. The caller insisted she hadn’t. Lynne burst into tears.
She immediately rang a few friends to tell them about the strange call she’d received. They all had the same response. ‘Yes, we know,’ they each said. They’d all been in on the nomination.
It had been the idea of close friend Carolynn Hodder, the local community nurse. She’d always felt Lynne was doing such amazing work that she really needed to be recognised for her commitment. ‘We all felt she deserved that, so I used subterfuge and told her I was doing a paper on older Australians in the community and interviewed her so I could get enough information about her. She’s so gullible and trusting, she never questioned it.
‘When she got the call, she was absolutely flabbergasted. She was then even more shocked to find out that everyone had been in on the secret. But, typically, she thought it was incredible we’d gone to so much trouble rather than ever thinking she’s the one who’s incredible!’
Lynne was accompanied by her whole family to the ceremony in Sydney and, thrilled and overwhelmed, went up on stage to receive her badge and certificate from New South Wales Premier, Barry O’Farrell, as one of the finalists. When she sat down again, she gazed at the certificate, thinking happily that she’d have it framed and put up on a wall. Then she heard her name again being called. They’d opened the envelope and she had won the state title. But she remained sitting in her seat. ‘I thought I was going to faint,’ she says. ‘My legs went to jelly. I couldn’t get up.’ In the end, Janice, sitting beside her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet, and the two both went up on stage together.
When they reached the microphone for Lynne to make a speech of acceptance, however, she again went to pieces. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered to Janice. ‘I can’t. I can’t. Janice, do it for me . . .’ Unbeknownst to her, the microphone was on, and the entire crowd had heard her words. Janice took the microphone, and apologised on her behalf, as Lynne shook like a leaf from shock and nerves by her side. ‘She was like a deer caught in the headlights,’ laughs Janice.
So when Lynne was summoned to Canberra for the Australian of the Year Awards on Australia Day 2012, an event in which all the state winners were pitted against each other for the national title, she took herself in hand. ‘I had to have a big, serious discussion with myself because I thought if this does come off, I need to be able to do it myself.’ But at that point, fate intervened. Ken was rushed to hospital with kidney failure. He started off in Orange and was then transferred to Sydney, hovering between life and death. He rallied and recovered his strength a little and, just as he was about to be sent back to Orange, a specialist decided to do one more test. It turned out that for years he’d been misdiagnosed, and he actually had myeloma, a type of bone marrow cancer. Lynne said she couldn’t possibly go to the ceremony now. He told her he wouldn’t hear of her not going.
On the day of the awards, Lynne travelled to Canberra with Janice, and had lunch with Governor-General Quentin Bryce along with all the other award nominees. Also present was Australian cricketing legend Adam Gilchrist, the chair of the National Australia Day Council. Lynne shyly approached him, explained the reason for her husband’s absence, and said Ken was a huge cricket fan. She dialled the number of the phone at his bedside, and Adam talked to him at length. ‘Ken felt so good talking to him about cricket and the cricket score,’ says Lynne. ‘He was a lovely man. And all the other people were so inspirational, they were just incredible.’
This time, Janice had warned her she’d be on her own if she won, since the finalists were all gathered on stage to hear the final verdict read. So when her name was called as Australia’s Local Hero 2012, she steeled herself to step forward, receive her award from Prime Minister Julia Gillard and then speak, filmed on TV for a national audience. ‘At one stage, I thought, Oooh, I’m going to lose it,’ she confesses, ‘Then I thought, No, I am not! I can do that afterwards! But it was amazing, I still can’t believe it!’
Janice, looking on from the audience, felt enormously proud. ‘Mum was always so supportive with us, we knew she’d be very good at fostering too,’ she says. ‘There’s such a big need for people like her. But I think for her, making that speech was the hardest part of all the years she’s spent fostering!’
Her old friends from her teen years, watching on TV from home, were amazed that the young girl they’d once known to be almost crippled by shyness was up there on stage, speaking to the nation, with the prime minister by her side. ‘She was always kind, she’d always be stopping to tend to injured animals on the road and go out of her way to help anyone who needed a hand, so none of us were surprised that she’s ended up doing what she does,’ says Helen Quartly. ‘We still go away every year for a long weekend together and sometimes she’ll turn up with a child, or two or three, and we can see how good she is with them. She’s so calm and placid. But to see her up there making that speech . . . we were gobsmacked to the point where half of us were in tears.’
Her huge extended family of her own children, six grandchildren and all the foster kids she’s cared for over the years, felt she was the perfect winner.
‘We are all very proud of her,’ says her eldest daughter, Susan, aged 44. ‘Now having three young
children of my own, I have no idea how she manages! But she’s always had a very generous spirit and will go out of her way to help people and try to solve their problems – great values for us to grow up with! She’s got a lovely way of sensing when she’s needed. She’ll send me little notes in the mail with motivational quotes if she thinks I’m having a hard time, and she always sends my children individual cards at Christmastime, which they love to open. They think she’s marvellous. She really deserved that recognition.’
Everyone in the region also wanted to join in. After much debate at the local council, they agreed to name the reserve at Darbys Falls the ‘Lynne Sawyers Reserve’ – despite the Geographical Names Board of New South Wales’s recommendation that locations should be named after dead people, rather than the living.
But for Lynne, very much alive and well at 68, the main bonus of the award is that she hopes it’ll cast fresh light on the need for more people to become foster carers. ‘It is harder for parents to raise kids these days because there’s too much pressure for everything else, like getting a job, and material things. But you can get by without those. If you’ve got enough money to pay the bills, then all you need is love and a good solid foundation. To foster children, you don’t have to be married either, you can be male or female, any age, take any child, it’s up to you if you want to take babies or little children or teenagers. There’s a big shortage of foster parents for teenagers; some of them are kept in motels, which is very sad.
‘And it is just so rewarding. One young man came back to visit me the other day. He’s now over 6 foot tall and had to bend down to put his arms around me. He said, “Thank you, Lynne, for putting up with me and for loving me.” But I said it’s never hard to love children. To see them smile . . . really, that’s all the thanks you ever need.’
Lynne Sawyers with her Local Hero award at the 2012 Australian of the Year ceremony. (Photo courtesy of National Australia Day Council)