Jet Mariano

Tag: faith

  • The Unwavering Light (Manila Philippines Temple)

    Manila Philippines Temple — I waited for the exact second the sun aligned with the spire. The light pierced through just as if Heaven itself whispered, “I’m still here.”

    Excerpt

    The sun hid behind the spire—then broke through. That light reminded me of a different storm long ago, when a screen turned blue, and I learned that faith and persistence are built the same way: line upon line, brick by brick.

    Intro

    November 1999. The world was bracing for Y2K. I was working for an aerospace company in Carson, California, getting ready to drive my parents to LAX for their flight to the Philippines. Before leaving, I decided to double-check our Veritas backup on the Exchange 5.5 server running on Windows NT 4.0. Then came the dreaded BSOD—Blue Screen of Death.

    My shift was supposed to end at 4 PM Friday. I didn’t go home until Monday morning. No sleep, no shortcuts—just brick-by-brick rebuilding until email was restored. I missed saying goodbye to my parents, but I kept the company connected.

    Notes from Elder Maxwell

    “You’ve all been in a storm… when you couldn’t see the sun but you knew it was still there. Likewise, in the stormy and dark moments of life know that the Son of God is always there. His light will never go out.”

    That quote became my anchor—both in IT and in life.

    Perspective

    That night taught me more than any certification. There was no Google, no AI, no online forums—just manuals, backups, and faith that the system could rise again. Today, AI fixes in seconds what once took days. But the light that kept me going then still burns now: the belief that persistence itself is a form of faith.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • When systems—or souls—crash, don’t panic. Pause, breathe, and build.
    • Keep working, even if it’s one file or one prayer at a time.
    • Remember: the Light is constant, even if the screen goes dark.

    Final Reflection

    The Manila Temple photo symbolizes that memory. When the sun broke through the spire, I felt the same quiet assurance I knew in 1999: He never left me. The blue screen, the missed flight, the fatigue—it was all part of learning that perseverance is light in motion.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    The Light never goes out—only our view of it does.

    What I Hear Now

    “Faith is not seeing the light; it’s working until it returns.”

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

  • The Night I Wouldn’t Quit (Seattle Temple, 14°F)

    Seattle Washington Temple — 14°F, suit and tie, icy pavement underfoot. I slipped once, stood again, and framed this shot while the moon played peek-a-boo above the spire. My camera gear cushioned the fall, my faith kept me standing.

    Excerpt

    Sometimes the light we chase nearly costs us everything. But when we stand back up—cold, bruised, and trembling—we find not just the shot, but the story that defines us.

    Intro

    It was 14°F in Seattle. I was dressed in a suit and tie for a wedding when the moon began to play peek-a-boo behind the temple spire. I scouted the icy pavement for the right angle, slipped hard, and hit the ground. My camera backpack broke the fall. Still, I stayed—shot after shot—until my legs began to stiffen from the cold. Gathering what energy I had left, I ran toward the temple’s visitor center. Kind hands brought me into a heated room and warmed me back to life.
    That night reminded me why I rarely back down—from freezing weather, failing systems, or storms that test the soul. The temple stood unshaken, and so did I.

    Why I kept going: It wasn’t skill—it was discipline. A simple, healthy routine and a promise to avoid quick fixes helped me stay steady. I’m not the smartest; I’m just “never say die.” I started from zero, and service keeps me moving.

    Notes from {Speaker}

    • Courage isn’t the absence of cold; it’s pressing the shutter before the light fades.
    • Sometimes the miracle isn’t surviving—it’s still choosing to serve after you do.
    • The temple teaches us that endurance and grace can share the same frame.

    Perspective

    In IT, storms don’t always come from the sky—they come from critical outages, failed updates, and people relying on you at impossible hours. I’ve faced those too—sometimes while boarding flights or crossing oceans. I was in the Philippines before COVID and still handled tickets for a U.S. client. At Incheon Airport, I restored a VM. In Western Samoa, I fixed email for a company thousands of miles away. Once, 29,000 feet above ground, my soft-phone rang mid-flight—Tahiti users couldn’t send email. I helped them anyway.
    You could call me a workaholic. I call it love for helping people.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • When fatigue hits, serve once more—small acts reignite large faith.
    • Write down one storm you’ve survived and what it taught you.
    • Find a temple—or a quiet place—and let stillness thaw your heart.

    Final Reflection

    My life has felt like a series of tours of duty—local government, universities, law firms, manufacturing, perinatal, and home builders—each relying on me as a “Swiss knife” of IT. After the 2012 recession, I lost clients but not calling. I passed the business to my son and returned to corporate life in 2014.

