The Rio Coco Adventure Part III--Sheila

Yep--here it comes. I'm going to say it again: I learned so much.
When we got back to Jinotega, everyone kept asking me how the river was. And my answer once again had to be that I had learned a lot. The surprising part is that what I learn is never what I set out to find.

I learned from Carl.

 Carl is 84 years old--and he doesn't just smile for the camera. I was honored to work with Carl in the vision clinic all week, and never saw that smile fade for a second. One of the most remarkable things about him is that everyone wants to talk to him. People waited in line to talk through 2 translators, just to be heard by him. Because when Carl is listening to you--you feel listened to. Carl slept on the same thin pallets we did, ate the same beans and rice each day, walked through the same stinky mud pits--and never stopped smiling. Was my tail sore from the bumpy ride? sure. Was the cabin floor hard and ant infested? yep. Was the wash barrel cold and vaguely smelly? yeah. But if Carl isn't complaining--none of us better complain!
Carl taught me something beautiful about Phillipians 2:14 ¹⁴ Do everything without grumbling or arguing, ¹⁵ so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.”^[c] Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky  Now, I certainly thought I knew this verse, as it was quoted in my general direction most of my middle-school years. But I had always focused on the "without grumbling" part. And Carl was certainly a stellar example of that. (get it? stellar..."shining among them like stars...") But the part that Carl taught me most was the "Do everything.." part of this verse. Sometimes I get so focused on not whining, that I forget to get up and do something. Not Carl. He's a mission-tripping machine! He's been to Nicaragua twice in 3 months, and plenty of other spots as well. When his group was voting whether to go zip-lining or straight to the hotel, Carl not only was first to vote for adventure, he asked for a chance to convince anyone who was on the fence about going. I want to be that kind of person--who not only avoids complaining, but the person who is ready to "do everything". Carl is. I learned that I want to be like that.


I learned from these kids. 

Can you see the raw joy in these photos? These kids were having such a great time. I learned that if you want to have fun, that's all you need. No plan, no toys, no rules--just start laughing and others will join in. I learned that some stranger drawing goofy faces on hands, or some guy who makes silly voices can be just as exciting as a carnival. I learned that these kids know something about friendship that I can only guess at.


I learned from this town.

There was something in the air in San Andres that I just can't articulate. The closest thing I can relate it to is that particular feel of a park at dusk, the quad of a college campus, the meeting hall at a summer camp. It's that feeling that is associated with shared space. With knowing everyone and knowing your spot. There is a camaraderie among the neighbors at San Andres--an intimacy--a sense of real community that I just can't quite put into words. Are there differences? Problems? Fights? Of course! But there is a depth of knowing each other that I don't believe can be found in a street full of houses with doors that shut and windows that close. 

I heard over and over while on this trip, "I guess they don't miss what they've never known." Most of the speakers were talking about the level of poverty we were seeing. And I in no way mean to minimize or romanticise the difficulty and suffering of deep poverty. This life is hard. Hard. But I also think "we" (rich North Americans) don't have any idea what we're missing. 

I hear so many people talk about how they believe nothing is more important than time with family, how they just want their kids to be happy, to know who they are and where they belong. But what if you lived in a house with all of your family? What if your kids really spent their time following you learning how you live? What if everybody wasn't in their own room looking at their own screen? What if kids were excited to get to go to school--regardless of how uncomfortable or difficult it was? What if  when the sun began to go down the whole neighborhood stood around talking while the kids ran and giggled together. 

I'm sure it is true--people don't miss what they've never known. And there is much I have that I am more grateful for than ever. But I also think I have more to learn from places like San Andres than just "how good we've got it."

The Rio Coco Adventure - Part III--Jonathan

The final two days of our river adventure ended as they had begun, but with different types of adventure.

Day 6 (Thursday) - Back in San Andres

     The final day of clinic work brought visitors from across the river in nearby Honduras. We had heard that the Honduras side of the river was more well off, and everything we saw from the boat and the visitors seemed to bear this out. You could tell because everyone of them had shoes, they had combed and brushed hair, and were wearing their "Sunday best."

Sunday Best...and shoes, too!

