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.
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.
“watching the river run” — Big Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. Long-exposure fall stream; motion becomes grace. Shot very low on a tripod with remote shutter. 4-second exposure at f/11, ISO 200 to smooth the water like silk while keeping the scene crisp.
Excerpt
The current is fast and the banks are close—but I can still choose calm. Today I’m learning that peacemaking starts inside me, then flows outward.
Intro
This stream looks like my week—swirl, speed, and color. I can’t control every bend, but I can decide the spirit I bring into each conversation.
Notes from Elder Gary E. Stevenson(Oct 4, 2025 Sat AM GC)
Peacemaking is a Christlike attribute that begins in hearts, then homes, then communities.
It requires courage and wise compromise without sacrificing principle.
Lead with open hearts, not closed minds; extended hands, not clenched fists.
Taught by Jesus Christ in scripture and reaffirmed by living prophets today.
Notes from Elder Kelly R. Johnson(Oct 4, 2025 Sat AM GC)
Seek validation vertically, not horizontally.
When others try to label us by weaknesses, stand strong in who we truly are—children of God.
Identity in Christ anchors peacemaking; it removes the need to win and invites us to love.
President Russell M. Nelson has taught that using labels can breed animosity, judging, and division; peacemakers look past labels to divine identity.
Perspective
Peace isn’t pretending tensions don’t exist. It’s choosing the Lord’s way—firm in truth, soft in tone, willing to listen, ready to reconcile. Knowing whose I am steadies who I am, so I don’t need to fight for labels or approval.
Practice (today, not someday)
Stop: rehearsing comebacks; seeking validation from reactions and “likes.” Start: pray before hard talks; state principles clearly, then ask sincere questions; offer one olive-branch action (thanks, brief apology, or specific help); write “I am a child of God” at the top of today’s notes.
Final reflection
Rivers carve rock not by force but by steadiness. Peacemaking works the same—courageous, principled, and patient because my identity is anchored in Him.
Pocket I’m keeping
Extended hands, not clenched fists—rooted in the quiet confidence of a child of God.
What I hear now
Be brave and gentle. Hold to truth. Let peace start in your heart and flow to your words.
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.
Pirates of the Caribbean, Disneyland — the dog with the keys. Captured from a moving boat, manual exposure, 24mm at f/2.8, high ISO, no flash allowed.
Intro
The pirates beg; the dog holds the keys. It’s funny—and it’s a mirror. The way out is often right in front of us, but we still have to earn it: patience, timing, and steady hands in the dark.
Excerpt
No flash, no tripod, no second chances—just a drifting boat, dim lantern light, and the moment you either catch or miss. I rode the attraction several times, dialed in manual settings, and waited for the boat to line up with the dog and the bars. The frame finally clicked when the scene, the motion, and my breathing all settled together.
Notes from the Devotional
“Righteousness has to become a matter of reflex.” — Elder Neal A. Maxwell When the light is low and everything moves, you don’t have time to analyze; you respond because you’ve practiced. That’s true for cameras and character.
Perspective
“Don’t be discouraged if, in your lifetime, you seem surrounded and outnumbered.” — Elder Maxwell Surrounded by bars? Sometimes the key is closer than it feels. Keep your eye on it—and keep reaching.
Practice (today, not someday)
“Obeying is one of the best ways of exploring.” — Elder Maxwell Honor the rules of the ride—no flash photography is allowed—then explore within those limits: open your aperture, raise ISO, steady your body, and work the timing on each pass.
Final Reflection
“Believe in yourself not only for what you now are but for what you have the power to become.” — Elder Maxwell Low light doesn’t mean no light. There’s enough light to grow if you learn how to see it.
Pocket I’m keeping
“Be very careful about what you let come inside your storehouse of memories.” — Elder Maxwell This frame reminds me to stock my mind with moments earned by patience and restraint, not shortcuts.
Behind the Shot
• location: Pirates of the Caribbean, Disneyland • camera: full-frame body, 24mm f/1.4G • settings: manual, f/2.8, high ISO, shutter fast enough to freeze boat bobble • constraints: moving boat, dim practicals, absolutely no flash allowed • approach: rode multiple times, pre-focused, timed shutter as boat paralleled the dog
Tips if you want this shot
flash is not allowed on this ride—respect the rules, the show, and other guests
use manual exposure; start around f/2.8, 1/125s, ISO 6400–12800 and adjust
stabilize with breath control and elbows tucked; shoot short bursts as the boat glides parallel
Sleeping Beauty Castle after closing, colors breathing against a quiet walkway. Handheld patience, not luck.
