There is something about an elderly person that draws me. Someone whose eyes have seen the world, good and bad, and has a wisdom that comes from living. Someone whose skin testifies to the weight of time. Someone who seems her fragile shoulders cannot hold up against the weight of time, but somehow they always do.

This is Momma Claire. She is 94, and she has had a massive thyroid goiter for more than 20 years. It started out small, but just kept growing and growing. Her small frame bent over the weight of it. She came to the ship from far away to have it removed.

The night before surgery, we were sitting together in the ward, talking about the surgery and taking pictures so that when it was all over, there would be proof of the amazing change that had happened. Since there are communication barriers - my French only goes so far and continuously comes out in Spanish first - we did a lot of hand gestures and facial expressions. When taking the photos, Momma Claire was so serious. I mean, I guess if I had a massive growth on my neck, I would be serious about it too. But the staff and I - we decided to make it fun. We started making crazy faces. Momma Claire decided to show her spunky side and showed us how it was done. We spent the night before her surgery laughing until the tears rolled down.

The surgery went well. Momma Claire ended up staying the first night in ICU, as the goiter had completely surrounded the trachea and there was question about her airway. After that, she returned to the ward and was her spunky little self. Even with two drains in and a large neck bandage, she would always grin mischievously from her bed. She loved to go to ward church, where all the patients gathered on Sunday mornings to worship. As I wheeled her down the corridor in a wheelchair and sat holding her hand in church and raising our arms in worship together to a God who has great plans for His people, my heart was so full.

Claire has gone home twenty pounds lighter, with little more than a scar to prove what had happened to her. And that scar is a beautiful thing. It reminds her of what she used to have, of her deformity and her body's own rebellion against her, and most importantly, of how the Lord provided a way for her to be healed. That scar is a reminder, a tattoo of the faithfulness of the Lord. It means she lived. It means hope.

I hope you are encouraged by what God is doing around the world. 

     Meet one of my very special patients, this brave girl - Ravette.

Ravette was born bow legged. On top of that, she has sickle cell. She came to Mercy Ships sick and needed a lot of care before she was even eligible for surgery. She has never been able to walk normally, play or run like a kid should. Her surgery went well - her bones cut and realigned, having to wear casts for more than two months. This girl - she faced it all with bravery and more than that, with joy. 

She is the best patient anyone could ask for. When you went to draw blood from her, she willingly gave you her arm – only after she did a little dance. Her smile was still in place. Even when you checked on her and she was clearly in pain or uncomfortable, she would smile. And not just any smile – a brilliant, all-teeth, light up the eyes type of smile. She would flash a thumbs-up. Whenever there was any hint of music, this girl would be dancing. Getting down. Her hysterical giggles could be heard at any moment in the ward. She was such a joy to care for.

Ravette is now staying at the Hope Center, a center that we have set up for the patients who no longer need acute medical care after surgery, but still require dressing changes and follow ups frequently enough that they cannot go home.  When I last saw her, it was precious and heart wrenching at the same time seeing her learning to walk, hesitant to bend her knees and taking baby steps. She had spent her whole life walking one way and now, she is learning all over again.

Just like us - when our eyes are opened and we see we have been walking the wrong way. God gives us the grace to be able to walk uprightly, to start out taking baby steps and learn to bend the knee so we can bow the knee before Him.

  

Just recently, Ravette got one of her casts off! She is on the road to a changed life! Sometimes I sit in the middle of the ward, quiet amidst the chaos of twenty patients and caregivers in one room, and look around at the lives being changed right in front of my eyes. I am privileged to be a part of this, of visibly seeing how God changes the outside of a person and imagining the same transformation on the inside of a person, transformed by the grace and love of Jesus. 

I have learned from Ravette - about joy and how to relearn to walk uprightly. I will never forget her face.