     On this morning I found the odd sounds of a drum line pounding out a cadence in the distance. It sounded every bit like a large Central Texas corps providing background beats for the drill team and horns setting out for Main St. My curiosity got the best of me and I headed out to fulfill my duties as staff photographer and snap some photos of the band. The younger children were in school, and I assumed the older children were in the field at morning practice preparing for whatever event was next for them. I walked across the soccer field and around the next bend of houses as the volume grew. I knew I was getting closer but I could not find them anywhere. Finally, I decided the sound was coming from a barn, I walked to the window and was surprised by five boys, aged about 9 to 11 years, beating on a variety of plastic jugs and other homemade percussion instruments. The sound replicated the finest drum brigade and the boys beamed with pride as they performed for their audience of one.

"I'll play my drum for you parumpumpum..."

     School was back in session and as we began our clinic work I noticed what appeared to be children moving desks from one building to another. We had celebrated the most recent Independence Day in Nicaragua (they observe 4 for various reasons) so it would not have been a surprise for furniture to be rearranged for such an event. At the invitation of the school principal I went to see how class was progressing. Much to my surprise a shortage of desks had children hauling their desks to school each day and back home after the session ended. What an uproar this would cause in the good ol' US of A!

     The number of animals that roamed everywhere, including in and out of buildings, was astonishing. In Jinotega an occasional church dog will visit during worship but leaves when he finds the sermon long or objectionable. I guess I thought that some animals were natural enemies like dogs and chickens. In this setting, however, all the animals got along with all the other animals. It was very ark-like, I'm sure. I guess my animal husbandry education was skewed since most of what I learned about animals was from Saturday morning cartoons about a wolf and a sheep that punched a clock, or my useless weenie dogs that shared an affinity for frogs, lizards and baby birds,  However, the fear-induced excitement of watching two stallions kick box and a nine-year-old boy lasso one of them to break it up was pretty high excitement for me on my last day in San Andres.

     Since it was our final evening on the river I decided to take a stroll from one end of the community to the other. As I wandered I saw the sun preparing to set, the river sounds starting to take grip, a peace encompass the village and the outline of some of the buildings starting to darken against the sky. It was a setting I have branded into my memory.

     As the sun went down (and as you might expect), Sheila and I found a pack of children with whom we could play. Having packed not nearly enough stickers we soon invented a game by which the children could win the stickers by being the first to touch various things around the center of town - a boat, a tree, a coconut shell, an ill-prepared Nicaraguan or a passing pig or dog (neither of which wanted to be touched.) It was great fun!

     By the end of the day our 1/4-inch sleeping mat was becoming more welcoming as the exhaustion of the adventure began to take its toll. I quickly took my dip-the-river-water-out-of-a-55-gallon-drum shower and collapsed on my mat.

Day 7 (Friday) - Travelling back to Jinotega

     We were told that this would be the most grueling day of the trip, and possibly our lives. We were warned of a 12 hour boat ride upstream back to the community of Wiwili, followed by a four-hour ride by bus to the city of Jinotega. All of this began with a 4 am wake-up call. I'm not sure how it happened but the boat ride was only nine hours and God provided rain-less cloud cover for much of the trip. It was beautiful. In a little less than an hour, we off-loaded the boats and reloaded the bus and were on the final leg of the adventure. It was good. Some 50 travelers, including about 11 Gringos completed the journey no worse for wear. During the four days there were 1,520 medical contacts among the dentists, doctors and vision screeners. The four-day Bible Institute hosted 17 students. There were 10 people who took on a new life through baptism. People were helped in the name of God. Jesus was shown to a desperate people and I had a wonderful experience.

Final Question: Will I consider doing this again?

Yes. One week form today I will be back on the river for an adventure of a different type. May God have mercy on my soul.

Isuhvey

The Rio Coco Adventure Part II--Sheila

Yes, mom, Jonathan left me in the jungle.
I stayed in San Andres with the primary medical team while part of the group went to some nearby (an hour or so by boat) villages. Since this reduced our number of translators, I got to put my translation skills to the test in the vision clinic without the safety net of a bilingual person to help out when I got in a pinch. We mainly got by. Not that my Spanish is so advanced, but so many of our clients spoke only Miskito and were quite accustomed to working around language barriers. My handy cardboard box with phrases scribbled on helped us get through the day. Of course, all the Miskito words I got I learned through Spanish--so it took me like half a day to think my way through a sentence...
"better or worse?" "mejor o peor?" "pain-pain ar soura?"
"Try these on" "Pruebe estas lentes" "Mangkaia kaikaia" (which I think is literally "put-face-see")

