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.