    “Vacation?” I can’t recall one. Every trip seemed to bring a new emergency. But I’ve learned to see service as my rest—because helping others is where my soul finds warmth. I’ve done this since before Google or AI existed, when documentation came from books and discipline.

    Through it all, the pattern holds—stand a little longer, look for the moon, run for warmth when you must, and let the temple remind you that light is never lost to the cold.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    Light is rarely free; it asks something of us.

    What I Hear Now

    “If the only thing you take into the storm is faith, it will be enough.”
    “Composition comes back after compassion—first for yourself, then for others.”

    Link to the Talk

    My IT Journey — the long road that led to that frozen night at the Seattle Temple.

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

  • MIT8: “The Healing Power of Service”

    Lightning breaks over Saratoga Springs Temple—framed through the open driver’s window, with rain reflections and the flower bed lit by my Tesla.

    Behind the Shot (BTS)

    I waited patiently for the perfect lightning strike, switching my iPhone to video mode so I could later capture the exact frame. I parked strategically, rolled down the driver’s window, and composed the scene—rain-slick path, temple reflection, and the flower bed on the left illuminated by my Tesla’s headlights. I took over fifty shots, braving 55-mph winds and heavy rain until I was drenched to the bone.

    Tesla’s Summon feature became my safety net—it allows the car to move itself up to 20 feet in a straight line. I’ve visited this temple many times and know exactly where to park during storms like this. When the lightning finally hit, my car quietly rolled beside me, heater set to 75°, ready to bring warmth after the storm.

    Excerpt

    Setbacks lose their sting when we turn outward. The surest cure for heaviness of heart is to lift another’s. In serving, we find strength we didn’t know we still had.

    Intro

    After proxy endowment at the Saratoga Springs Temple, rain came hard—55 mph winds, lightning cracking over the spire. I was soaked through but determined to capture the moment. This week was one of the toughest—under the weather, training a new engineer, racing the Windows 10 → 11 deadline. Yet, even weary, I pressed on. Elder Neal A. Maxwell once said, “When difficulties come, don’t feel sorry for yourself. Lose yourself in service… When you feel down, lift other people up.” That truth steadied me more than the storm.

    Perspective

    In IT, storms don’t always come from the sky—they come from deadlines, downtime, and people who depend on you. The temptation to withdraw is strong, but the gospel has taught me that light returns when I reach outward. Service becomes medicine: teaching, fixing, lifting, sharing, mentoring. Each act reorders the soul toward purpose. The temple reminded me that the Lord’s work never pauses for weather, and neither should mine.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    When exhaustion whispers, “You’ve done enough,” I’ll answer with quiet action. I’ll keep helping the next person who needs guidance—whether that’s a coworker puzzled by PowerShell or a friend weighed down by unseen battles. The Savior’s healing always flowed outward; so must mine.

    Final Reflection

    The downpour cleansed more than the temple steps—it washed away my self-pity. I realized that serving amid struggle doesn’t drain me; it refills me. My soaked jacket, cold hands, and the warmth of my car’s heater at 75° felt symbolic: heaven never leaves its servants freezing in the storm.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    “Lose yourself in service.” When the clouds gather again, I’ll remember this night of lightning and light—how the act of giving steadied the heart that was slipping.

    What I Hear Now

    “Lift others. That’s how I’ll lift you.”
    The whisper wasn’t from the wind but from the One who calms it.

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

  • 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.

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

  • Hidden in Plain Sight: Camouflage, Storms, and the Light That Never Fades

    Green dragonfly camouflaged among yellow-green croton leaves; wings catch a thin line of light.

    Excerpt

    A dragonfly vanishes into the croton leaves—nearly invisible until the light catches its wings. Even when we can’t see, the Light is still there.

    Intro

    Elder Neal A. Maxwell compared life’s dark weather to a storm where we cannot see the sun but know it is still there. Likewise, in our stormy moments the Son of God remains constant. This image of a camouflaged dragonfly became a quiet parable of that promise.

    Notes from Elder Maxwell

    • “You’ve all been in a storm… when you couldn’t see the sun but you knew it was still there. Likewise… the Son of God is always there. His light will never go out.”
    • Hope is not wishful thinking; it is trust in a steady, unwavering Light.
    • Our task is to keep moving by faith when sight is momentarily withheld.

