Jet Mariano

Tag: Draper Utah Temple

  • MIT8 – Bad breaks and trusting the Lord

    Super Harvest Moon rising through thin clouds over the Draper Utah Temple. Double exposure, short telephoto (70–100 mm f/2.8) on tripod.

    Excerpt
    Setbacks aren’t a verdict; they’re the venue. What feels like a bad break can become a disguised doorway when we trust the Lord’s larger view.

    Intro
    Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught that “bad breaks need not ruin a good man or a good woman… so often in life opportunity comes disguised as tragedy,” and, “trust the Lord, for He sees your possibilities even when you do not.” Those lines met me this week. Sleep was thin, appetite gone, heart stretched—but even the stretch nudged me heavenward.

    Perspective
    There are no super heroes in IT—no capes, no instant rescues. Systems fail, humans tire, plans bend. The real test is not whether I dodge hard things but whether I meet them with faith, honesty, and steady work. Joseph didn’t waste Egypt, and Job didn’t waste ash and silence. I don’t want to waste my own classroom of adversity.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • Whisper a prayer of trust: “Lord, I choose to keep trying.”
    • Do one quiet act of goodness for someone who can’t repay you.
    • Write a single line of gratitude for help you didn’t expect.
    • Sit in a patch of light—outside or by a window—and breathe until your shoulders lower.

    Final Reflection
    Worry took sleep and appetite, yet the Lord met me in the stretch. He didn’t remove the weight; He strengthened my will and widened my view. A bad break does not define me; how I walk through it, with Him, refines me.

    Pocket I’m Keeping
    “Proving is strengthening.” When the wind rises, roots go deeper.

    What I Hear Now
    Be steadfast. Keep moving toward Me. I know how to carry you.

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  • I Feel The Answer

    Draper Utah Temple — A rainbow of promise through the branches.

    Intro
    Some moments arrive quietly but carry the weight of eternity. This season has taken me away from the work I love, yet placed me in a space where the Lord can speak more directly. It feels like a “calling” — not just an assignment, but an invitation to walk a path I did not expect, at a time I did not plan.

    A calling can refine you, but it can also break you — I know this firsthand. When I lost my father and my younger brother, the grief was so heavy it lingered for over a year, leaving me with a frozen shoulder and a frozen spirit. But in that stillness, I learned something I now carry with me: when you are not preoccupied, when your heart is still enough, Heaven can speak — and you will hear.

    In 1987, during my Seminary days, there was a song in our Free to Choose program called I Feel the Answer. Its words spoke to the questions of a heart unsure yet willing, and today those words still echo in me.

    I Feel The Answer

    How I wish this hadn’t come right now,
    With so much on my mind.
    I just don’t think I’m ready for a calling of this kind —
    Where do I turn to, searching for me?

    Does He know me even better than I know myself?
    When I am sure that I can’t do it, can I turn to Him for help?
    And will He answer? Will He give me peace?

    More than air to breathe, I need to know
    If what I feel is right — Father, hear my pleading.
    Let me see the light. I’ll do whatever You ask me to do.

    And yes… I feel the answer.
    He calls my name and whispers to my soul.
    And oh, His gentle answer heals my aching heart — and I am whole.
    Heals my aching heart — and I am whole.

    Sometimes, a calling feels like a classroom. Sometimes, a setback is a sacred appointment. And sometimes, the answer doesn’t come as a trumpet blast, but as a whisper — so quiet you only hear it when you pause. In those still moments, He calls your name, and you know — you are exactly where He needs you to be.

    In this quiet stretch of life, I’ve learned that solitude isn’t the absence of connection — it’s the space where Heaven’s voice becomes unmistakably clear. Away from the noise and demands, I’ve come to see that even the pauses in our path are part of His perfect timing.

    Recently, the Spirit carried me back to a sacred temple moment, where familiar faces seemed etched with eternity — not just in their features, but in the quiet witness of the soul. At times, the Lord grants us glimpses of recognition that reach beyond mortal memory, as if to remind us that His hand has been guiding our paths long before we knew it.

    It was a quiet confirmation that the same Spirit who whispered then is still speaking now — through remembrance, through reflection, and through the gentle truth that our journeys, though carved by different streams, are being guided toward the same horizon. And in those moments, just as the song I Feel the Answer says, “He calls my name and whispers to my soul” — and I feel the answer.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

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