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.
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.
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.
Salt Lake Temple with bus light trails (5 s) and a second exposure for the moon’s detail—the driver was literally playing Don’t Stop Believin’.
Excerpt Headlights, moonlight, and a bus playing “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Intensity 10+.
Intro A passenger bus idled beside me on South Temple. I waited. When it finally pulled out, I opened a long exposure—the lights turned to wide ribbons across the Salt Lake Temple. Then I made a second, short exposure for the moon so its texture wouldn’t blow out. The street soundtrack? Don’t Stop Believin’. Right place, right song, right night.
Notes from the song (what’s good in it)
Hope is a direction, not denial.
Ordinary people + late nights + small steps → real progress.
Community lifts courage; we don’t walk alone.
Grit and wonder can share the same frame.
Perspective (direct quotes) “Streetlight people …” “Searchin’ in the night …”
Practice (today, not someday)
One real step toward the work that matters.
Encourage one person by name.
Re-anchor: Grounded • Rooted • Established • Settled.
Final Reflection Faith feels like this image: long exposure for the road ahead, quick exposure for the guiding light. The temple stands—reinforced at the foundation—and so do I.
Pocket I’m Keeping Between streetlights, keep moving.
What I Hear Now (direct quote) “Don’t stop believin’.”
Sun crowns the Angel Moroni and echoes in the red-car reflection—heaven above, witness below. Today I’m choosing to be “grounded, rooted, established, and settled.” Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s devotional was given 44 years ago today (Sept 15, 1981); I’ve listened to and reread it more than forty times since last night, and it still steadies me. Behind the shot (BTS) iPhone only. I walked the grounds, lining up angles until the sun sat directly behind Moroni. I waited for the clouds to thin, then chose the red car as my foreground to mirror the spire and add a second “sun.” Composing a photograph isn’t easy—it takes patience, timing, and a little inspiration.
Excerpt When life feels hot and hurried, deep roots matter. Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught us to become “grounded, rooted, established, and settled.” Today I’m practicing that—quietly, covenant by covenant—so the sun doesn’t scorch my faith.
Intro What a coincidence—September 15. On this date in 1981, Elder Neal A. Maxwell delivered a devotional that feels tailor-made for our moment. He urged a discipleship with depth, the kind that survives heat and headlines: grounded, rooted, established, and settled. He reminded us that God’s curriculum is deliberate—patience, meekness, love, self-discipline—and that routine isn’t pedestrian; it’s providential. Real growth happens “in process of time” and “according to the flesh”—ordinary days doing eternal work. If the world’s scaffolding falls away, what stands? Holy ground and holy habits. I want those roots.
Straight line • Deep roots > fast leaves (Colossians 2:6–7). • After we’ve “suffered a while,” grace “stablish[es], strengthen[s], settle[s]” (1 Peter 5:10). • The seed survives the sun when nourished “with great diligence, and with patience” (Alma 32). • Ordinary days are eternal classrooms; portable skills—meekness, charity, self-discipline—rise with us.
Notes from Elder Maxwell (Sep 15, 1981) • Growth without roots scorches. Disciples withstand heat because they are grounded—not trending. • Scaffolding and applause fall away; covenant habits remain. • God’s curriculum forms eternal, portable skills we’ll need forever. • Routine can be resplendent: quiet covenant keeping outlasts headlines. • Keep gospel perspective: our basic circumstances are strikingly similar—we are God’s children, accountable, loved, and capable of steady growth.
Perspective (directly from the devotional) “A hundred years from now, today’s seeming deprivations and tribulations will not matter then unless we let them matter too much now. A hundred years from now, today’s serious physical ailment will be but a fleeting memory.”
“A thousand years from now, those who now worry and are anguished because they are unmarried will, if they are faithful, have smiles of satisfaction on their faces in the midst of a vast convocation of their posterity. The seeming deprivation which occurs in the life of a single woman who feels she has no prospects of marriage and motherhood properly endured is but a delayed blessing, the readying of a reservoir into which a generous God will pour all that he hath. Indeed, it will be the Malachi measure: ‘there shall not be room enough to receive it’ (Malachi 3:10).”
Practice (today, not someday) • Choose one root to deepen: scripture before screens; prayer with listening; sacrament with intent. • Trade hurry for holy: slow the reply, soften the tone, serve someone nearby. • Write one “settled” choice: the commandment I will keep even when the sun is hot. • Plant a small habit that outlasts headlines: five minutes of gratitude, one quiet act of mercy, one bridge-building conversation.
Final reflection I can’t cool the world’s weather, but I can deepen my roots. If I will be grounded in Christ, the same sun that scorches shallow soil will ripen real fruit. Ordinary days, kept with covenants, become the very ground where God “stablishes, strengthens, and settles” the soul.
Pocket I’m keeping • Deep roots before bright leaves. • Perspective over panic. • Ordinary days are eternal classrooms. • Meekness travels well—now and forever.
What I hear now “Rooted and built up in him, and stablished in the faith” (Colossians 2:7). “After that ye have suffered a while… stablish, strengthen, settle you” (1 Peter 5:10). “Nourished by your faith with great diligence, and with patience” (Alma 32:41).
I waited for silence—no wind, no fountain—then the temple doubled in the pond. “The enmity of all flesh shall cease” (D&C 101:26). BTS:[x trips], [y minutes/hours] of watching the surface until the last ripple disappeared.
Intro News this week was hard to take. A familiar U2 refrain kept circling my mind—“How long?” When the world feels loud and unsteady, I go back to the Lord’s promises. In 1833, as Saints were driven from their homes in Missouri, the Savior described what His return will bring (see Doctrine and Covenants 101:23–34): we will see Him together; all things will become new; the enmity of all flesh will cease; Satan will lose his hold; sorrow will yield to life; and truth will be revealed in full. That is not wishful thinking—it’s a covenant future.
Straight line
Begin living heaven’s law now. When the Savior appeared in the Americas, He warned plainly: “He that hath the spirit of contention is not of me” (3 Nephi 11:29).
It really can happen. After His ministry, the record reports: “There was no contention among all the people” for many years (4 Nephi 1:13).
Zion prepares the way. Elder D. Todd Christofferson taught that the Lord will return to a people prepared to receive Him—Zion: “of one heart and one mind,” righteous, with “no poor among them” (April 2019, Preparing for the Lord’s Return).
Preparation looks practical. Lower our voices. Lift burdens. Trade hot takes for holy listening. Replace talking points with personal service.
Practice the peace you’re praying for. The future promise is sure; the daily choice is mine.
Final reflection I can’t rush His timetable, but I can reduce contention in my sphere. If I want a world where enmity ends, I can start with my words, my replies, my assumptions—and my willingness to build bridges where the world builds walls.
Pocket I’m keeping
Live heaven’s law now.
No contention—beginning with me.
Zion = one heart, one mind, no poor.
Practice peace: listen, serve, reconcile.
Hope is a covenant, not a mood.
What I hear now “The enmity of man, and the enmity of beasts … yea, the enmity of all flesh, shall cease” (D&C 101:26).
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.
