--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Kleinman, Bertha A. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 24 number: 2 published: 1920-12 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Kleinman, Bertha A., "Up to Me," *Improvement Era* 24, no. 2 (December 1920): 119.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2402unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2402unse start_page: 119 end_page: 119 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1920-12) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2402unse publication_year: 1920 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1920, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Up to Me FINDING GOD IN MILLERSVILLE 119 know that God is a working partner in the Millersville Cut- lery works; that he attends a directors' meeting every night. For making our three hundred people happier we have a thou- sand plans that we haven't sprung yet, because to work them out will require time. No prayer meetings are held in our plant, but there's a smile on every single face in it. Atid I've come to believe that the real symbol of religion is just that — a smile. That's the story, sketchily and badly told, but true. There's only one thing to add, and that is I'm glad my grandmother passed on to what she was always speaking of as her "reward" five years ago. A story such as this would have seemed to her so irreverent as to endanger my chance of eternal salvation. But it does not seem to me irreverent to take Him at his own estimate, to talk with him and about him familiarly. He has said he is a Father; surely no father wants his children to trem- ble at his name. But grandmother could never have realized that. Her God sat on a golden throne, thundering his wrath against the wicked, and visiting trials upon the righteous to test their devotion. By no possible feat of faith could she have pictured him as I do, working side by side with me, talking with me about my prob- lems, smiling, yes, actually laughing as step by step we make our three hundred people happier — loving, counseling, fighting for better men and women, right here in Millersville. Up To Me It counts so little who I am, or when I live, or where, It only counts me how I live and do my daily share. It means so little what I plan, or what my dreams portend. If, after all, my hands should fail to serve some worthy end. It does not matter what I have, or what it takes to live, If selfishness precludes my plan, and I have naught to give. It matters little what I know, and nothing what I boast, It only matters how I grow, and fill my measure most. It doesn't matter what my faith, or what my caste or creed, It only matters how I work, and how God scores the deed. It need not matter what my friends or enemies may say, But much, 0 much, it matters how I live my little day. Bertha A. Kleinman Mesa, Arizona