Collected, Random Thoughts of a Sleepy Mom

After I wrote this post, I began to feel ill again in a matter of days. On the bright side, I've been to the doctor, and had extensive blood work done. The only finding was elevated CRP's, which could be explained by the sinus infection I had on the day my blood was drawn. My doctor hasn't said for sure, but it looks like I'll live, people. That is, if I make it through allergy season.

I find lots of sleep, a simple schedule and a healthy diet packed with 10,000 daily IUs of Vitamin D to be the perfect recipe to improving my health. And I have been feeling better.

I'm growing weary of watching television. Maybe this is because I have spent so many weeks with little else to do. I'm finding every show I watch to be boring or offensive. I find myself sitting with Brandon while it's on, but not really watching. The one show I watch alone is on the chopping block.

The sunshine and spring warmth are calling me outdoors. Micah and I have been answering the call with afternoon playtime in a sun ray, including bubbles, sidewalk chalk, and ball games in which Micah rolls the ball down the hill and laughs hysterically as I run after it before it rolls into the street or too deeply in the woods.

Tomorrow, I will enjoy the outdoors by going on a walk by the lake with a friend.

Micah had a haircut on Saturday. Now, he is thoroughly a little boy, and no longer resembles my baby. I keep meaning to take a picture to post. I will soon.

My novel is calling for me now that I feel well enough to think about it. The problem is that sleep, housework, teaching and loving two very lovable men are taking up all of my time right now. I'm hoping this 10-12 hours a night sleep schedule will let up on its own soon. I would love an hour or two a day to write. I need to "correct" my main character, and edit the dialogue. I was reading through my draft the other day, and realized to my horror that all of my characters talk exactly as I do. As my main characters are kids raised in rural North Louisiana, it doesn't work. At all. My other finding is that I like my main character so much that I shy away from telling the truth about her. She is flawed, and I need to let her be that or her story falls flat. Also, I'm getting new ideas all the time, and would love an opportunity to write them out. The only answer is to sleep less which probably isn't likely anytime soon.

On Monday nights, Brandon is late coming home. Last Monday, Micah and I sat down to eat together before Brandon made it home. I reached for Micah's hand, intending to bless the food, but Daisy distracted me. I can't remember what she had in her mouth, but it was something she shouldn't. I yelled at her, and stomped across the room, yanking the forbidden object from her jowls. I sat back down next to Micah, utterly distracted. He looked at me questioningly.

"Jesus? Pray?" he asked, reaching for my hand. My heart did a few somersaults before my lips had time to unleash my huge grin upon him.

"Yes," I said. And I prayed with him. I love that he expects prayer at mealtime.


Micah's bedtime routine is getting his bath, hugging Daddy goodnight, getting his pacifier and "awie" (blanket), and reading a book (or two). Then, I turn off the light, pray for him, and rock and sing to him until he's sleepy. I always sing, "Jesus Loves Me," and maybe a couple of others. The other night, I sang, "There's Something About That Name."As I settled him into his little bed nest of awies, he began singing the name of "Jesus" to a hybrid tune of "Jesus Loves Me" and "There's Something About That Name." My heartbeat provided percussion to his sweet baby song.


I'm learning to spend time with the Lord differently these days. I no longer find it possible to rise at 6:30pm, and I often take a nap while Micah naps, so my time with God has suffered. I decided to observe Lent this year, choosing to give up Facebook. My objective is to use the time I would spend on Facebook in prayer or in the Bible. Some days I'm successful; some days I'm not. I would appreciate your prayers that I would adjust to the demands of my new schedule, prioritizing the Lord within that schedule. I don't know what this will look like in practice, but I'm willing to try something new in spite of my ultra regulated, routine-oriented personality and preferences.

*Yawn* My pillow calls. Goodnight.

And Then He Turned Two . . .

Micah turned 2 on Saturday.

Twenty years ago, two years felt like two lifetimes. This is going to sound so cliche, but the last two years felt more like two blinks of the eyes. If I allow my eyes to remain closed for a moment, I can still feel the terror closing around my throat as he emerged into the world all purple and quiet, and the relief washing over me, allowing me to breathe again as I see him change color, from purple to pink, within seconds of being freed from the umbilical cord. I can smell his new baby skin. I can hear his indignant screams. The euphoria of having brought him into the world still makes my brain go a little hazy in the most pleasant sense, and all I can think is, "God, please don't let me lose that."