"Jefe" Harvy and my favorite sodier

I would never have made it without the help of "my soldier". This 19 year old kid has been picking up Miskito while stationed in the Rio Coco region, and was such a sweet guy. He sat by me on the boat ride in, and our shared cracker lunch turned out to be an investment with rich return. He was hungry for attention from Carl, and by translating their conversation, I got to know quite a bit about him. One thing for sure, he was the most patient of his group. Not only was he patient with my rotten Spanish/Miskito, he was the least grouchy about the lateness of their paycheck. You see, the soldiers who traveled with us, and the entire army outpost in San Ramon were expecting a helicopter to arrive with their weekly pay and food rations and it was late. *remember this fact for later*

The clinic was busy and full of excitement. That's the thing about a trip like this--you never know what will come through the line, or what you may be called upon to do. When nurse Lana asked, "Can you hold the flashlight for this surgery? Do you get queasy?" all I could think was, "Beats me. I guess we'll find out." I'm sure Michael the machinist couldn't imagine what it would be like to assist in surgical extractions of teeth. I doubt nursing student Aura was expecting to help deliver a baby girl. I know pharmacist Robyn wasn't really expecting that we'd need those anti-seizure meds. Saying "expect the unexpected" is very different from experiencing it.

Michael helps Dr. Chuck  

Nurse Lana and our youngest patient

That was before Tomas arrived.

At first all we knew was that he had sustained an injury to his arm somewhere on the river, and had been making his way toward us. With absolutely zero medical knowledge it was clear to me this guy was in trouble. One look at Dr. Barry's face and I realized he must be in worse shape than I thought. The medical providers worked all day just trying to stabilize his vital signs. They arranged for shifts of people to stay with him through the night--and it wasn't until nearly 10 hours later that they actually turned their attention to his wound. He had a severe compound fracture, and after they cleaned and re-bandaged it discussions turned to how to transport Tomas out to a hospital. I assumed that things were fine. Tomas was now able to sit up and drink water, he could speak, he was even able to test out some reading glasses to use the bible the preachers had brought when they came to pray with him.  Tomas was not really fine. I wouldn't understand how serious his condition was until later.

Malena and Harvy had been working on a plan to get Tomas on a boat at least as far as Wiwili--a trip of perhaps 12 hours against the current, where he would then still need to find a bus another 4 or 5 hours to Jinotega before beginning his wait at the hospital. As with many negotiations in Nicaragua, it wasn't as straightforward and simple as just buying a ticket. As they worked on the logistics of this trip, someone said; "What about the helicopter?"
Remember? The army supply helicopter that was supposed to come the day before, but had been delayed? Delayed by mechanical problems. Delayed until Tomas could make it to San Andres. Delayed until he was stable enough to travel. Delayed to get Tomas to the hospital that very day.

As the helicopter lifted over the house tops, I put my arm around a teary-eyed Dr. Barry and smiled. His voice cracked as he said, "He's going to live. He made it out. He's going to live. God knew just what we needed."

Truly. God provides.

The Rio Coco Adventure - Part II-Jonathan

Day 4 (Tuesday) & 5 (Wednesday) - Taking Medicine to La Esperanza and Pankawas

Day 4 (Tuesday) - La Esparanza

Welcome to "The Hope."

     Day 4 and 5 part of our team "went mobile" which gave me a chance to visit two smaller, nearby communities. Are you able to visualize a group of people who have basically been shunned by their government as the indigenous Miskito on the Rio Coco have, or can you imagine what it is to be at the bottom of list for services? These are humble, hard-working people who are more than just physically segregated by virtue of their native location, but also segregated by class as they are rarely  considered for services along the Rio Coco.
     Day 4 I visited the community of La Esperanza. La Esperanza is Spanish for "The Hope." Oddly enough, there was a buzz in the community and a feel of hope as the arrival of Gringo doctors meant much needed medical attention. Visits to places like "The Hope" remind me many things, two in particular: 1) Poverty is relative, and; 2) You don't miss what you have never had.
     "The Hope" is a seemingly less well-to-do (or more impoverished) than the poor people in San Andres. Few of the women and none of the children wear shoes. The men wear mud boots all the time.
     I saw probably the worst two cases of cleft lip and palette I have ever seen. Fortunately, I seemed to be the only one aware of it. These two children, probably aged two and seven, played with the other children with no obvious stigma attached.

