Tomorrow is the day. Jonathan and I will head in at 8am. Surgery begins whenever surgical cardiologist finishes his first case.

I feel many emotions, the most prevailing one is peace. I've felt dread as I was made to watch educational videos on how open heart surgery works. I've felt gratitude that our family had a three-day weekend to live it up together. And even more gratitude for the outpouring of support, encouragement and prayers we've received. I've felt anger as I think about having to miss being there for my daughters. And, laughter, the laughter has been rich and deep, the sort of side-aching, face-hurting laughter as I've made fun of myself and encouraged friends to make fun of the insanity of this ridiculousness.

It's late and I've already broken my promise. I've done way more telling than showing. Right now is for telling. Later will be for the showing. Tomorrow, I'll go in with pistols out and guns blazing. I may feel brave; I may not. Either way all I have to do is show-up. When I'm done, the first thing I'll want back is my dark-witted humor, and that extra six inches of height God always meant to give me.