Unlike Jesus, I’m Going to Starve to Death
Dollar Cokes sing to me their siren song. Especially in 90-degree weather.
Coming home from a family errand, I pulled the old crossover (doesn’t have the same nostalgic ring as “the old station wagon,” does it?) into the McDonald’s drive thru for some instant refreshment.
For me, McDonald’s equals dollar Cokes. For my sons, it equals Happy Meals. But we weren’t getting Happy Meals this time.
Joseph complained that he was going to faint from hunger. It reminded me immediatley of the famous Stowell family tale of a generation earlier, when his uncle Matt left church during sacrament meeting because he was “feeling faint.” Joseph and Matt are alike in many ways.
Anyway, he wasn’t comforted by my indifference, so he broke out in tears.
“I’m going to die of starvation,” he sobbed.
“No you won’t,” I reassured him. “Did you know that Jesus went to the desert to pray and stayed there forty days without eating?”
“Yeah, because he had the priesthood, so he could give himself a blessing to make him feel full — so full he felt like he had a tummy ache.”
I supposed that might have been how it worked. One day, this story might end up as a faith promoting anecdote in a church talk.
Or it might be told at my son’s funeral if he dies from starvation.
