Old, new, and blue.

Three months, five days, and approximately seven and three quarters of an hour ago, I became Catholic.

I "signed on the dotted line" and made the Catholic Church my forever home that day, March 22, 2016, at approximately one o'clock in the afternoon.

To me, this day is my "Adoption Day." Like a child who is adopted, their life may start on one day but it really starts on another, perhaps years later, like me. They may have had beautiful, joyful times with people who love them very much, but at the end of the day, for reasons unto each child and family, they must forge ahead and seek a new home that will best allow them room to grow and flourish.

Adoption is not without pain. It is not without grief. There is something lost that could have been. There is the temptation to run back to the past. But, finding that we cannot grasp the past, we are consumed by the fear that all is lost. We fear that there is nothing for us moving forward and wrestling with this fear is exhausting. We stew in bitterness as we resign ourselves to a future we do not want.

I am no stranger to this side of the story, but ultimately, in my story and every story, Love triumphs over pain and Joy drives out fear and bitterness. There is Life, renewal, and resurrection. Now doesn't that sound like a familiar tale?

So it is with me and my tale (which has hardly begun, of course). This is the tale I intend to tell here. Mine, but really His.

An old tale, one we all know, of a daring knight seeking his beloved, slaying beasts and putting his very life on the line just to win her heart. A new tale, one of a little girl turned woman trying to cultivate a lovely, life-giving life, in a world that has hardened its heart. And finally, a blue tale, one that is inundated with the maternal love of the Mother of Mercy, the Blessed Virgin Mary, ever pointing me to the Cross.

Here's to the old.

Here's to the new.

Here's to our Mama, all dressed (and blessed) in blue.