    Perspective

    Camouflage works because color and pattern mimic the surroundings. Fear does the same—blending truth into the noise until guidance seems gone. But the Light hasn’t moved. Shift your angle, breathe, and let the glare settle; suddenly the wings glint, and direction returns.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • When anxiety spikes, pause and pray: “I know You’re here even if I can’t see.”
    • Name one current “storm,” then write one way Christ has lifted you before.
    • Look for small glints—scripture lines, kindness, music—that catch the light.

    Final Reflection

    Faith is the discipline of remembering the sun in a storm and the Savior in shadow. The scene may hide Him for a moment; it cannot extinguish Him.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    “His light will never go out.”

    What I Hear Now

    Hold course. Let Me be your fixed point while the weather passes.

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

  • Waiting for Wings: Patience, Light, and a Morning Butterfly

    Morning butterfly perched on a dew-tipped blade of grass, reflected in still water as sun rays break through—an image of quiet patience and light.

    Excerpt

    Patience is not indifference—it’s caring deeply and trusting God’s timing. This image came from quiet hours beside dew and light, waiting for a butterfly to choose the leaf.

    Intro

    Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught that patience is “caring very much” while submitting to “the process of time.” It partners with faith, agency, humility, and love. Photographers know that rhythm: you prepare, you wait, you don’t rush the scene—and grace arrives.

    Link to the Devotional

    “Patience” by Elder Neal A. Maxwell (BYU Devotional)

    Notes from Elder Maxwell

    • Patience isn’t passive; it’s faithful submission to God’s wiser timetable.
    • We “run with patience,” not a sprint—enduring well, not merely long.
    • Patience protects agency—we don’t force outcomes or people.
    • It ripens discernment: we learn what matters most and let lesser things rest.
    • Tribulation “worketh patience,” which yields experience and the “peaceable fruit of righteousness.”

    Photo Field Notes

    Early-morning dew, low angle, and stillness. I set a full-frame body with a Nikon 105mm f/2.8G on a spider tripod, remote trigger attached. I hid off-axis, letting the leaf steady and the light settle. The butterfly came only when the world quieted enough to feel safe. Exposure and focus were ready—the rest required waiting.

    Perspective

    Macro work is a sermon in inches. If I keep opening the “oven door,” the scene falls flat. When I trust the light, honor the creature’s freedom, and wait, the frame fills with reverence. So it is with discipleship: God’s work in us is real but rarely rushed.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • Replace one hurry with one holy pause.
    • Let someone else’s agency breathe; resist “fixing.”
    • Choose one worthy thing and stay with it past the fidgets.
    • Pray, “Let patience have her perfect work in me.”

    Final Reflection

    Patience is obedience prolonged—faith that keeps the shutter half-pressed until grace enters the frame. God’s timing is not late; it is luminous.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    “Patience makes possible a personal spiritual symmetry.” (Maxwell)

    What I Hear Now

    Wait with Me. I’m shaping both the moment and you.

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

  • Sunflower Faith: Strength to Keep Trying

    a monarch resting on a sunflower — a living parable of light, patience, and lift.

    Excerpt

    When trials feel like too much, remember: the Lord proves us to strengthen us. Like a butterfly on a sunflower, we are held up by light we didn’t make and warmth we didn’t earn.

    Intro

    Elder Henry B. Eyring taught that through the glorious Atonement, Jesus Christ knows exactly how to succor us. Strength doesn’t grow in comfort; it grows when we feel stretched beyond what we thought we could bear. If we continue in faith — especially when it feels impossible — we become spiritually stronger.

    Notes from Conference (Oct 5, 2025 General Conference)

    • Christ can succor perfectly because He has felt every mortal challenge.
    • Proving times are strengthening times, not signs of abandonment.
    • Discipleship is continuing — never giving up, always trying again in Him.
    • Faith while it’s hard invites His power to change us.

    Perspective

    God is mindful — of sunflowers and butterflies, and even more of souls. Elder Neal A. Maxwell reminded us that there are more stars than grains of sand, yet “souls matter more than stars.” If heaven attends to sparrows and petals, it will not forget your name, your tears, or your next step.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • Whisper a prayer of trust: “Lord, I choose to keep trying.”
    • Do one small act of goodness for someone who can’t repay you.
    • Write a 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

    The Atonement is not just rescue; it is renewable strength. Trials may bend us, but in Christ they do not break us. Keep turning your face to the light. He will meet you where courage runs thin and hope begins again.

    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.

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

  • Soul-Stretching Days: Learning to Let God Shape Me

    Night setup: Nikon 14–24mm f/2.8G on tripod • Manual/Bulb • 30-second exposure • f/2.8 • ISO 2400

    Excerpt
    It struck on a day I never expected—like the day I lost my father, on my birthday. The same jolt ⚡️ twice. Bitter and sweet at once.

