Well, financially it's a little bit better. But it's better than

Hear, O children of perseverance, the humble words of Clay Aiken: “Well, financially it’s a little bit better. But it’s better than when I was a teacher. But I kind of—it’s allowed me to buy a house. And I’ve been able to help my mother with some stuff and my brother. So, that’s nice.” These words, though spoken softly and without pretense, carry a message as enduring as stone. For in them we hear not the boast of wealth, but the gratitude of one who has been given the means to lift not only himself, but also those whom he loves.

Once, he was a teacher, living simply, dedicating his days to the nurturing of others, earning enough only to sustain himself. Then fame came, carrying with it greater financial blessings. Yet, notice well, he does not measure his success by luxury or indulgence. He measures it by the roof he can place over his head, by the aid he can extend to his mother, by the relief he can provide to his brother. Thus, his words remind us of an ancient truth: that prosperity finds its noblest form not in self-indulgence, but in service to family and community.

So it has always been. In the days of Rome, the general Cincinnatus was called from his farm to defend the state. He gained great power and could have seized wealth beyond measure, yet when the task was done, he returned to his land, content. His honor lay not in riches, but in the well-being of his people. In the same way, Aiken’s measure of success is not the glory of fame, but the simple joy of being able to provide for those closest to him. To help one’s mother, to strengthen one’s brother—this is the essence of wealth.

The lesson shines with clarity: money itself is nothing but numbers, but in the hands of the grateful, it becomes a tool of compassion. It builds homes, it relieves burdens, it binds families together. True prosperity is not the mansion that towers over others, but the modest house filled with security and love. What Aiken calls “nice” is in truth profound: the peace of knowing he can give back to those who once gave to him.

Yet there is also humility here. He does not exalt himself as greater than when he was a teacher, for teaching remains among the most honorable of callings. Rather, he acknowledges that life’s path has changed, and with it, his ability to give. It is a reminder to us all that one’s worth is not in occupation nor in wealth, but in how both are used to bless others. The teacher and the artist alike find their greatness not in themselves, but in their service.

Practical wisdom flows: when you gain, do not clutch selfishly, but share. If fortune increases your store, let generosity increase with it. Help your parents, your siblings, your friends. Let those who once supported you feel the strength of your gratitude. And if wealth is not yours in abundance, give what you can—time, encouragement, care—for these are riches no thief can steal.

Thus, O children of tomorrow, remember this: prosperity is not measured by gold, but by generosity. To buy a house is good, but to make it a shelter for family is better. To rise in status is fine, but to lift others as you rise is divine. Let Clay Aiken’s words echo in your heart: it is “nice” to prosper—but it is glorious to prosper in a way that heals, uplifts, and honors those you love.