Last year on his birthday, he wasn't walking yet. His vocabulary was under 10 words. His attention span lasted about 15 minutes even with favorite activities. Today, he knows several alphabet letters. I think it's funny that the letters "B" and "S," were learned sequentially and continue to be favorites. He has favorite books, favorite television shows, and he's speaking in full sentences. He's graduated from the high chair to a big boy seat at the table, and has bidden his crib farewell in exchange for a toddler bed, which he loves, because now he can creep into our bedroom at 3:00 am, gleefully cry out, "Boo!," startling us out of sleep. Brandon can tell you, there's nothing quite like a nose to nose greeting at 3am.

On Saturday, our families gathered to celebrate all of that. Well, maybe not the 3am greetings.

Our boy loves balls, so we went with a ball theme.

It may be ugly, but you can see what I was trying to accomplish here.

Gluten-free goodies.

Emory enjoyed her gluten free cupcake.

As did Paisly.

After cake and presents, we ventured outside because Micah wanted to release balloons into the sky. He let them go, one by one, and we all watched until they disappeared into the clouds.

It may sound uneventful, but it was peaceful and happy and perfect. Micah loved his party, and we loved watching him love his party.

Our big boy is two. It happened too fast. I've been unhelpfully warned several times in the past few days that in a few more blinks, he'll be sporting a cap and gown, trying to choose a career, waiting at the end of an aisle for a girl who will be hard pressed to love him as much as I do . . . I can't think about all of that right now. For now, we will revel in his third year of life, eking out all of its goodness. I'm in no hurry to release him into the vast unknown, but when that day comes, you can bet your best chocolate chip cookie recipe that I will be watching all the while, and relying heavily upon technology if he ever finds the right cloud to disappear into.

28 days

I was sick for 28 days. Illnesses came in succession, with hours or, at best, a day in between. It was a the longest 28 days I've experienced in awhile. I fully realize that I'm not the only one who has been hit hard by illness in the past couple of months. Every time I check Facebook, someone is complaining about being ill, their children being ill or the entire family being ill. (By the way, I was totally guilty of this.) I think it's just been a bad season.

Twenty-eight days is a relatively short amount of time, but a long time to be sick. In the latter half of those 28 days, I began to feel as if I lived in a bubble--looking out at people who were living life normally, while I was stuck at home unable to do much of anything. I desperately wanted to do things. I was depressed, and a little jealous of all of the healthy people playing with their children, going to work, cooking yummy meals and wanting to eat them.

I don't have any deep insights about why I think God allowed me to be sick for so long or why literally everything I had been doing came to an abrupt halt. I haven't figured out an overall plan in this which somehow allows me to think about it all with a knowing grin. I'm not even glad it happened. Honestly, I wish it hadn't. I hated the days I couldn't take care of Micah. I felt guilty for asking for so much help, even though I was super appreciative for it. (Thank you Brandon, Nona, Mom and Debbie for all of the chicken soup, for taking such good care of Micah and for your faithful prayers. I love you.) Even though I can now manage to cook dinner, clean the kitchen and bathe Micah at night before I collapse with exhaustion, I'm still not at my normal energy level. I don't know if a person can understand why bad things happen regardless of how bad the bad thing scores on the "How Bad Bad Things Rank" list. (Yes, I realize my bad thing doesn't rank very high, but I give it at least a 3.)

And yet, I trust.

I trust that God does have a plan in it all. I trust that the plan is for my good. I trust that God can work out His plans and purposes without my help. And I do smile, just not with any level of knowing. I'll admit it--I'm clueless here.

I smile because I haven't run fever in almost two weeks. I smile because I was given gifts from the Psalms, such as, "For You will light my lamp; The Lord will enlighten my darkness," [Psalm 18:28) "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life," (Psalm 23:6) and "For You have considered me in my trouble; You have known my soul in adversities" (Psalm 31:7b). The blessings at the end of the 28 days sit in a heaping pile at which I stand back and marvel with a clueless, dopey grin--a restful family vacation, the ability to celebrate Micah's 2nd birthday on Saturday, the Marriage Oneness study Brandon and I have begun together, utterly unexpected answers to longtime prayers. And these things given, when I can't and couldn't give God a single thing in return other than my unfailing belief that He would eventually heal me and that He is always good . . . especially in times of trial. And yet we know that faith is not something we can conjure or muster. Faith is a gift; more evidence of God's goodness. (Ephesians 2:8)

For my family, friends and friends' families that have struggled too long with being sick:

"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord; Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the Lord."