    Intro
    Some experiences arrive unannounced and unforgettable. The day held joy—time with loved ones, a wonderful dinner, thoughtful gifts 🎁 (I treasure shirts and cologne and keep them for years). Yet the soul-stretching overshadowed the sweetness, and the ache still lingers.

    Notes from Elder Neal A. Maxwell
    • “It takes time to prepare for eternity.”
    • God customizes our curriculum—He gives what we need, not always what we like.
    • Discipleship is daily; steady choosing matters more than dramatic moments.
    • Meekness is strength under control.
    • Cheerfully submit: trust His timing and tutoring.
    • Be grounded and settled in Christ to endure well, not just long.

    Perspective
    The lingering pain doesn’t mean I failed; it means the lesson matters. Like completed IT projects etched in memory, some days don’t fade—they shape.

    Practice (today, not someday)
    • Pause to breathe and pray before I speak.
    • Trade rumination for one small act of service.
    • Write three lines of gratitude (including a gift I’ll lovingly keep).
    • Use meek words with firm boundaries.

    Final Reflection
    Bitter because it hurt. Sweet because love showed up. Both can be true while God stretches my capacity for trust and kindness.

    Pocket I’m keeping
    “Customized by a loving Father.” Not random storms—tailored tutoring.

    What I hear now
    Be still. Do the next right thing. Let Me do the shaping.

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

  • MIT8 — “Don’t You Quit” (Disneyland Fireworks)

    Sleeping Beauty Castle during the fireworks, framed by the Partners statue. Tripod + remote shutter, long exposure on the 14–24mm f/2.8G. Manual focus, no flash.

    Why this fits Elder Holland

    Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: “Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead… Some blessings come soon, some come late… but they come.”
    Fireworks are a patience test. You compose in the dark, wait through false starts, and trust the next burst will fill the sky. That is discipleship in miniature: keep your place, stay steady, believe light is coming.

    Pocket I’m keeping

    When life feels like a long exposure with nothing on the sensor yet, don’t touch the tripod. Hold your ground. Keep praying, keep working, keep walking. The frame will fill.

    BTS (how I made it)

    • Arrived early to anchor composition on Walt & Mickey leading to the castle and sky
    • Tripod low, remote shutter to avoid vibration; manual focus set before showtime
    • Long exposure to “draw” fans and heart-shapes in the air; no flash to keep ambient color
    • Wide at 14–18mm to include crowd, statue, castle, and sky in one story

    Final reflection

    Walt’s “dreams come true” meets Elder Holland’s “don’t you quit.” Courage starts the dream; covenant faith finishes it. Stay close to Christ and keep moving—light always finds the faithful.

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

  • Marked in Time — Be Still, and Know That I Am God

    Night photo of the Salt Lake Temple mirrored perfectly in a still reflection pool, symbolizing inner spiritual stillness and a life founded on Christ.

    Excerpt
    Be still—and know.

    Intro
    A journalist walked from a celestial room and whispered, “I didn’t know stillness like that existed.” Elder Bednar invites us past outer quiet into inner spiritual stillness—the kind that fixes our hearts on the Father and the Son, even as life stays loud.

    Notes from the Message

    • “Be still” is more than not moving; it’s remembering and relying on Jesus Christ in all times, things, and places.
    • Build on the Rock: Christ isn’t merely beneath us; we fasten our foundation to Him. Covenants and ordinances are the anchor pins and steel rods that tie our souls to bedrock.
    • Sacred time & holy places—Sabbath, temple, and home—train the soul in stillness and covenant focus.
    • As covenants deepen, virtue garnishes thought, confidence before God grows, the Holy Ghost becomes a constant companion—we become grounded, rooted, established, settled.

    Perspective (direct lines & scriptures)
    “Be still, and know that I am God.”
    “Remember, remember… build your foundation upon the rock of our Redeemer.” (Helaman 5:12)
    “Hope… maketh an anchor to the souls of men.” (Ether 12:4)

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • Give God sacred time: one unhurried Sabbath moment, one honest sacrament prayer, one temple appointment on the calendar.
    • Make home a holy place tonight: turn down the noise, turn up gratitude, read one covenant promise.
    • Re-anchor: Grounded • Rooted • Established • Settled.

