“She was a saint walking on the earth” – a tribute to Pat Slattery

November 10, 2025

“Pat Slattery was a saint walking on the earth,” said Fr Timothy Raj, Parish Priest at St John the Baptist Woy Woy. “She lived a simple life. Always had a smile, even with the pain and suffering. The day before she died, she greeted me with a hug. She asked for an anointing … and then she went to sleep.”

That quiet strength was typical of Pat Slattery. Her life was not about attention, status or titles. It was about service.

At the heart of that service was Mary Mac’s Place in Woy Woy. For nearly 25 years, Pat was one of the key driving forces behind the community hub, which supports people who are homeless, isolated, and disadvantaged. It began humbly, with a few parishioners cooking meals in their kitchens and grew into a safe, welcoming space where hundreds of people have found nourishment, dignity and connection.

Through it all, Pat was there. Organising. Listening. Welcoming. Giving.

“She never judged,” said Sally Baker, who leads Mary Mac’s Place. “She knew people by name. She made everyone feel equal – because to her, they were.”

Even in her final months when she was weak and unable to speak, Pat showed up. She hugged. She smiled. She gave her time until she physically couldn’t.

In Pat’s own words “I will continue to volunteer until such time as I am not able.” That time only came a few weeks before her death.

Her presence was constant – not just practical, but deeply personal. She noticed when someone was having a tough day. Pat often quoted St Mary MacKillop, Australia’s first saint: Never see a need without doing something about it. “I think that’s sort of been the basis for what I do,” she once said.

Even after Motor Neurone Disease took her voice, Pat never stopped connecting. She couldn’t speak for the last years of her life, but her actions spoke more powerfully than words ever could. “She couldn’t talk,” said Mary Mac’s volunteer, Jen, “but we all heard her loud and clear.”

Pat died on Saturday 18 October, aged 88, in her home. Her daughter was in bed beside her. The rest of the family – five children (one deceased), 14 grandchildren, and 35 great-grandchildren – had gathered for a birthday celebration. Pat waited until they were all there. Even in death, she chose connection.

Her life was built around faith – but never in a way that excluded anyone. “She lived her religion,” said Fr Timothy. “Not with words, but with her life. She didn’t judge. She just loved.”

Pat taught in Catholic schools for over 40 years and continued her work in education long after retirement – preparing children for sacraments, teaching catechism in public schools, and helping in grief and pastoral care. She volunteered abroad in the Dominican Republic and South Africa, always seeking out those who needed help the most.

“She never saw someone who looked hungry without saying they should have another plate,” said Mary Mac’s volunteer, Ruth.

Despite her illness, Pat never stopped. “Even when she couldn’t eat, she’d still come out to dinner,” said Mary Mac’s volunteer, Philipa.

Her house was never fancy, but it was always full. Full of people, love, laughter and noise. “It was like a Kmart carpark the day she died,” joked Mary Mac’s volunteer, Chris. “That’s how much love there was.”

She handed out a pen to every grandchild starting high school – “the dreaded pen” – which became a family tradition. She turned up to sports matches all winter, braving the cold to watch her great-grandchildren play. She listened, encouraged, and never stopped cheering for her family and her community.

“She wasn’t just part of Mary Mac’s,” said Sally. “She helped build it. And she helped build the people in it, too. She fought for what was right and lifted others up just by being there.”

Pat was formally recognised with a Medal of the Order of Australia and an Australia Day Award for her community service. But anyone who knew her will tell you – that wasn’t what mattered.

“She didn’t need titles,” said Mary Mac’s volunteer, Tony. “She just was. She led without saying a word.”

Every year, Pat gave out the same Irish blessing, printed and shared from the heart:

“May the road rise up to meet you,
 May the wind be always at your back…
 And until we meet again,
 May God hold you in the palm of His hand.”

Pat Slattery lived that prayer. Humbly, faithfully, and fully. Her voice may have been quiet – or, in the end, silent – but her legacy still echoes wherever people are welcomed, fed, hugged, and reminded they are worthy.