ON STARTING ALL OVER

Gettysburg Times - Apr 24, 1926

ON STARTING ALL OVER
By GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS

One of my friends, who is a famous writer, Don Herold by name, told me the other day that he had discarded all his idea files and memoranda slips, and that now he just wanted a clean mind and a clean piece of paper.

I have thought a great deal of my friend's statement. I wonder if most of us wouldn't profit if we started each day with a clean mind and a clean piece of paper.

The trouble with many of us is that we carry too much with us as we go along until we get our lives themselves all cluttered up and confused.

I have a friend who never gets stampeded. He cleans up as he goes. He seems ready at all times for the handling of a big or small problem. I often consult him feeling the strength of his superior control.

I have noted that when catastrophe or misfortune comes to such a part he never flinches and though all may be wiped from under his feet, he stands on his feet as nobly proud as before—and just goes on to rebuild better for all that he has lost.

Chicago and San Francisco built greater and better after having been burned and earthquaked.

That man or woman whose character has been through the fire, tried, tested and refined, has something to show the world for it all. And such people nearly always live to prove their worth.

It is no disgrace to start all over. It's usually an opportunity.

A clean mind, a clean piece of paper, an appreciation of all worth and goodness, of all beauty in this world, is something that no legacy no matter how rich or great, could possibly give.

THAT SOMEBODY

Gettysburg Times - Apr 24, 1926

THAT SOMEBODY

By GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS

There is in the lives of all of us at times—that somebody. That somebody who understands, who steps up and helps without being asked, that somebody who gives the glass of cool, fresh water, who soothes the troubled brow and presses the hand—just knowing, that's all.

That somebody who comes from nowhere seemingly, who wasn't expected, who didn't want to be detected—but how only wanted to be of service.

That somebody who is so fully acquainted with trouble, who has known defeat, who has walked the wine-press of genuine sorrow, that somebody who doesn't parade, who cares not at all for show, but who never hesitates at convention, or anything else if something generous and useful and beautiful may be performed.

That somebody who smiles at disaster, who brushes aside unjust criticism and walks proudly to the place where he feels that he can do a good job and then pass on.

That somebody to whom sleep and rest seem trivial when another cannot sleep and rest, that somebody with the super-human soul who sweetens the world with his breath as a flower with its perfume.

That somebody who is not afraid to soil his hands in toil, that somebody who who would go hungry to feed another, that somebody who doesn't care for display, acclaim or applause.

That somebody who is always looking around that he may find something unique to do at some unexpected moment for someone who needs it most.

You can't do too much for that somebody. You can't be too kind, too gentle, too thoughtful, too generous to that—somebody.

FAITH IN SOMEONE ELSE

Gettysburg Times - Apr 23, 1926

FAITH IN SOMEONE ELSE
By GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS

It is a little strange how just faith works. Especially when that faith comes out of the heart of someone else and is applied to you.

We keep our chins quite a deal higher because someone else has faith in us.

The misfortune of others touch us because we, too, have had them.

We have wanted people to pat us on the back, encouraging us. And so we take our opportunity to pat someone else on the back.

In reading a lovely book the other evening, called "Footsteps in a Parish" by John Timothy Stone, I came across this sentence about the man for whom the book was written: "To know Dr. Babcock well, to realize what a friend he could be—one must have trouble."

Faith given one in trouble often changes the course of one's life. A large number of the failures that are strewn about us are failures largely because faith wasn't poured their way.

When somebody has faith in us, and we know it, then we begin to climb.

But just let one person who is near and dear to us lose faith in us—and then the sun goes behind a cloud at once.

We would rather have our pay in this life come to us in the shape of faith in any other way.

Then why not put your faith in someone else? Why not keep giving your faith away—out at "interest", for instance?

THE VALUE OF TRIFLES

Gettysburg Times - Apr 20, 1926

THE VALUE OF TRIFLES
By GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS

Every day we live with things of marvelous value—not realizing or appreciating their worth. Most of these things are small in themselves.

It seems to be the habit of most people to let the most interesting, most beautiful, and the most fascinating things of human life just pass along. Like the tiny flower that waits so patiently in the valleys for someone to come along and love it—or even to notice it.

The little trifles of courtesy, thoughtfulness and consideration to many appear old fashioned and trite.

But it is by rightly appraising these very things in their value to human life, character and happiness that we learn the true and beautiful value of friendship itself.

Trifles of love and thoughtfulness are what make up the great spots in this universe.

There are plenty of people who go out of their way to do something spectacular, something that will attract attention to their deeds, but to do the out-of-the-way thing, and just be happy and satisfied over doing it is quite the rare thing.

Trifles that spring from the heart to be poured into someone's life are like rare gems.

Simple gifts, small remembrances, sacrifices that are genuine—these things renovate the heart and cleanse it for the larger efforts of life.

The little things, trifles, are the privilege of all.

I BELIEVE IN YOU

Gettusburg Times - Apr 17, 1926

I BELIEVE IN YOU
By GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS

In the summer of 1909 Theodore Roosevelt and Robert E. Peary met. Peary was about to set out on the ship “Roosevelt” for his final dash to attain the North Pole.

Each man grasped the other's hand. Roosevelt looked into the eyes of the great and intrepid explorer and gave this as his final goodbye: “I believe in you, Peary.”

April 6, 1909, the North Pole listened to the waving of the Stars and Stripes!

Many who visited the World's Fair in Chicago in the early nineties remember that famous picture: “Breaking Home Ties.” There were the different members of the family, including the dog. But the face and figure of the mother predominated in interest. It silently uttered: “My boy, I believe in you.”

You can walk around with a darkened heart. Tears may wash its walls. The lights may all be dimmed, and the wind and rain of the outer world may chill each one of its chambers. But if there can yet be heard within this divine creation of the great God just one echoing voice of faith and love from but a single one beloved and that voice saying but this “I believe in you,” then nothing else matters.

All of us at times breathe with an instinct of heaven in our souls.

Empires have been lost, states have been dissolved, cities have been deserted, and choice human beings have stumbled, starved in heart, and fallen in their trucks—all because there wasn't somebody around to say: “I believe in you!”

How cheap and gross is admiration, flattery, adulation and mechanical applause beside this little touch of words, imported from the stars: "I believe in you.”

After that, life, with all its impossible tasks, becomes possible. And worries melt like fresh dew before the morning sun.

LITTLE ENOUGH

Gettysburg Times - Apr 16, 1926

LITTLE ENOUGH
By GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS

It is only when the brave and simple nobility of some unheard of one shames us that we come to realize how really unimportant and useless we are.

No matter how hard we try to be somebody or to do something worth while it is little enough.

We shuttle too much through this life.

Ideals don't always have the gold rays of the sun upon them. Often they are darkened by the clouds of a storm. But it is our faith—that comes from somewhere—that leads us always and eventually into the light again.

No matter what we do for others, no matter how we try to make this world a little happier, it is never enough.

We can never be too kind, never do too much to make the way of some one else less difficult, never give too much of love.

The world is full of cravers. The hunger of the heart, of the soul, is a far nobler hunger than ever that of the body.

When the rain falls and the winds blow, adding gloom and loneliness, it is a little enough to go out of your way to do something that will put a light into the window of a life darkened by discouragement and loss.

How just a little bunch of white daisies changes all!