Everything seems to change when the two giant, automatic doors open to allow you entry to pre-op. Been here before. Still an education in gravity. The mental kind. Here’s where our decision becomes real. Jordan is fine. Watching tv.

We are in the waiting area for pre-op. Jordan is perky. She has already had me read her two books and she’s now sampling video games. I think she took my advice to heart. She’s letting Nettie and I do all the worrying. Her only complaint so far is that it is taking too long … and she hates the hospital pajamas. She heads up to pre-op in about 15 minutes.

Until I held her in my arms I hadn’t been bewitched. She with the perfectly rounded head, the bowed lips, the eyes that lifted your dreams. I learned about humility that day. I became a daughter’s dad. I had been blessed before. No feeling like welcoming a son, they say. And it was glorious. But with this angel in my arms I thought the lottery had enriched me twice. I get asked how I’m doing a lot these days.

Surgery has been scheduled for Thursday, August 4th. She’s booked to stay in the hospital for five days, unless her recovery goes really well and she’s able to go home earlier. Many of you have asked how you can help. Thank you. We’re putting a game plan together. It is likely that we’ll need the most help once she’s home. In the meantime, please keep Jordan in your thoughts. This is a high-risk surgical procedure.

There’s a way she looks at me sometimes that puts me so at ease even though I’m a bundle of nerves. I could say that it is a wisdom beyond her years, but I know that it is actually her own nerves battling her resolve. When she is truly troubled about something–something that requires her to quiet herself and wander through her thoughts–her eyes take on the most lovely stillness. They are absolutely alive, but her gaze turns gentle and the corners of her mouth relax.