-Psalm 27:13-14


I leave you with a preview of the next post:

The Discipline of Rest

It has been a difficult three weeks. As I recovered from my allergic reactions in January, I became ill with the stomach flu. As I recovered from the stomach flu, I came down with a certain strand of the real flu which was neither Type A or B. As I recovered from the flu, I came down with a cold, which is progressively getting worse. That brings me to today. After three weeks of this, I can say with conviction that I'm sick of being sick. However, even when this latest, and hopefully last, illness of the season departs, I have only a period of isolation to look forward to, a difficult reality for someone who enjoys routine, plans and people and who often falls prey to the temptation to base her value and worth upon the number of checks on her to-do list. When I became ill with the flu, I did the unthinkable for me. I called off all music lessons for the rest of the month, decided to take a break from going to church and teaching Sunday school and made plans to stay home until our family vacation to Branson in two weeks, which I may or may not be well enough to actually take. Needless to say, I'm totally bummed.

A lot of people have been praying for me, which I have greatly needed and appreciated. One of those people is Mrs. Dixie, a special person I have mentioned before. Mrs. Dixie has been my mother's spiritual mentor for years, and recently became my own. God has used her in my life to challenge, convict, and console me. And she has the most uncanny knack for somehow synchronizing her telephone calls with my lowest spiritual moments. Including last night, she has done this three times in a row, and many more times than that overall. That's not coincidence. That's God connecting two people to the same wire.

Yesterday was my first day to keep Micah all by myself after all of my illness. I did some necessary laundry, and cooked dinner, and by the time I sat down to eat, I was past the point of exhaustion. There were still dishes to do and a boy to bathe and to put to bed, and I simply could not do it all. The realization was maddening, especially in light of the fact that I felt that the only ministry God had left in my hands was to serve my family. I had to ask Brandon, who has also recently been ill and had worked a long day at the pharmacy, to either help with the dishes or with Micah. He chose to take care of Micah (and who wouldn't?). He left to bathe our son, which left me alone in the kitchen with my demon-driven thoughts and self-accusations. The pattern, which circled in my mind over and over again, went something like this:

"You have been entrusted with one last ministry--just one!--and you can't even do that right. Your family needs you, and you can't even do the simplest of tasks. If you can't minister to your family, God will never trust you with your other ministries ever again."

I knew that voice well enough, and I knew it wasn't the voice of the Holy Spirit, but I couldn't find the strength to rebuke it. I was in tears when the phone rang. "Dixie," my cell phone read. I answered it without hesitation. A part of me may have been halfway expecting it. We talked for awhile, but to sum up the most important part of the conversation, I will paraphrase what she said to me about my ministry.

"Sometimes God relieves us of our ministries for a season. Accept His decision, and choose only to rest in Him."

A simple, perfect concept.

Today, I relinquished all of my ministries--teaching music, teaching Sunday school, spending time with my Christian sisters, my family, even my ministry of intercession--and my ridiculous to-do list into His ultra-capable hands. I asked only that He would fill me with His Spirit, help me to rest in His person, and help me to walk in the Spirit, thereby working in me to will and to do only the good works which He has prepared beforehand for me to do according to His good pleasure for this specific season.

The following passages are from today's meditation. They have been paraphrased and adapted from multiple translations. I hope they bless you as much as they have blessed me.

"The Lord is my Shepherd.
In Him, I will be satisfied.
He makes me lie down and rest.
He leads me to a peaceful place.
He restores my weary soul.
He leads me in the way of righteousness
for the sake of His glorious name."
~Psalm 23:1-3


"Preserve me, O God, for in You I put my trust.
I say to the Lord, 'You are my Lord!'
Apart from you, I have no good thing.
The godly people in the land
are my true heroes!
I take pleasure in them.

(Here, I'd like to shout out to Mrs. Dixie, Nona and my mom,
for they are truly "godly people.")

