Poem of the Month December

O Never Star Was Lost

O never star
was lost; here
we all aspire to heaven and there is heaven
above us.
If I stoop
into a dark tremendous sea of cloud,
it is but for a time; I press God's lamp
close to my breast; its splendor soon or late
will pierce the gloom. I shall emerge some day.

Robert Browning

This is one of my favorite poems about hope. After all, God never promised we would escape adversity when we decided to follow Jesus, yet he did say he would never leave or forsake us. For anyone who has faced a "dark, tremendous sea of cloud", you know how overwhelmed you can feel. Yet the hope in this poem is God's word, that "Lamp close to my breast". The words that will do their work, and yes, that "some day" will come.

Jesus loves the little princesses, horses, postal workers, etc.

I try to always sing to my children as I tuck them in at night. At least until they are old enough to realize that God has not blessed me in this area. There are times already when Tim says, “Mom, please stop singing.” But my Sarah and my boys still love it. Mark always requests “Jesus loves the little children”. This simple song has morphed into quite the monster at our house. We have come up with various new verses to this song including: “Jesus loves the big grown –ups” and “Jesus loves the little Indians”. There’s also the ever popular “Jesus loves the little butterflies”, and who can forget the classic, “Jesus loves the little tractors.” I think they figure if I can sing 100 verses of “Jesus loves all the troops”, then it puts off their bedtime. I am happy to say that the CD is NOT available.

Ginger Morning Star Bettis

My sister had a baby

Little Ginger Morning Star Bettis was born on November 24, 2007 at 7:30 am in Bellingham, WA. She weighed in at 8 lbs, 11 oz, and was 19 inches long. I am told she has red hair, just like her eight year old sister, Willow. I will post a picture when I see one.

My little helicopters

After bath-time, I always snuggle up the boys in their towels and call them my little "helicopters". (It used to be caterpillar -see an earlier post on that one). Well, Mark wanted to be my "liddle airplane, Mama!" Then it was Lucas' turn. Not to be outdone by his brother, he announced he was my "liddle airport, Mama!" Airport? He kept grinning. So then I had to make those imaginary planes land on him..the tickling kind. Now, after every bath, I have two little airports!

Sleepy lunch

This is my Mark, tired out after a busy morning.

It’s nice to have honest children. We’ve always tried to not punish them for telling the truth. Something about, “Did you hit your brother?” If they say Yes, and receive punishment, then aren’t we teaching them to say “No.”, in effect, teaching them that to lie keeps them out of trouble?
So, here’s the story. Mark and Luke are upstairs, playing nicely, and I am downstairs. Nothing ever happens unless you attempt to answer the phone. Especially if it’s someone you’ve never met before. The screaming started almost as soon as I said “Hello.”
Then I heard the fwoop, fwoop, of a little bottom coming down the stairs and the crying gaining momentum. I could tell it was a hurt cry, so I ended the call and opened the stair door. Mark was three steps from the bottom, crying, blood running down his cheek. Luke was close behind, uninjured. I whisked Mark to the bathroom, and cleaned and applied pressure, wondering about stitches. The crying subsided and I asked what happened. Mark wails out, “Brother hit me with car!” Luke, who is sitting on the stool watching everything, echoes, “I hit his cheek with car.” Mark wails out again, “He say sorry!” and Luke again echoes, “I say sorry.” This makes me smile. “Did you forgive brother?” “I forgive Luke,” he says. “He forgive me,” says the echo. I emphasize that we don’t hit. “yes, mom,” they both respond. Bleeding has slowed, bandaids have been applied, Tylenol given, prayers prayed, kisses and hugs, and all is well. “I go play now?” asks Mark. “Play now?” says the echo. “Yes, “ and off they go. Resilent little critters, and thankfully, honest.

While trying to console Mark over his cookie breaking in half. I joyfully pointed out he now had TWO cookies. As I poured a cup of coffee, I heard, 6..7..8..9.. 10 cookies! Sure enough, he had 10 cookie bits! Six of which were no longer on the table.

