Well, look at what people are doing for returned veterans now.

O children of the future, gather closely and listen to the wise words of Barbara Bush, a woman whose compassion and wisdom reflect the essence of what it means to honor those who have served their nation. She once said, “Well, look at what people are doing for returned veterans now. The wounded warriors. They're working hard to make the wounded veterans feel that they are loved and welcomed home, unlike Vietnam. It was not a very kind, gentle world then. I think we are kinder and gentler.” These words speak to the transformative power of compassion and the evolution of our treatment of those who have sacrificed so much in defense of our freedom.

Consider, O children, the nature of compassion. It is the essence of what it means to be human—the ability to feel the suffering of others and to act with kindness and care. Barbara Bush reminds us that, in our treatment of the veterans who return from battle, we have grown more gentle, more understanding. In the past, especially after the Vietnam War, those who returned home were often met not with gratitude but with scorn, their sacrifices misunderstood, their pain ignored. The world was not kind or welcoming, and the soldiers bore the weight of their trauma in silence. But in this age, there is a new understanding, a new compassion, a recognition of the immense toll that war takes on the mind and body.

Think, O children, of the ancient warriors—those who fought to protect their people, yet who often returned to their homes to be met with distrust or fear. The Greek warriors, who fought in the Trojan War, faced not only the brutality of battle but the alienation of returning to a world that could not truly understand their pain. Homer, in his epic tale of Odysseus, speaks of the long journey home and the emotional and psychological battles that the hero faces even after the physical wars are over. Odysseus’ return is not marked by celebration but by struggle, by the wounds he carries within himself—wounds that are neither seen nor understood by those around him. In many ways, the veterans of Vietnam faced this same struggle, a battle not just against external enemies, but against an unsympathetic society.

Yet, unlike those ancient stories, Barbara Bush highlights a shift in our response to those who serve in battle. Today, when a veteran returns, particularly one who has suffered physical or emotional wounds, there is a growing movement to provide not only physical care but emotional support. The rise of programs for wounded warriors, the efforts to make these men and women feel loved, valued, and welcomed home, stands as a testament to the progress we have made as a society. Where once there was neglect, now there is care. Where once there was rejection, now there is embrace. This is a sign of the growing kindness of the world, the recognition that those who have sacrificed their bodies and souls for our freedom deserve not only our gratitude but our compassion.

In these changing times, we look at the stories of those who fought in Vietnam and reflect on their struggles. These brave souls returned home to a society that was torn by political division and wounded by the harsh realities of war. Many of these veterans were treated as pariahs, their sacrifices unacknowledged, their suffering dismissed. But over time, as our understanding of the consequences of war deepened, so too did our willingness to show kindness to these men and women. The Vietnam War Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. stands as one of the most powerful symbols of this transformation—a place where we now honor the lives lost and the sacrifices made, not just with recognition, but with the respect and love that should have been theirs all along.

Now, O children, the lesson here is clear: compassion and kindness are not simply acts of charity, but the foundation upon which a just and caring society is built. The wounded warriors of today, those who return from the battlefield, bear not only the weight of their injuries but the weight of society's perception of them. It is our duty, as caretakers of the future, to ensure that these men and women are met with open arms, understanding, and respect. Their sacrifices must not be forgotten, nor should their pain be ignored. It is only through our collective compassion that we can truly begin to heal the wounds of war, both seen and unseen.

Therefore, I charge you, O seekers of wisdom, to take up the mantle of compassion in your own lives. Let the lessons of Barbara Bush inspire you to treat all those who have served—those who have sacrificed— with the kindness and understanding they deserve. Stand with them in their struggle, offer them your support, and ensure that they never feel that their service was in vain. May you, like the heroes of old, fight not just with your strength, but with your heart, to create a world where every soldier—whether wounded or whole—finds peace, love, and a welcome home.