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.
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