Cleft lip and palette - less severe of two cases

     One of the exciting parts of the day in "The Hope" was the coconut gift. Several of the children had been showing off various skills from cartwheels to whistling to climbing coconut trees to, of course, posing for the camera. At one point in the day, a boy of about 12 grabbed a rope, wrapped it loosely around his ankle and began to shimmy up a coconut tree. Upon arriving near the top he kicked off the rope and began climbing around where the palms hid him. Coconuts began to rain form the treetop. After about 20 coconuts came to earth he slid down the tree in a way that some with my particular build would be prohibited, based on the fact that my mid-section would serve as brake and leave me stranded.
     Several of the boys gathered and bagged the coconuts. We took one, watched a 10-year old wielding a machete breakdown the nut, then handing it to me so I could drink the water. It was okay, but not my favorite. I am told it has great health value for the stomach, intestines and kidneys. The real treat was the soft coconut flesh inside. If you have only had the bagged stuff you are missing one of the great culinary experiences of life. I think even my coconut-hating brother-in-law would have enjoyed this snack. I shared half of the inside with the children who helped harvest and returned to Jinotega with the rest. I want to open them and share them but have yet to make time for machete lessons. Coconuts are the perfect gift - healthy, tasty, unique and pre-wrapped.

English: I want a coconut         Miskito: Coocoo whan smaa kee

 Day 5 (Wednesday) - Pankawas
     Day 5 took me to the community of Pankawas (PAHN kuh was). Pankawas is the smallest of the three communities slated for this trip and the people there seem to have less than either of the other two. It would seem that community size and poverty go hand in hand.
     It was here that I realized even fewer people wore shoes and that almost every child I saw, as well as many of the adults, suffered from abdominal distention, common among people where parasites are rampant. Whether it is form the lack of purified water they drink (we always hauled water that was purified for our own use), or from contaminated food or parasites that enter the skin via the paths they share with the livestock the number of infected is amazing. No matter the reason for treatment, everyone was given a dose of the anti-parasite treatment Albendazole.

This is a photo of a man carving up a coconut in Pankawas. Notice shirtless children and their distended stomachs.

     Our clinic in Pankawas was set up in the church building. The church building is roughly 30' X 30' and entrance was a ladder everyone had to climb to enter. All the building we saw on the river, including this one, are constructed on stilts. The floor of the building in Pankawas has not yet been completed. there are two 8' x 8' sections that lack the flooring leaving exposed the cross members and below that the dirt floor about 2.5 feet below. This made for several rows of excellent viewing for the children to watch as people were siphoned in and out to the stations to see the eyeglasses fitter, the doctor, the dentist or the pharmacist. A good time was had by all.

Shoeless feet from kids in the makeshift gallery.

Faces to match the shoeless observers from the photo above

     At this location we also met a young mother with a 3-year old girl. The child suffers from mental retardation. She is also visually handicapped and has no function from her legs and little from her arms.  Her mother asked if the mission could provide a wheel chair, but those, especially one that would be functional in such a wet muddy, climate are expensive and almost non-existent here. But God provides. Upon my return to Jinotega I began asking around for a stroller that was no longer needed thinking that it might have wider tires and be more adaptable to the trails in Pankawas. What I found, through a network of Nicaraguans that only they understand, was a used orthopedic wheel chair that is child sized. God provides and the chair will be sent on the river on the next trip to Pankawas.

God provides

     Another new experience here is one similar to one I had in Mexico. The children, regardless of language barriers want to talk to you. The challenge was that the few words of Miskito I know did not come into play here and if any child ever said them to me I never understood it. At one point two girls were including me in their conversation. I began to answer them in a made up language that included some syllables I heard in common Miskito phrases. They thought this was hilarious and we continued our conversation. They would say something in Miskito, I would answer in Jonathan-skito, and they would again reply, this time mimicking what I had just made up. This continued for about 20 minutes. As I left Pankawas, they stood at the top of the hill waving and yelling out to me in the gibberish I had made up.

Isuhvey

Next Up...Day 6 & 7 Another Day in San Andres and a Really Long Boat Ride
     

The Rio Coco Adventure--Part 1--Sheila

One day back from the states, and I'm packing our bags to go on "the river trip". My excitement was beginning to be tinged with apprehension as each person who'd been before responded "You're going? Really? Are you ready?" As we loaded the canoes in the growing dawn I couldn't help but wonder if I was ready...

You know how, when you go somewhere big--the ocean, a mountain, the pictures just can't convey that sense of...presence? That was the day on the canoe for me. My eyes were completely filled with the bigness, the remoteness, the silence of the place. Was I ready for this trip? for this place? Certainly not. My imagination couldn't prepare me for naked kids bouncing a hello from the banks, or old men poling rafts diligently against the current. I never imagined dozing off to be startled awake by howler monkeys screaming from an overhead branch. I couldn't have visualized the sun rising behind palm thatched huts surrounded by bananas and coconuts. It was a day of, "Is this real?" These post card, national geographic scenes sliding by are not romantic tourist shots. This, all of this, is someone's real life.

