Every veteran has a story. Some spent their military service in the line of fire; others gave their service behind the scenes. Some carried weapons; some carried a medical bag. Whether on the ground, in the air, or on the water, all who willingly respond to the call to serve their country see it as a high and holy calling to protect, safeguard, and strengthen the land they love.

Former United States President George W. Bush observed: “We live in freedom because every generation has produced patriots willing to serve a cause greater than themselves. Those who serve today are taking their rightful place among the greatest generations that have worn our nation’s uniform.”¹

Every generation has the opportunity to be as great as the one that preceded it. We measure the value of a veteran’s service not by the length or the location of the conflict but by the heart and character of the soldiers. Every time brave soldiers respond to the call of duty, they have the opportunity to leave a legacy of honor for those who follow.

Like typical heroes, most would say, “I’m just doing my job” or “It was my honor to serve.” They don’t want to be placed on a lofty pedestal or adulated from afar. They see themselves as regular men and women who were simply willing to step up, do their duty, and serve their country. And yet it’s that sense of humble dedication to duty that swells our hearts with appreciation and respect for their service. They are shining reflections and visible symbols of the land we love.

Another U. S. President, John F. Kennedy, wisely said, “A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.”² This day and forever, let us remember with gratitude our worthy servicemen and women and pray for heaven’s blessings upon them.

<sup>1. Speech at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, published in New York Times, June 29, 2005, http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/29/world/americas/29iht-web.0629bushtext.html.
2. Remarks at Amherst College, Oct. 26, 1963, http://www.jfklibrary.org/Asset-Viewer/80308LXB5kOPFEJqkw5hlA.aspx.</sup>

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The year was 1918, the close of World War I. An American Red Cross nurse wrote a letter to the mother of a soldier who had died shortly after the armistice was signed. He had made it through the terrors of war without injury and then, sadly, succumbed in the hospital to pneumonia. Wanting the mother to have more than a brief message from the military about her son’s death, the nurse wrote of what she called the “little things that mean so much to a mother far away from her boy.”

“He was brave and cheerful,” she wrote, “and made a good fight with the disease” until he was too weak to go on. Now, she continued, he “sleeps under a simple white wooden cross among his comrades who, like him, have died for their country. . . . I enclose here a few leaves from the grass that grows near in a pretty meadow.”1

The nurse must have known that the mother had loved her son because that love was reflected in the way he loved others, laughing and talking “to the people around him as long as he was able.”2

And isn’t that what makes a mother? Profound and abiding love for a child. Inspired by that love, mothers are examples, leaders, diplomats, listeners, mediators, and mentors within and beyond the walls of their homes. And with that love, mothers shape the future, one person at a time.

For the most part, a mother’s skills are learned on the job. A mother has common sense not found in books, patience to wait up for a teenager, steadiness to keep smiling when the only word a toddler says is “no,” and forgiveness that holds these dear ones together—and ultimately holds society together too.

The nurse concluded her letter with a tribute to the soldier’s mother that could be penned about mothers everywhere. She wrote, “The country will always . . . honor you for the gift of your boy, but be assured, that the sacrifice is not in vain, and the world is better today for it.”3

1. Maude B. Fisher, in War Letters: Extraordinary Correspondence from American Wars, ed. Andrew Carroll (2001), 170-71.
2. Fisher, in War Letters, 171.
3. Fisher, in War Letters, 171.

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