Troubles multiply for those who chase after other gods.
I will not take part in their sacrifices of blood
or even speak the names of other gods.
Lord, you alone are my inheritance, my cup of blessing.
You guard all that is mine
(including my life, my health).
The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
yes, I have a good inheritance.
I will bless the Lord who guides me;
My heart also instructs me in the night seasons.
I know the Lord is always with me.
I will not be shaken, for He is right beside me.
Therefore, my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices;
MY FLESH ALSO WILL REST IN HOPE.For you will not leave my soul among the dead,
or allow your holy one to rot in the grave.
You will show me the way of life,
granting me the joy of your presence
and the pleasures of living with you forever.
~Psalm 16

2011 So Far

The whole earth has turned grey, and the life of the wood beyond the perimeter of my yard has gone to sleep, excepting a few brave birds who are only glad to have escaped the harsher climates of the north. The sun is sleeping behind a thick haze of clouds, and like me in the morning, it doesn't want to get out of bed. The cold that somehow creeps through my three layers of clothing chases me indoors, making me shiver at the thought of going out again. And I live in Louisiana, not Canada.

I am no longer descending from the high of winter festivities, goodwill and resolutions, which were a blast, by the way. Highlights include:

My studio Christmas recital

My sister, Emily, celebrated Christmas Eve Eve with us.

Santa made his first stop at the Keaster household, and Micah was very glad he did.


I had my second Christmas with my two favorite guys.

Finally, God was very gracious to my family. My cousin, Kristy, pictured on the right, was in a house fire with my aunt and uncle the morning after Christmas. The smoke alarms didn't work.They were sound asleep. Somehow, despite the limited oxygen in the air, my aunt woke to the sound of glass breaking. Their escape is, in my mind, nothing short of miraculous. Only by the Lord's tender mercies, do I still have all of my family, for which I am thankful on the greyest of days.

Even in light of all the good that has been in the past month, I've smacked the bottom of the spiral, and I can't seem to make myself get back up. Oh yes, I'm taking extra Vitamin D, and teaching from the glow of my Happy Light. (Thanks, Mom.) I'm praying, reading my Bible, making myself do things that sometimes, I just don't want to do, like arrange my unruly hair, put on make-up, risk life and limb by going out into germ-infested territory (a.k.a. public places of any kind a.k.a the grocery store, gas pump, bank, etc.), scrub toilets and the like. I smile a thousand times a day thanks to Micah, whose vocabulary and sense of humor is rapidly blossoming. I'm doing all kinds of fulfilling things--teaching, meeting with friends, reading good books and purchasing new music off of Itunes at an alarming rate. But I just can't shake the greys. You think I meant to write, "I just can't shake the blues," but no, I meant greys. My mood is as grey as the days. No inspiration. No creation. No spark. Just grey.

Sigh. It must be January.

The plan was to charge and assault January so hard and heavy that I wouldn't even know that it was January and maybe, just maybe, January wouldn't know it was January. Ha! Ha! I had devised a brilliant scheme!

The plan didn't pan out, though. The first week went well. I was encouraged by the fast, steady, yet manageable rhythm of the week, and was looking forward to three more just like it. I felt so elated by the successful week, that I made not one, not three, but 10 New Year's Resolutions, all of which I think I believed I could achieve in a month's time. I was in a "hoo-rah!" kind of mood.

1. Press on. (This is a spiritual goal based off of Philippians 3:12-14.)
2. Become a better wife and mother.
3. Cook more adventurously.
4. Organize the house.
5. Finish my novel.
6. Do the planned/intended crafting projects that need doing in the house. i.e. Sew the curtains.
7. Do something to improve my piano and vocal teaching.
8. Potty train Micah.
9. Begin some focused education with Micah.
10. Memorize Ephesians by the end of June.

At the end of the week, I thought to myself, "I have this." Pride cometh before a fall.

The following weekend mocked me by wrecking my lovely plans with my sister, Emily, and keeping me from teaching my Monday students. On Sunday, freezing rain and chunks of ice too small to be sleet and too plunky to be snow fell from the heavens, freezing not only the earth, but time itself that day and the day after. Five make-up lessons aren't easy to fit into a month when you're charging it like a running back making for the endzone.

