Jet Mariano

Tag: service

  • “What Have I Done for Someone Today?”

    Captured outside the Mount Timpanogos Temple during peak fall—standing in stillness after a long day, I waited for the sky to open and remind me that light always returns.

    Excerpt

    Autumn reminds me that service is like the seasons—quiet, constant renewal. Even when we’re tired or uncertain, giving of ourselves brings color back to the soul.

    Intro

    This week felt like an uphill climb. Long nights, long thoughts. I could barely rest, yet something inside me refused to quit. I realized once again that when you love what you do—when your work serves a purpose beyond yourself—fatigue fades behind fulfillment.

    Years ago, in another IT assignment, I worked through the night restoring a critical system. No one saw the hours or the quiet prayers between reboots, but the satisfaction came from knowing others could keep working because I did not stop. That same quiet joy has followed me ever since. It’s the joy of standing up, of helping, of serving—whether the task is big or small.

    Notes from President Monson

    “Unless we lose ourselves in service to others, there is little purpose to our own lives.”

    “Man’s greatest happiness comes from losing himself for the good of others.”

    “At baptism we covenanted to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light.”

    “How many times has your heart been touched as you have witnessed the need of another? How often have you intended to be the one to help—and yet life’s busyness interfered?”

    Perspective

    President Monson’s words reached deep this week. I saw how easy it is to get lost in endless to-dos, alerts, and deadlines—the “thick of thin things.” Service, however, brings focus. When I choose to help, I find peace. When I act, I feel alive again. The Savior’s example is the ultimate model of losing oneself in love and lifting others quietly, consistently, and completely.

    Practice

    Today, not someday, I can serve—by listening more, forgiving faster, and stepping forward even when tired. True discipleship isn’t about grand gestures; it’s in the small, unseen moments where compassion overrides convenience.

    Final Reflection

    Each time I walk past the temple, I’m reminded: service sanctifies. The light that falls upon its walls is the same light that can fill our hearts when we give of ourselves freely. The world doesn’t need our perfection—it needs our presence.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    When I help someone quietly, heaven notices loudly.

    What I Hear Now

    “We become so caught up in the busyness of our lives… too often we spend most of our time taking care of the things which do not really matter much at all in the grand scheme of things.”

    Link to the Talk

    What Have I Done for Someone Today — President Thomas S. Monson (October 2009 General Conference)

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

  • 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.

  • Marked in Time Sep 10, 2025 — Finding Joy in the Journey

    San Diego California Temple — made on an early iPhone. Daylight reminds me it’s less about the lens and more about the eye and the feeling. This house is family to me—my firstborn was sealed here on 12/12/12 at 12:00 PM.

    Excerpt
    President Thomas S. Monson teaches that joy is not in the distant future but in the daily moments we cherish with gratitude and love.

    Intro
    Life changes—sometimes suddenly, often gradually. President Thomas S. Monson reminds us that we cannot pile up tomorrows and expect joy to wait. Joy is in the journey now—in gratitude, in kindness, in cherishing those around us before it is too late.

    Straight line (what he’s saying)
    • Change is constant; the key is learning what matters most.
    • Childhood, family time, and simple daily joys vanish if we postpone them.
    • Don’t wait for tomorrows that never come; love must be shown today.
    • Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved.
    • Gratitude transforms lack into abundance; ingratitude blinds us to God’s gifts.
    • Challenges will come, but we choose whether to cherish or neglect the people we love.
    • Christ’s example—serving, forgiving, and loving to the end—shows us how to live joyfully.

    Final reflection
    Time never stands still. My regrets are not about things I did, but things I left undone—words unsaid, kindness unshown. President Monson’s reminder echoes: joy is not about someday; it is about today.

    Pocket I’m keeping
    • Hug my family more, speak my love more.
    • Write the note, send the message, make the call—today.
    • Guard against letting stress eclipse people.
    • Give thanks deliberately, even for the small, ordinary blessings.
    • Joy = gratitude in motion.

    What I hear now
    Joy is a daily decision, not a future destination. If I train my heart to see God’s gifts in every moment, life itself becomes the journey worth rejoicing in.

