On a chilly evening in May, after twenty-one years of marriage, I stood at the door of a Catholic convent with two of my children. My fears and insecurities were so strong that I thought they might destroy me. Somewhere inside, you know when you've crossed the line into the unknown, that place you were so afraid of facing. You're not exactly certain how it happened, but something emerges inside that takes on a life of its own and you realize you've just experienced the end of an era. My doubts and fears hovered like luminous demons, taunting my perceived inability to survive in a world I hardly knew. Casting out those demons led me toward an adventure that was to recreate me again and again. In facing my fears, I found the strength and the courage to abandon the familiar and allow myself to be reinvented by life's struggles.