    Final Reflection
    Foundations don’t hold by accident; they hold because they’re tied to the Rock. In a whirlwind world, covenant connection creates interior calm—the stillness where we know and remember: God is our Father; we are His children; Jesus is our Savior. From that stillness, we can do and overcome hard things.

    Pocket I’m Keeping
    Covenants are my anchor pins; Christ is my bedrock.

    What I Hear Now
    Be still—build on Him—do not fall.

    Link of the talk: Elder David A. Bednar — “Be Still, and Know That I Am God” (April 2024 General Conference)

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

  • Spiritual Momentum: Five Small Choices that Move Mountains

    St. George Utah Temple — staged long-exposure. I set the camera on a tripod, framed the composition, and patiently waited for a car to pass and paint light across the scene while the moon peeked through the clouds. Momentum takes patience—and a steady heart.

    Excerpt

    Small, steady choices create spiritual momentum. Tonight I staged the scene—one camera locked down for a 20-second exposure while I waited for a car to drive slowly and paint light across the temple. Planned movement, steady heart.

    When life feels hot and hurried, deep roots matter. President Russell M. Nelson shows us how to build momentum that lasts—covenant by covenant, day by day.

    Intro

    Momentum changes games—and lives. President Nelson compared it to a team that grabbed two quick baskets before halftime and never looked back. “Momentum is a powerful concept.” In discipleship, positive spiritual momentum keeps us moving when heat, headlines, or hard days try to slow us down. And while “none of us can control nations or the actions of others or even members of our own families,” we can control ourselves. His five invitations—small, steady choices—gather power:

    1. Get on the covenant path (and stay).
    2. Discover the joy of daily repentance.
    3. Learn about God and how He works.
    4. Seek and expect miracles.
    5. End conflict in your personal life.

    Notes from President Nelson (Sep 2022)

    • “With all the pleadings of my heart, I urge you to get on the covenant path and stay there.”
    • “Ordinances and covenants give us access to godly power. The covenant path is the only path that leads to exaltation and eternal life.”
    • “Please do not fear or delay repenting. Satan delights in your misery. Cut it short. Cast his influence out of your life! Start today to experience the joy of putting off the natural man.”
    • Daily worship/study nourishes testimony; without it, faith can crumble “with frightening speed.”
    • “God has not ceased to be a God of miracles.” Do the spiritual work and believe, “doubting nothing.”
    • “I plead with you to do all you can to end personal conflicts that are currently raging in your hearts and in your lives.”
    • Promise: acting on these brings increased momentum, strength to resist, more peace of mind, freedom from fear, and greater family unity.

    Perspective

    • Covenant power is real. Baptism, sacrament, and temple covenants plug us into godly power.
    • Repentance is progress, not punishment. “Please do not fear or delay repenting… Cut it short… Start today…”
    • The climb is designed to change us. “Now, a caution: Returning to the covenant path does not mean that life will be easy. This path is rigorous and at times will feel like a steep climb. This ascent, however, is designed to test and teach us, refine our natures, and help us to become saints. It is the only path that leads to exaltation.”
    • Peacemaking is discipleship. Ending conflict invites the Prince of Peace into the room.
    • Miracles may take time and may not match our first request—but the Lord moves the mountain in His way, in His time.

    Practice (today, not someday)

    Pick one small action to spark momentum today:

    • Schedule the temple (or step toward worthiness with your bishop).
    • Write one concrete repentance step; do it before bed.
    • Give God 10 undistracted minutes—scripture + prayer.
    • Ask for one needed miracle and the faith to act.
    • Make peace with one person (forgive or seek forgiveness).

    Final Reflection

    My staged photo worked because the camera stayed still while the light moved. Discipleship is the same: a heart fixed on covenants lets grace “paint” our lives with motion and light. Small, holy repetitions—repent, learn, believe, reconcile—create a current that carries us when our own strength fades.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    “Walking the covenant path, coupled with daily repentance, fuels positive spiritual momentum.” That’s my pocket sentence for the week.

    What I Hear Now

    Keep the camera steady—covenant steady. Let Me provide the light and the timing. Do the small things today; I’ll handle the mountains.

    Link to the talk

    President Russell M. Nelson, “The Power of Spiritual Momentum.” (General Conference)

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

  • Marked in Time — “If Thou Endure Well” (Neal A. Maxwell)

    Saratoga Springs Utah Temple with a rising waxing gibbous moon.

    Excerpt
    None of us is immune from trial. Elder Neal A. Maxwell teaches that if we endure well, today’s struggles are shaped into tomorrow’s blessings. Here’s my mark-in-time takeaway and how I’m applying it.