    Link to the talk
    “Finding Joy in the Journey – President Thomas S. Monson

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

  • That’s You and That’s Me

    Two open hands—one giving, one receiving. Some needs are plain to see; others we carry quietly. That’s you and that’s me.

    Intro
    Some needs are easy to spot—a hand outstretched at a corner, a face weeping in public. Others ride quietly under the surface: worry that doesn’t show, loneliness with a practiced smile, a “load” carried where no one can see. This week I kept thinking about both kinds—the visible and the hidden—and how the Lord is the One who sees them all. The photo below is the obvious kind. But I’m learning to look for the quiet kind too, including in my own life. “No one makes it all alone… we all rely on help from Home.”

    That’s You and That’s Me — Seminary album Free to Choose (1987)

    Some reach out with their hands,
    Some reach out with their eyes,
    And most try hard not to let it show,
    But it’s a thin disguise.

    Some needs can be hidden;
    Some are plain to see.
    No one makes it all alone—
    We all rely on help from Home
    To get us back to where we want to be.

    And that’s you and that’s me,
    Living off His goodness
    And learning how to be.

    And that’s you and that’s me;
    I want to be ever you—like He’s ever you and me.

    Sometimes I can’t hide it;
    Sometimes I just want to cry:
    “I need someone to share my load,”
    When no one’s on my side.

    That’s when I remember:
    You have days like these.
    No one makes it alone—
    We all rely on help from Home
    To get us back to where we want to be.

    And that’s you and that’s me,
    Living off His goodness
    And learning how to be.
    That’s you and that’s me—
    I want to be ever you, like He’s ever you and me;
    And He gives so freely and shows us how to care.

    And that’s you and that’s me,
    Living off His goodness
    And learning how to be.

    Final reflection
    The song names what discipleship looks like in real time: noticing. Some needs are loud; some are quiet. Christ meets both, and He invites us to do the same—“living of His goodness and learning how to be.” Sometimes that means coins in a palm. Sometimes it’s a steady text, a prayer in someone’s name, a ride, a listening ear, or a temple visit offered for a friend. And when the load is ours, we remember we also “rely on help from Home.” Seen or unseen, He sees—and He sends us to see.

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

  • Because I Have Been Given Much, I Too Must Give

    Because I Have Been Given Much, I Too Must Give

    Jordan 4s laced, knee braces locked, and 20s in hand—another stair session. I train to stay ready, not just fit.

    I train to stay rooted in purpose, faithful in service, and prepared for life’s demands.
    Fitness clears my mind and sharpens my focus.
    The goal isn’t just strength—it’s being able to make a difference.

    That’s why I wear McDavid knee braces, elbow support, and back support. My workouts are non-stop—compound, high-rep, and uninterrupted. You have to train smart. No shortcuts. No injuries.

    Tonight’s training flow?

    • 30-minute stair run (1st floor to basement, non-stop)
    • 120 reps each of:
      • Pushups
      • Sit-ups
      • Leg raises
      • Abs crunches
    • Bird/Dog exercise for balance and core control
    • Crab-walks to engage hip and glute strength
    • 20-minute plank rotation
    • All while my laundry spins in the background
    • Tilapia fillets thawed and ready for a clean dinner
    • Playlist? Pure Church music, filling the air with purpose

    This is a multi-tasked project of body, spirit, and home.

    During sacrament, the hymn “Because I Have Been Given Much” played softly—but its message roared inside me.

    It asked me:
    What are you giving in return?

    I reflected:

    👉🏼 I give my focus to study—choosing AZ-104 over passive scrolling
    👉🏼 I give my energy to fitness—choosing movement over comfort
    👉🏼 I give my rest to quality sleep—choosing recovery over distraction
    👉🏼 I give my time to the Lord—choosing temple service over idle time
    👉🏼 I give my work my best—choosing to document, secure, and improve

    This isn’t boasting. This is realignment.
    When you’ve been preserved, protected, and placed where you are for a purpose—
    you can’t just sit still.

    You move.
    You give.
    You train.
    You serve.
    Because you’ve been given much.

    And what you give in return becomes your praise.

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

error: Content is protected !!