In the village of San Andres de Bocay, I felt much the same. On day one, as we were checking out the bathing shed they'd prepared for us, the kitchen our crew had taken over, the path to the creek that provides water--I kept being struck with the thought that all of this "adventure" is someone's normal routine. Most surprising to me was how soon it all felt routine to me as well. Perhaps it's the way time compacts when you're on a trip with people, or at summer camp...by the second night I was confidently arranging my mosquito nets, expertly shooing bats from the latrine, and feeling comforted by the familiarity of the view of stars through the slats in the wall of our stilted cabin.

The Rio Coco Adventure - Part 1-Jonathan

     The Rio Coco is a river that serves as a border between Honduras and Nicaragua and empties into the Caribbean Sea. The indigenous people who live there are called the Miskito and they speak their own dialect. Their dialect is not in any way associated with English or Spanish, so communication there is limited to those we can find who speak Spanish in addition to Miskito. The trip was beautiful, challenging and enlightening. It was, to say the least a grand adventure.

Day One (Saturday) and Two (Sunday): Travel Days
     After a four hour bus ride to the town of Wiwili (WEE-wuh-lee) from Jinotega, we found ourselves settling into our accommodations for the night. A quaint little hotel provided us with a double bed and TV. Additionally, a combo sink/shower/toilet area allowed for the ease of shaving, washing your hair and answering the call of nature without taking all those extra steps.
     Sunday morning we awoke early to drive a few blocks to board the dug-outs on which we would spend the next six hours making our way northeast to the community of San Andres. The cool, crisp air was multiplied by the humidity and wind produced by our 40 horse-power Yamaha in our 3 feet wide by 30 feet long boat. It was refreshing and welcome after the hot, humid night in the hotel.

Early morning river ride - Welcome to the Rio Coco

      The scenery included grand mountain vistas, homes cut from coconut trees and thatched with palm leaves, and people going about the business of the day such as washing clothes, panning for gold, waving at the passing convoy of Gringos or bathing and playing in the river. My excitement was similar to that of waiting in line for a roller coaster - not sure what to expect, only knowing that an adventure was ahead of me, that I was a bit pensive about it all, but that everything would be okay. 

Boat watching - Sunday pass time along the Rio Coco

When the bough breaks...

     Day Two of travel ended up with our troops for this medical brigade spending the balance of the day setting up the clinic for dental, general medical, pharmacy, eye glasses and Bible study. It was uneventful and ended with us all reporting to an odd structure not unlike many of the homes in the area. The 11 gringos on the trip shared a four room, no bath, no garage, house on stilts that was conveniently located in walking distance to not one, but two latrines and a three sided shack with a 55-gallon drum of river water for bathing.

     Once we all got our mattresses situated (1/2 inch of luxury foam) or hammocks up and mosquito nets hung, we retired for our first night on the river. Bedtime was closely timed to the end of the day's energy produced by the roof-top solar panels. They went night-night, we went night-night.

     Suddenly there was a crash. Startled, sleepy-eyed Americanos struggled for flashlights to see what ill-fated accident claimed it's first American casualty. That casualty was me. The fabric of my hammock, a piece of equipment rated to hold 400 pounds (which is almost double my current weight) failed, sending me hurling to the ground from a height of well over 2.5 feet. Sheila narrowly escaped with her life as she lay just feet away from ground zero. Surely the impact she would have absorbed would have been similar to a Russian center fielder trying to field Sputnik as it returned to earth in Siberia. I survived the incident with only a large red spot on my left buttock and a similarly red color on my facial cheeks.

Day 3 (Monday): The Medical Brigade begins

     Olive Branch Ministries spends a great deal of time in Nicaragua providing medical care to communities both on and off the Rio Coco. The group representing Olive Branch for this excursion included Malena, the fearless leader; Carl, an 83-year-old retired health-care worker with a knack for fitting glasses; Gene, who worked fitting glasses with Carl and Gene's son-in-law, Michael, who worked scrubbing dental equipment for Chuck, a dentist. Also, Barry the MD, Lana a nurse with river work experience, and Robyn, the pharmacist. Additional non-Nicaraguans included my wife, Sheila, who went to interpret, Wilson, who went to provide added muscle, and yours truly who went to take pictures and provide slapstick comedy by falling through hammocks, etc.