On Thursday, I came down with what I thought was a stomach bug. I vomited more times that day than I have total since childhood. I was ill for the entire weekend, which wrecked my plans to see my dear friend, Danielle Dorey on Saturday, and my sister, Emily, the following day. On Monday, I repeated the breakfast I'd eaten on the previous (and fateful) Thursday morning, minus the bacon which I unfairly and falsely accused of being bad, and began vomiting again. The culprit was the deceptively delicious and dangerous gluten-free muffins Brandon had brought home for me to try. Note to self: Teff flour is poisonous. Not made for my consumption. I canceled a third day of lessons in a week's time, and honestly, I'm unsure how that much time will be made up. I have taught the past couple of days, but haven't felt well due to the allergic rash that covers all of me from the neck down and the stomach ulcer the teff flour left in its wake.

Thus, I find myself a little doom and gloom, which is quite normal for a January, to speak truthfully. While this is my least favorite month of them all, I find a grotesque sense of beauty in it this year. I may not be productive in the traditional sense of the word. I may not be the easy-going, cheery person I wish I could be at this time of year, but I believe there is something worthwhile in the act of the struggle. Forced to reckon with my weaknesses, I depend on Someone much better and greater than myself, or my brilliant schemes. I cling to my daily times with the Lord with renewed vigor because I know that these are my lifeline, the one thing that will see me through. I find victory in memorizing Ephesians, one slow verse at a time. I'm already on chapter two, which begins, "And you He made alive!" (Exclamation point mine.)

The days are dark and cold. I haven't worked on my novel as I would have liked. I have to muster energy to meet the growing imaginative demands of my child. Shoot, I have to muster energy to exchange my PJs for jeans and a t-shirt, but something good is happening--I'm learning perseverance, or rather, beginning to bear it as a tree bears fruit. Regardless, there is something more to my faith than what I alone can bring to it, and that is comforting news.

January 2011, you only have 12 days left. Teach me all you have to offer.


"In their hearts, humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps." -Proverbs 16:9

Everything Changed

Winter has settled in for its three month long stay. In Louisiana, that means that the temperatures will shift between comfortable and cold, the weathermen will falsely predict snow a half dozen times, and the locusts will fall silent until the arrival of spring in March. The trees have lost much or most of their brilliantly fall-hued foliage. Their bare arms are reaching for the sky in the hope they can catch the illusive sun, or flag it down, and convince it to stay another hour. As winter arrives, Christmas awaits just around the bend! I love this time of year for many reasons. I love the generosity that spreads around like the flu. I love gathering with my family over and over and over again--as long as we all manage to behave ourselves. I love the music, the lights, the parties and the food. This year has been especially enjoyable, and it has almost everything to do with Micah.

This year, I was able to watch Micah help his Daddy decorate the Christmas tree.I have enjoyed taking out Micah's nativity set almost every day. It thrills my heart to hear him call Mary, "Momma," Joseph, "Daddy," and the Baby, "Jesus."
I love the fact that Micah prances around the house wielding wrapping paper rolls like swords, ready to challenge anyone--man, woman or black and white spotted dog--to a duel. I have to warn you--he cheats. He always uses two, like Antonio Banderas in Zorro, as opposed to my one and Daisy's . . . . none. I enjoy hearing him quasi-sing "Jingle Bells" and trip over the lyrics of "Hallelujah." The boy loves some Handel, and who can blame him?

I love Christmas pictures made in Christmas outfits put on Christmas cards, which are then sent out to friends and family.

Most of all, I enjoy this time of year because it reminds me of the reason I hope for a better tomorrow. It reminds me of the vast lovingkindness and compassion of our Awesome Creator God who doesn't owe us a thing, yet is on a continual rescue mission on our behalf. It is for this reason that I would like to cordially invite you to the Christmas Eve service at Crossroads Church in Ruston, LA at 5 p.m. on December 24th. I helped plan the program and prepare the choir. I know that you will be blessed by the music, the fellowship and the worship of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

The Christmas Eve worship service at Crossroads is special to me because it is the service that drew me to Crossroads three years ago. The week of Christmas in 2007 was one of the worst weeks of my life. The events of that week left me reeling and broken for months. Had God not been especially good and gracious to me in the days, weeks and months that followed, I might not have darkened the door of a church of any kind ever again. That sounds dramatic, but it is no stretch to the truth. Three years ago, my good friend, Erica Kordsmeier, invited me to the Christmas Eve service, knowing that I would enjoy the music, but having no idea how God would use that event to change my life in ways that I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams.

