On Tuesday the 10th, Peter had a bad day, broke two windows in his bedroom with his fists, and requested a trip to the emergency psychiatric place for kids.  We ended up coming right home, however, without checking in.  Also Peter’s request.  Definitely not a good day.

On Friday the 13th, ironically, we went on a family outing, made it to Moro Bay and back without any accidents or broken things or even tantrums.  The weather was nice.  The ice cream in Cayucus was delicious.  Nothing particularly unlucky happened at all.  And on Saturday the 14th we got a letter in the mail saying that Peter had passed the high school exit exam, even the English part which includes an essay.

So I’ve decided that the tide is turning for the Langleys.  Tide can only go out for so long.  Eventually it has to come in again.  One would hope not in the form of a tsunami.  It goes out, it comes in.  Actually, I think we’ve already had our tsunami.  Our tide went way out.  We’ve had our tsunami.  We’re still a bit wet and our possessions are swirling out to sea.  But now, I think, it’s time for the tide to gently come in and lap at our shores again in a normal fashion and only go in and out little bits at a time from here on out.  How does that sound?

From now on I will tell the story of how things begin to go right for the Langleys.  I’m tired of that other plot.  The one where things just keep going wrong.  So I’m changing it.  And don’t point out that this is a silly thing to say, that I’m not in control of what happens to us.  DON”T SAY IT!

What I really mean, I suppose, is that I refuse to allow myself to be shaped by defeat and brokenness.  And I am in control of that.  I will be shaped by Bach sonatas, and sunsets and mocking birds and inner truth and poetry.  I defy things to keep going wrong.  If they do, I’ll . . . . play my cello really loud.  AND I MEAN IT!


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