Dr. Chuck says, "Say Ahhhh." 

     We also took about a dozen Misión Para Cristo employees who went to cook, lift, direct, register, interpret, plus our own mission nurse, dentists and dental assistants. Add to that number about 15 more auxiliary personnel such as Miskito interpreters, boat operators and the like and you get a picture of how labor-intensive this program can become. Part of the beauty of this team work was to see a medical provider speak English to a Spanish/English translator, who would then speak to a Spanish/Miskito translator, who would then speak in Miskito to the patient. The process would then reverse with the information. It was a beautiful thing. One young man who volunteered to stay and help translate Miskito for us came by way of bringing his great-grandfather to us. It isn't everyday you get to meet a man who has celebrated 110 years. New Rule: Anyone over the age of 109 gets a free pass to the front of the line.

Meet 110 year-old Julian (middle of photo.)

      The biggest excitement of the day was watching Dr. Barry, with the assistance of Nurse Lana operate on a young man to remove a large cyst that had developed in his chest. I will spare you the gory photos. Isuhvey (Miskito for Goodbye") for now...

Goodnight          Adios          Isuhvey

Next Up...Day 4 (Tuesday): Taking the medicine to La Esperanza 

The Perfect Gift

One of the things I try to copy from Jonathan is his panache for gift giving. He's so good at thinking of who most needs a gift--and is gifted at finding just the right gift. Our suitcases leaving and returning to Nicaragua have been full of gifts for people on both ends of the trip. As we were packing to leave Nicaragua he stopped me to ask, "Did you mean to put these in?" as he held up a sack of beans and a container of dish soap. Lots of people might not have recognized these perfect gifts.

The beans were for my Dad. He is a farmer at heart, and has found a way to grow food in almost every place we've been--even in the middle of a large city in Canada. He loves pouring through seed catalogs and experimenting with planting and eating unfamiliar varieties of  vegetables. This summer, to the surprise of his squash delivery route, he decided not to plant a garden. But the garden sought him out. You can see his love of gardening in the coddling of these "volunteer" vines.

So, while you might not think a sack of typical Nicaraguan red beans is a nice gift, I think my Dad did. We enjoyed a few for supper, and there's a whole sack left if he chooses to plant some up for himself.

For my mom, it was a container of dish soap. We both enjoy practical things and like talking about how people do things in different places. Here in Nicaragua we have this awesome dish paste. Mom and I had talked about how effective and long lasting it was--and now she finally got to try it out. 

So, while you might not think dish soap is a nice gift, I think my Mom did. We had to do dishes anyhow--and now each time we are washing, we with remember our time together being amazed by the never ending bubbles from this nifty paste--and how we are connected by simple things. 

See, that's the thing about the perfect gift: it's only perfect for the right person. True gifts--the perfect gifts are not interchangeable. 

This is a hard truth for me. One of the biggest struggles in my life has been being angry that God doesn't always give me what I want. I read verses like  James 1:17 ¹⁷ Every good action and every perfect gift is from God. or Matthew 7:9 ⁹ “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? ¹⁰ Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? ¹¹ If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! 

and it's easy to stay mad. I am praying for "bread" here, why don't I get it? Other people have "bread"--Why not me? Am I on the naughty list? Does God not love me? Maybe God isn't so good--maybe He isn't so loving if He keeps rejecting my requests. 

Ah--but see, gifts are not interchangeable. And what is a good gift for one person, just might not be a perfect gift for me. God is bigger than what I think I want. He knows me better than I do. I can easily be confused about what I really want.

Jeremiah 17 9 A human heart is more dishonest than anything else. It can’t be healed. Who can understand it? 10 The Lord says, “I look deep down inside human hearts. I see what is in people’s minds. I reward a man in keeping with his conduct. I bless him based on what he has done.” 

Look at the verses around James 1:17. Notice that he has just been talking about temptation?

...do not be fooled about this.¹⁷ Every good action and every perfect gift is from God...¹⁸ God decided to give us life through the word of truth...

It's easy to be fooled. It's easy to think that I know what I want, and what is best for me. It's easy to think I am capable of choosing my own gifts. But God wants to give me the perfect gift. Gifts that lead to life.

Maybe a gift that looks like beans or dish soap seems like a funny thing to receive. Maybe it's not what I would ask for. But the God who has every gift at His disposal knows exactly what I need.