I had a runaway daughter this past week. The middle child, now almost 17, in an original sibling group of 7 tough, strong-willed children, tore out of our house after the beautiful afternoon high school graduation of her older birth sister.

I’d pointed out that she seemed to be harboring a raging case of PMS. Often she’s referred to as our favorite Viper Girl due to a particularly strong mean streak. Conversely she’s very attached to me, needs my constant reassurance and she’s affectionate as well, helpful even.

Her birth mom had singled her out for physical abuse; she’s often shared some horrific tales of abuse with me. Slow to trust me, she’d been seeing a psychologist for years, progressing nicely I’d thought.

This entire sibling group is overly aggressive and physical, almost to the point of uncomfortable violence, not that there’s ever a level of comfortable violence. It’s just that they’re right on the edge, simmering and often ready to blow up over any imagined provocation.

She’d attacked her thirteen year old, equally as mean sister in the pantry over a box of cake mix. I’d flown in there to separate them and her anger flared up at me for no reason. Within an hour she was gone and we didn’t hear from her for five days.

Her best friend, returning from a trip, took it upon herself on the fifth day to call every possible person she knew. We’d already invited our friendly local deputy to come over and I’d filed a runaway report, but I was reluctant to press charges. Usually Viper Girl can be maintained; usually she’s glued to my side, involved with our family while staring warily at the outside world that once hurt her so much.

I’d even had to home school her last year, after several fist fights at school, demonstrating a clear inability to function socially, we used that time at home for some serious mother-daughter bonding. She’d been failing all her classes anyway so it wasn’t like she had much to lose at that point.

This year she’d returned to school and had passed 7 out of 8 classes, a record for her.

While she was gone, I’d signed her up for summer school, feeling positive that she’d blow back in just as she’d blown out. Her guidance counselor, a man from my church, had agreed with me in prayer that she’d come back in time.

Fortunately her friend found her, she returned home to face the music to the tune of behavior restrictions. She apologized, agreed I was right, it’d been severe PMS and all is well once again.

She started summer school today and I’ll continue to see her successes in my mind, I’ll keep pushing and encouraging her, until she’s strong and independent, not still needing me, but accomplishing great things on her own. I know she can do it.