    Intro
    I listened again to Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s devotional “If Thou Endure Well.” The sentence that stayed with me: None of us can or will be immune from the trials of life. However, if we learn to endure our struggles well, they will be turned into blessings in eternity. That’s both bracing and kind—God doesn’t waste pain when we place it in His hands.

    Straight line (what he’s saying)
    • Mortality guarantees opposition; surprise is optional.
    • Enduring well ≠ grim hanging-on; it’s faithful submission, patience, and continuing to choose light.
    • Timing is part of God’s tutoring—deliverance sometimes tarries so discipleship can deepen.
    • Gratitude and meekness change how trials shape us. They don’t shorten the storm, but they change the sailor.
    • The Lord consecrates affliction to our gain when we refuse cynicism and keep covenant routines (scripture, prayer, sacrament, service).

    Final reflection
    Enduring well is a decision repeated—quietly—over and over. It’s choosing not to narrate my trial as abandonment, but as apprenticeship. It’s trusting that God is doing more with my life than I can see from the shoreline.

    Pocket I’m keeping
    • Expect opposition; practice patience on purpose.
    • Pair prayers with small, durable acts (keep the next covenant, serve the next person, take the next right step).
    • Measure “progress” by faithfulness, not by ease.

    What I hear now
    Tonight’s images—reflections, a quiet bench, a waxing gibbous over the spire—feel like a lesson in waiting. I can’t rush the moon to its mark, but I can keep framing, steady my hands, and choose light again. If I endure well, God will finish the alignment.

    Link to the talk
    Full devotional: “If Thou Endure Well” — Neal A. Maxwell (BYU Speeches).

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

  • “I Love To See The Temple”

    Jordan River Utah Temple — filmed today around 3:15 pm on the way home from work. Summer birds, soft wind, and a steady spire through the trees… “a place of love and beauty.”

    Intro
    On the way home I pulled over where the Jordan River Temple rises above the trees and filmed a slow, quiet pass. The line kept looping: “a place of love and beauty.” With the temple in view, “I’ll prepare myself…” didn’t sound like childhood someday—it sounded like a choice for today.

    Song
    I Love to See the Temple — Janice Kapp Perry

    I love to see the temple;
    I’m going there someday
    to feel the Holy Spirit,
    to listen and to pray.
    For the temple is a house of God—
    a place of love and beauty.
    I’ll prepare myself while I am young;
    this is my sacred duty.

    I love to see the temple;
    I’ll go inside someday.
    I’ll covenant with my Father;
    I’ll promise to obey.
    For the temple is a holy place
    where we are sealed together.
    As a child of God, I’ve learned this truth:
    a family is forever.

    Final Reflection
    This children’s hymn grows up with us. “I’ll go inside someday. I’ll cov’nant with my Father; I’ll promise to obey.” The melody is simple; the promises are not. Preparation is worship. Obedience is love in motion. And “As a child of God, I’ve learned this truth: A fam’ly is forever” is more than a lyric—it’s a covenant Christ makes possible in His house.

    What I hear now

    • Prepare beats postpone. If it’s “my sacred duty,” act today.
    • Covenants quietly reorder life. “I’ll promise to obey” changes calendars and priorities.
    • Keep the temple in frame. Let “a place of love and beauty” shape how I speak, serve, and schedule.
    • Family is the point. Live so “a fam’ly is forever” feels true at home, not just in song.

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  • His Image in Your Countenance

    Rain on the glass, light in the heart—‘Have you received His image in your countenance?

    Intro
    Yesterday after work, I was driving in the rain and decided to swing by the Taylorsville Utah Temple to photograph it through the windshield. The lyric asks, “Does the Light of Christ shine in your eyes?” Storms don’t decide that—presence does. The rain softened everything, but the temple remained steady, a quiet reminder of “a beauty from within.”

    His Image in Your Countenance (Janice Kapp Perry) — full song

    With no apparent beauty that man should Him desire,
    He was the promised Savior to purify with fire.
    The world despised His plainness, but those who followed Him
    Found love and light and purity—a beauty from within.

    Chorus
    Have you received His image in your countenance?
    Does the Light of Christ shine in your eyes?
    Will He know you when He comes again, for you shall be like Him?
    When He sees you, will the Father know His child?

    We seek for light and learning as followers of Christ,
    That all may see His goodness reflected in our lives.
    When we receive His fulness and lose desire for sin,
    We radiate His perfect love—a beauty from within.