Story I didn’t grow up thinking “bucket list.” I just liked being with my family and carrying a camera. During my consulting years we were blessed with no-blockout annual passes to Disneyland and Disney California Adventure. I only share that to explain why we have so many pictures there—and so many good memories. The park was our long walk after a long week.
I wasn’t chasing rides. Most nights I was chasing light. My kids and my wife did their favorites, and I did mine: “it’s a small world” for the melody I can’t shake and “Soarin’” for the way it makes your heart feel bigger than your chest. Between those two, I was usually off finding a quiet corner to photograph, waiting for the crowd to thin the way a tide pulls back.
We spent more than a few Christmas Eves at the Disneyland Hotel and Christmas Day in the park—again, not to show off, just to be together somewhere that made us smile. In other seasons, when I worked with an aerospace team and later in perinatal healthcare, our groups sometimes held Christmas parties at Disneyland. I’d still slip away for a few minutes, because the castle looks different every night, and the fireworks give you one more excuse to try again.
A lot of those photos are still on old memory cards from three cameras. I know—process them already. But there’s something honest about leaving a few dreams unwrapped. The parks taught me that: you don’t need a louder life; you need a longer patience.
Walt said, “All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.” For me, courage looked like staying five minutes longer, carrying a tripod when my back complained, and coming back when the last shot failed. It’s a small practice, after all—but small things add up.
If you see Disney or temple photos here, that’s what they’re made of: family time, a stubborn camera strap, and the quiet belief that good light rewards people who are kind and who stay.
Monsoon rain, no guarantee, and a low chance of lightning. I framed Mokoliʻi between the bougainvillea, promised myself “ten more minutes,” and waited. The sky answered with a single crack of light. Most breakthroughs arrive between patience and presence. Keep going.
Intro
Hawaiʻi is famous for warm trade winds and sudden monsoon rain—but not for lightning. That’s why I stayed anyway. Between gray bands of rain, a single bolt cracked over Mokoliʻi, and the island lit up like a punctuation mark on the horizon. Some shots don’t happen until you’ve already decided to keep waiting.
Excerpt
“We cannot expect life to be a first-class experience unless we face some first-class challenges.” – Elder Neal A Maxwell
Approach: Pre-framed the island between bougainvillea and palms; stayed sheltered and watched the cloud build. Shot short bursts when thunder rolled; reviewed only after the storm passed.
Tip: On days when odds look low, decide ahead of time how long you’ll stay. The decision to wait removes the temptation to quit early.
Perspective
Lightning over Mokoliʻi is a reminder that rarity isn’t impossibility. Breakthroughs often arrive in the minutes after most people pack up. The skill isn’t just technical; it’s endurance plus attention—staying present long enough for grace to show.
Practice (today, not someday)
The “Ten More Minutes” rule: when you feel like leaving—stay ten more.
Pre-frame & wait: set one composition and guard it. Let the moment walk into your frame.
Write one sentence: “I’m still here because ______.” (Name your why.)
Final Reflection
Storms don’t always bring danger; sometimes they bring definition. Keep going. The bolt you’re waiting for may be one cloud away.
Pocket I’m Keeping
“Rarity is not a reason to quit—only a reason to stay.”
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).
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.
Called to serve.” Elder Mariano’s missionary tag resting on well-used scriptures—belief becoming deeds. 📖
Intro
I’ve been looping Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s “Called to Serve.” Two voices keep converging: King Benjamin’s charge, “If you believe all these things,see that ye do them” (Mosiah 4:10), and Elder Maxwell’s reminder that **deeds, not words—and becoming, not describing—**define discipleship. Mere assent without application is like hearing a lecture but skipping the lab. The audit is personal: Am I taking the field trip with the Savior, or just acing the lecture?
