June 30 was the 13th Sunday in Ordinary time. As I drove to Mass that morning, I wondered if it was a special feast day for a Saint, but nothing came to mind. My husband wasn't there to ask since we were in separate cars that day. I thought nothing more about it, until we were listening to the readings, and then I knew.
It was MY Sunday! (I obviously had not been listening to the lector when he said, "Today is the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time.") It was the (18th?!) anniversary of day when I could no longer deny that Christ was calling me to the Catholic Church. All my philosophical doubts had already fallen away, and the only thing stopping me from converting was the opinions of my family. I knew that to continue to sit on the fence would be the equivalent of telling my Heavenly Father "No". And that was something I didn't want to do.
The tears started flowing when I realized what day it was. Even when I thought I had pulled myself together and wiped my eyes with dh's hankie, they continued to flow. Those tears of joy for the gift I've been given.
The day was made extra special when I went to pick up Meg who had slept over at a friend's house. Her mom must be one of the few people who know the story (well, outside of the internet), and she said, "It's your special day, isn't it?" She had shed a few tears of joy for me at Mass, too.