    The ways of man may tempt us, and some will be deceived,
    Preferring worldly beauty, forgetting truth received.
    But whisperings of the Spirit remind us once again
    That lasting beauty, pure and clear, must come from deep within.

    Final Reflection
    Two lines won’t leave me: “Does the Light of Christ shine in your eyes?” and “We radiate His perfect love—a beauty from within.” The first is a question of identity; the second is a promise of overflow. Christ does not polish the surface—He converts the source. When His fulness displaces our old appetites, radiance stops being borrowed and starts being reflected. The world chases visibility; disciples seek visibility of Him. And like last night’s view, life can be rainy without being dim. If He is in frame, light still finds us—and then finds others through us.

    What I hear now

    • Holiness isn’t cosmetic; it’s conducted through a willing heart.
    • Eyes preach what lips can’t; let them carry peace.
    • Reflection over performance: light, not glare.
    • Repent quickly so the window stays clear.
    • Trade comparison for compassion; both can’t live in the same face.
    • Keep the Temple in frame when the week gets rainy.
    • Ask nightly: “Did someone feel His love in my countenance today?”

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
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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.

  • I’m Able: Climbing for Light, Capturing the Moon

    After hiking over 2,000 feet to my favorite mountain ridge, I waited in silence with my 1000mm + TC 2x lens—watching the Supermoon rise in full glory. It reminded me that some things are only visible to those willing to climb.
    From this 2K-foot summit, I waited with my 1000mm lens and 2x teleconverter. The shot was worth it. My eyes soaked in the rising Supermoon, but I wanted to remember the experience forever. It took patience, precise camera settings, and above all, an ‘I’m able’ attitude that brought me the stillness I needed. Here’s the result.

    That simple phrase didn’t just motivate me. It rejuvenated me. It reminded me that every setback I’ve endured, every delay, and every heartbreak was not the end—but a test of endurance. Like Edison, like Tesla, and like countless others who stood firm when things fell apart, I now carry this quiet fire inside me.
    No matter what the odds say—I’m able.
    And that means everything.

    I’m Able
    Poem by Jet Mariano

    I’m able—not because I’ve won,
    But because I choose to rise with the sun.
    I’m able—not from praise or might,
    But by standing up when wrong feels right.

    I’m able—through the tear-stained night,
    To cradle hope and guard the light.
    I’m able—though I walk alone,
    To make the climb and call it home.

    I’ve come to realize—I don’t need titles to prove my worth. I don’t measure myself by applause or position.
    What I carry is truth. Lived truth. Quiet truth. Hard-earned truth.
    And in those silent battles when no one’s watching, I remind myself:
    I’m able.
    And that means everything.

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

  • Somewhere in Life

    Sunrise behind the Taylorsville Temple — a reminder that even after storms, there’s light, a place prepared for us, and battles that can be won.

    There are moments when life’s rhythm seems to shift, as if unseen hands are arranging the day in ways we can’t quite explain. Today feels like one of those moments. My morning began with simple exchanges, yet carried an undertone of purpose. Last night’s dream—more like a second visit from the other side—lingers in my mind, as if to say, you’re not walking alone.

    It brought to mind the song Somewhere in Life from the 1979 Gates of Zion Seminary album, recorded during the time President Spencer W. Kimball was the prophet. I know these songs well because I served as a CES Institute Director from 1987 to 1990, a season in my life where music like this carried deep spiritual lessons to youth—and, unexpectedly, to me as well. Its words about “storms of evil that cloud your view” and “a hand to hold” speak directly to my journey.

    Somewhere in life there’ll be darkness too
    Storms of evil moments that cloud your view
    And yet in life you’ll find that Morning Sun
    You’ll find a battle won

    Somewhere in life there’s a place for you
    Far away from forces you can’t subdue
    Somewhere in life there be someone to know
    There’ll be a hand to hold

    The assurance that “there’s a place for you” feels especially real today, and with it, the quiet courage to keep moving forward until, as the song says, “you’ll find a battle won.”

    This ties closely to my August 12 “Storm of Life” reflection. Back then, I wrote about facing trials head-on and finding calm in the eye of the storm. Today, I feel that same calm as I prepare to enter the Taylorsville Temple—not just to perform a proxy endowment, but to lay the names of loved ones on the altar, trusting in the Lord’s timing.

    Final Reflection
    Life’s battles are rarely fought on visible fields. Most are waged in the quiet spaces of our hearts, where faith pushes back against fear. My dream reminded me that heaven is closer than we think, and the song from Gates of Zion reminds me that somewhere in life—right here, right now—there’s still a hand to hold, a place prepared, and a victory ahead.

