Chicken Big Mac

Sometime last week, I read a headline in the Deseret News announcing that McDonald's would begin serving Big Macs with McChicken patties instead of the regular hamburger patties. Intrigued, I read on.

After the bait-and-switch, I found out that these Big Macs would be served only in foreign places like Indonesia. In the article, their sandwich looked like this:

At the local Mickey D's, I showed them the photo of this sandwich and asked them if they would make one for me here in Utah and in the United States. Because, 'Murica.

I was told that they were not allowed to make me such a dish but that they would gladly sell me both a Big Mac along with two McChicken patties and would let me make it on my own.

This was the result:

Grade: B+. I enjoyed the experience, but I would not really drop whatever I'm doing to eat this sandwich again. I like a spicy McChicken now and then but not on a Big Mac. In my book, it was more of a checked-it-off-the-Bucket-List experience.

Blessed to Give . . . and to Receive

I am not a homeless person, though I've played one at the request of an old friend.

Not long ago, one of the men who served as a high councilor over my YSA ward (and also a trusted friend) contacted me with an unusual request: Would I be willing to play a vagrant begging for money to help illustrate an important principle for the Young Men he shepherds in his present calling?

This was an unusual request. For one thing, admittedly, I am not a person you'd take a look at and say *ahem* "He's not getting enough to eat." Anyhow, I accepted and told him I would do my best. His idea was that I would dress as grubbily and as poorly as I could and that I would approach his class (they were having a lesson out of doors on this particularly cool autumn day) to ask for money or food, and this brother would then tell me to go jump in the lake without a life preserver.

It wasn't my best acting (that usually comes when I play dead bodies at improv shows, which actually happens frequently), though we executed our plan the following Sunday afternoon over, and I gave the role my best effort. After being turned away, I waited around the corner for several minutes, then I reappeared, my friend revealed my true identity, and the class discussed how they had felt or reacted when I showed up begging. My friend used the moment to teach the young men a lesson about giving and the whole "Are we not all beggars?" message of King Benjamin.

As for myself, I resolved then and there that the next time I found myself in a similar situation (being asked to give something to a destitute person), that I would help that person out and go the extra mile in doing so.

It didn't take long for an opportunity to present itself. I was getting some work done on my laptop at the local McDonald's because my home ISP (which rhymes with "Mentury Mink") had decided to go on vacation for the week. A young man came up to me to ask for something to eat. I told him that I didn't have any cash on me (which was true and is true the vast majority of the time), but that I'd be happy to buy him anything he wanted to eat with my debit card. He requested only three cheeseburgers to go, and after I paid the cashier and the order was ready, the young man thanked me and went on his way outside.

I share these experiences not to toot my own horn but instead to illustrate a point (in my usual roundabout way), and I feel that it's this: If we ask Heavenly Father for opportunities to serve, He will send people our way. We don't have to look very far (nor to be asked) to see that there are needy everywhere. We don't have to do something big to make a difference. Some of the needy are in want of a meal, like my friend at McDonald's, but others are lonely, or depressed, or ill, or their hands hang low for any number of other reasons. They are in our wards, in our neighborhoods, in line at the store, at our places of work, and even in our homes and/or families.

As I have observed friends and acquaintances share their experiences following the Church's "Light the World" campaign this month, I've witnessed many wonderful things happening. Again, these simple acts of service and the kinds words aren't grandiose, but they add up to mean a lot.

"Christmas means giving," taught President Gordon B. Hinckley. "The Father gave his Son, and the Son gave his life. Without giving there is no true Christmas."

If people don't receive that great gift, then there's no true Christmas, either. Receiving, I think, is just as important as giving. Both giving and receiving are part of a cycle that will continue to bless the giver and the receiver.

In my own, imperfect way, I've tried to give throughout this season of "Light the World." But I have also been blessed to receive a great deal from others who have been lighting the world, too. A little over a week ago, I came home feeling less than wonderful about myself, and I found that one of Santa's elves had left me a care package that included 12 gifts to be opened over the next 12 days, culminating on Christmas Day.

I hope the person who did this, whom I hope is reading this, knows what an enormously needed, timely, and appreciated gesture this has been for me. It alone has made Christmas for me this year. It has also inspired me to do the same for others as I go forward from the Christmas season that will be a thing of the past all-too soon. (Well . . . have a merry little Christmas now, as the song says.)

Who knows? I may even have chances to "Light the World" in January, or even in February. This thing could catch on. Giving and receiving are contagious.

God bless us every one, my friends. And speaking of receiving: Let Earth receive her King.

My Dinner with Jackson 2016

My brilliant, funny, creative, and energetic nephew Jackson turned eight years old recently and, as our tradition goes, we went out to eat dinner together for his birthday:

. . . after which we went to the store so he could pick out a present for himself.

Like yours truly, the kid likes the simple pleasures, like McDonald's and LEGO bricks.

Testifying with Lovin'

My mind can be much more like a sieve than a steel trap sometimes. Countless hours of "Simpsons" quotes, video games, "Weird Al" songs, and more all crammed in my noggin are probably to thank for it.

Nevertheless, I rarely, if ever, forget a face. I do not always remember names (though most of the time I do), but I almost always recognize faces, even when I haven't seen them for many years.

Last Sunday, it was Fast Sunday on the Island of Misfit Toys. That, of course, meant fast and testimony meeting. Rather unexpectedly, a familiar face stepped up to the podium to bear her testimony. It was one of the people I least expected to see there.

It had been more than 20 years since I last saw this person. Yes, folks, I am old enough to remember people from over two decades in my past. My knees frequently remind me of that fact. I'm not really the baby-faced young lad you might surmise to be 23 or 24.

At age 16, I started my first job (one that was not delivering newspapers or selling concessions at Utah Jazz games, anyway) working at (where else?) McDonald's in Centerville. That is how and when I first met this person. We did not get along all that well, from what I recall. I heard more than a few curse words escape from this person's mouth, and she also smoked.

Back to last week's testimony meeting: This same person stepped up to the pulpit, professing her belief in Christ and in the Atonement and stating that she knew she is a daughter of God. In the years since I had last seen her, her entire countenance had completely changed. With her testimony, she strengthened mine.

Like I said, it was the last person I expected to see. It's strange how people you never expect to see again, people who made cameos once upon a time, can suddenly reappear in your life. It's truly amazing what time can do and to witness the enormous capacity of people to change their lives. The gospel is a marvelous thing, isn't it?