Final Reflection
“One mistake we can make… is to value knowledge apart from the other qualities to be developed in submissive discipleship… Being knowledgeable, by itself… is not enough… It’s like being briefed on a field trip but never taking the field trip.” And then the piercing question: “Are we steadily becoming what gospel doctrines are designed to help us become? Or are we… rich inheritors… but poor investors…?” —Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Called to Serve (BYU, Mar 27, 1994)
Elder Maxwell won’t let truth stop at the ears. Doctrine is meant to develop us—into merciful, meek, patient disciples. King Benjamin removes the wiggle room: if we believe, we do (Mosiah 4:10). Knowledge informs; obedience transforms. The treasure we’ve inherited only yields a return when we invest it in daily, quiet, consecrated doing.
Elder Maxwell says our “defining moments” rarely stand alone; they’re preceded by small, subtle preparatory moments and followed by many smaller moments shaped by them. His Okinawa story (age 18) shows how a single spared moment led to a lifetime pledge—and then came years of quiet confirmations: the Lord’s short, crisp promptings (often “more instructions than explanations”), the urgent nudge to “write the letter now,” and the painter’s metaphor—countless brushstrokes that outsiders may not value, but God is “in the details.” Put beside King Benjamin’s charge, the pattern is clear: belief ripens into decisive, timely doing. Knowledge informs; obedience transforms. Defining moments are built, one obedient brushstroke at a time.
What I hear now
My past can shape me, but it will not script me.
Charity tells the truth and sets kind boundaries.
Don’t just know the gospel—become it.
Belief proves itself by doing (Mosiah 4:10).
Trade admiration for application—put today’s light on today’s altar.
Measure growth by Christlike traits formed, not facts recalled.
Keep taking the “field trips” of faith—show up, serve, endure cheerfully.
The Taylorsville Utah Temple at dusk, framed by golden wheat and roses. A reminder that spiritual harvests come “line upon line, precept upon precept” — in His time, His way, His will.
There are weeks that pass quietly, and there are weeks that rearrange your spirit. In the span of just seven days, I’ve walked into the Taylorsville Temple three times. Each visit has been different, but together they’ve built something remarkable — a deepened layer of understanding, given to me line upon line, precept on precept.
I think of my journey from 1981 up to today as “college-level” preparation in spiritual learning. Now, here in Utah, the Lord has been giving me what feels more like a “doctorate-level” education: His time, His way, His will.
It’s like watching the stars appear at night. First one little light shines over there in the western sky, and then another, and then another — until finally, look for yourself…
A whole wonderful endless universe began with one little star.
Line upon line, precept on precept. That is how He lifts us, that is how He teaches His children. Line upon line, precept on precept. Like a summer shower giving us each hour His wisdom. If we are patient we shall see How the pieces fit together in harmony. We’ll know who we are in this big universe And then we’ll live with Him forever.
But until it happens…
Line upon line, precept on precept. That is how He lifts us, that is how He teaches His children. Line upon line, precept on precept. Like a summer shower giving us each hour His wisdom.
(From Saturday’s Warrior, 1973 — Words by Doug Stewart, Music by Lex de Azevedo)
Final Reflection
Tonight in the Celestial Room, I prayed not to impose my will but to listen. What I felt wasn’t a grand vision but a gentle whisper — a reminder that revelation unfolds step by step, not all at once.
Life keeps unfolding in ways I don’t always anticipate. Some lines remain unanswered, others open unexpectedly, but together they form a pattern that teaches me to trust the timing.
Line upon line, I see how the Lord has been shaping my path. What once felt scattered now begins to come together in harmony — not all finished, but moving toward His perfect design.
Taylorsville Utah Temple at first light—quiet watch at dawn, one frame when the grounds glowed.
Excerpt “Beyond the frail, scant promises of time.”
Intro Second sunrise in a row at Taylorsville. Waiting in the quiet before the grounds woke, I felt the same steady whisper—and remembered a Seminary song I grew up with.
Notes from the song Patience over haste. Choose carefully. Build real friendships. Seek what lasts beyond quick feelings and trends.
Perspective (direct quote) “True happiness is something I must earn.”
Practice (today, not someday)
Slow one thing down.
Invest in one real friendship.
Re-anchor: Grounded • Rooted • Established • Settled.
Final Reflection Sunrise teaches covenant pace: night yields to light; hurry to peace. What matters most isn’t in time’s quick promises, but in what endures beyond them.
Pocket I’m Keeping Choose the lasting over the loud.
What I Hear Now (paraphrase) Love carefully chosen and patiently sealed outlives the clock.