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

  • Marked in Time — Learn to Love the Storm (Provo City Center Temple)

    Provo City Center Temple under lightning—shot from the walkway with leading lights. A reminder I first learned in 2018 after that T-bone crash: storms can shake you, but they don’t decide the ending.

    Excerpt
    Learn to love the storm.

    Intro
    Storms touch every life—loss, illness, missed chances, worry. In IT they hit at 2 a.m., at airports, on freeways, even overseas. Like weather carves a canyon, adversity shapes a soul. Preparation helps—docs, reps, calm breath—until we learn not just to endure but to embrace the rhythm.

    Backstory
    Second week of January 2018, on my way to photograph Provo City Center Temple, a driver T-boned my car. He was arrested on the spot. I blacked out for a few seconds—came back, shaken but okay—and still made it to the temple. That night taught me: storms hit hard, but they don’t have to end the story. Funny enough, as I write this, American Pie wanders through a verse about endings. I’m grateful mine wasn’t.

    Notes from the Journey
    Urgency doesn’t wait; readiness is mercy. Pressure reveals what practice built. Quiet faith plus steady habits turns chaos into clarity.

    Practice (today, not someday)
    Prep what future-you will need (one checklist, one page of notes). When the alert hits: breathe, bless, begin. Re-anchor: Grounded • Rooted • Established • Settled.

    Final Reflection
    Loving the storm doesn’t mean pretending it doesn’t hurt. Some trials mark the body and the heart. Yet the covenant echo remains: “Thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment… and shall be for thy good.” (D&C 121:7; 122:7) In tech and in life, Murphy visits often; I’ll meet him ready, resilient, and willing—trusting that beyond the thunder, I keep moving.

    Pocket I’m Keeping
    Prepared, prayerful, unafraid of weather.

    What I Hear Now
    Hold fast. Keep going between flashes.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
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  • Today or Tomorrow, Now or Then, Endure to the End

    I become what I will — not by gift, not by chance,
    but like this still house on the prairie, rooted by water, framed by sky —
    I endure. I reflect. Today or tomorrow, now or then.

    Intro Paragraph (Why this poem?)

    There are things I rarely speak, not because they don’t matter — but because they do. Some stories are too sacred to explain plainly. I’ve carried burdens for decades — for family, for faith, and sometimes for people who never knew. This poem is not a confession. It’s a quiet map of where I’ve been and what it cost me to endure. If you’ve ever sacrificed in silence, this is for you.

    Today or Tomorrow, Now or Then, Endure to the End

    by Jet Mariano

    I become what I will—
    not by gift,
    not by chance.

    They said it was for the dream.
    But I never dreamed of this.

    Not the hauling at midnight,
    the cold linoleum behind the receiving dock

    but never my name.

    I didn’t come with love in hand—
    I came with a debt to pay.
    To rescue a soul,
    and carry a family
    across a sea of impossibilities.

    A job at USC
    became a cure for my father,
    a lifeline for my family,
    a bridge for my siblings
    to find homes I would never live in.

    And still, I smiled.

    Though phone jobs stripped my voice,
    while I studied with red eyes and calloused faith,
    and slept beside hopelessness

    They think I’m quiet now.
    They don’t know I’ve just spoken enough pain
    for a hundred lifetimes.

    I write it in playlists
    that no one plays but me.
    I express it in photographs I create—
    where silence can finally breathe.

    I date it in the margins of scripture
    where no one else will read.

    Let them think I’ve always been composed.
    Let them think the IT job made me.
    I know what made me:

    A God who watched me
    hauling furniture in Burbank
    and still whispered,
    “You are mine.”

    Today or tomorrow,
    now or then,
    endure to the end.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
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  • There’s No One Now but You

    When all else faded, only You remained

    (Inspired by the journey of loss, growth, and grace)

    I felt so strong, so sure, so free,
    Believed the path belonged to me.
    No need for hands to guide or stay—
    I didn’t know I’d break this way.

    I chased the stars, ignored the signs,
    Built my dreams on shallow lines.
    But life, with quiet storms in view,
    Took all I had—and tested too.

    It seized the hope I once embraced,
    And left me wandering, soul displaced.
    I thought the shape of life was mine,
    Each step designed by grand design.

    I didn’t need You—so I claimed,
    Dismissed the whispers of Your name.
    But all along, in silence deep,
    You held the vows I failed to keep.

    And now the curtain’s torn in two,
    I see the world in clearer hue.
    No crowd remains to lean into—
    There’s no one now…
    but You.

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

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