My friend, Erica

Brandon and I sat in the back. I didn't know many people, which made me feel a little better about quietly crying through most of the service. I cried because my heart was broken. I cried because the music was beautiful. I cried because I could feel the love of the believers in the room. Most of all, I cried because in that gathering, I felt the presence of the Lord more strongly than I had felt it in years. In a room of strangers, my famished soul found nourishment. I lapped it up with the grace of a starving dog. I probably looked like I had attended a funeral when I left, but the time had acted like balm to my invisible wounds. Okay, okay, enough with the cliche metaphors.

The service didn't fix me--let's be clear; Jesus fixed me--but it made me hungry for more of the Spirit at Crossroads. It began a domino reaction which led to the following: More crying through services. Healing. Forgiveness. Church membership. Christian friends. Spiritual revival. Discipleship (I found two women to disciple me). Spiritual growth. Service. Discipleship (I began discipling others). Joy in the Lord! Helping to plan and prepare the Christmas Eve service in the hope that it will draw someone else to the greatest adventure of his/her life.

While at Crossroads, God has changed everything. In a time of hurt and rebellion, this service wooed me right into His hand. This God, the Highest Being of the universe, humbled Himself by coming into this world in the vulnerability of an infant's body. He did this to show that He is not only for the great in this world, but for the lowest of the low, the poorest of the poor--the group of which I consider myself a part. That God, was born to die so that we could have life in Him. I was dead without Him, and now I am alive! He brought me to life, healed my brokenness and replaced my tears with laughter. Every quest and desire for happiness is met in Him. I have seen many miracles in the past three years. Yes, many. But, one of the greatest miracles I have witnessed is how He has turned one of my greatest heartbreaks into the greatest good in my life. When I allow my heart to venture back into the hurt of three years ago, I can only smile. I remember my hurt as if through a haze. What I feel today is gratitude and joy. Only God does that, and He can do it for anyone.

Funny how something as simple as a single service . . . or the birth of a Baby changes everything.

Merry Christmas.

November In Review

Due to noveling escapades, too many musical appointments and general holiday hullabaloo, I haven't blogged in . . . . like . . . . awhile. So, here is November in review. I'll have to get to December later.

Halloween was awesome. Why was Halloween awesome?

That's why. That, and the fact that Micah totally "got" Halloween this year. All Dum-Dums, peppermints and M&Ms beware--Micah knows now.
Other Halloween highlights include:

1) The twins went as two peas in a pod.

2) My studio rocked it out on their Halloween tour of the nursing and retirement homes of Union Parish. These places offer both pros and cons to young performers. On one hand, the people who live there don't really care about the quality of the performance, they just want to see the kids. On the other, nursing homes can be scary, smelly places, understandably frightening to young children and adults alike. In spite of that fact, they played well, had fun prancing around in their costumes and brought a ray of sunshine into each home that day. They are my heroes, and I love them.



3) Micah enjoyed carving pumpkins with his dad. I love that my husband loves to spend time with our son. I love the enthusiasm in Micah's voice every time he calls out, "Daddy!" I love their bond, and it is one of my dearest hopes that their bond grows thicker, richer, stronger and deeper throughout their lifetimes.

Around Halloween, something truly incredible happened--I reunited with my sister, Emily. Some of you remember her as the precious 3 year old who lived with us for a year all that time ago. Well, she isn't 3 anymore. She's beautiful, smart, witty, fun and 16 years old. I'm so excited about getting to know her again. The more time I spend with her, the more I love her, and the more sure I become that God orchestrated this whole crazy thing. He must have GREAT things in store for her, and I plan to be around to see it. More to come.

On a final note--I did it! I wrote 50,149 words during the month of November, meeting my goal. My novel is far from complete. After I finish writing the story, there is much editing to do. I'm not even sure it will be any good. However, quality wasn't my goal. My goal was to quit whining about wanting to write, and actually write. I did that, and do you know what I discovered? I can. I also discovered that if I bring my characters through all of the trouble I have brewing in my brain, I will have a series, not a single novel, on my hands. I am excited about the prospects and the adventure ahead. I will keep you all posted. As my friends, supporters and prayer warriors, you all deserve it.