Sleepyheads

These are my almost three year old twin boys! Exhausted after going to the library, they crashed on the drive home. I carried them in from the van and laid them on the couch. They are now toe-to-toe. They are growing older and getting longer. I can't believe they take up the whole couch already! My babies are boys!

Poetry

I love to read poetry. It gives language a succinctness that leads directly to the crux of the issue being discussed and hence, states the point. It does this concisely while avoiding the trappings of wordiness I find myself plagued with occasionally. J


The Prayer for Being Edited by Karen Burton Mains

Lord,
Edit me.
Correct me when my words are faulty.
Revise my thoughts.
Polish the rough passages of my being.

Submit me to a review panel who can judge
My strengths and weaknesses.
Correct the internal rhythm
So that the outward meter will be whole.
I want to be a work of art, Lord, a classic of some kind.

Give me form,
Fill me with the beauty of yourself.
Help those who read my life to see
That you are the workman;
I am the workmanship;
And out of me you are creating a work of art.
Amen.

Tim turned six on September 28, 2007

These are Tim's self-portraits taken shortly after his 6th. birthday.

Reflections on Psalm 26

I read Psalm 26 this morning and thought of people I’ve talked to who sometimes feel that they don’t deserve the grace of God. God’s grace is available to all of us, praise God!

Sometimes it’s hard for someone like me to see God’s grace and appreciate it. It’s something I have always had. I have never been to a high school party or college party. No one has EVER offered me drinks or cigarettes or drugs. People just knew better. I got called Sister Christian a few times, but people knew. I always walked in integrity. (Yeah, I messed up, but for the most part, I was fine.) My friends were after me if I skipped chapel in college! I led a pretty protected life. I still do.

So I read in this psalm this morning how David says, “I am walking in integrity, vindicate me.” And later he says, “I am walking in integrity, redeem me and be gracious to me.” Even though he was walking in integrity, he acknowledged his NEED for redemption and grace. The “walk” was not the point. The walk is never the point, it’s the grace.

This struck a chord with me this morning. My hardest struggle in life was when we dealt with infertility. I know some of you have been down that road, where you just desire a child and nothing is happening. We got angry at God. We had always done the right thing…shouldn’t he bless us? This attitude was dead wrong and we learned so much about trust, and grace. (We were the older brother in the prodigal son story). We may be “walking in integrity” but we still have to humble ourselves and acknowledge the NEED for redemption and grace. What a difference that acknowledgement makes.

I think some people have a greater appreciation for God’s grace than me just because of all they’ve experienced. (like the younger son in the prodigal son story) I see God at work in other people, in their love for their kids, in their prayer requests for family and co-workers, in their sensitive spirits, in their humility and I am blessed for it!

As followers of Christ, we each have a story, a story whose focal point is our response to the grace and redemption of Christ’s sacrifice for us. It’s encouraging to be encouraged by other people’s experiences walking with God. So, keep walking and keep sharing your stories and thanks again for all of you who provide encouragement for me. Keep it coming!

Things Kids Say 2

Mark's response to being outside in the dark, "It's dark ON ME!" "Yes, I suppose it is." "It's dark on you, too, Mama."

After bathtime, I wrap Lucas in a towel and hug him close and tell him he's my little caterpillar. I have always done this with all my kids. Last time, I hugged him close and he said, "helicopter, mama, helicopter." I started listening intently, marveling that he could hear it in the bathroom before me. He began to become distraught, "mama, I your liddle helicopter!" Ohhh... So I scooped him up again and called him my little "helicopter".

Timothy this morning, "I declare my breakfast is over!" he stated as he stood up to take care of his things. Then he tilted his head and looked at me, "Mama, what does declare mean?"

Sarah, "Mama, can you be my big sister?"

Just Another Manic Monday

It’s Monday morning and I need to put the trash out by the road for pick-up. Oh, but first, a cup of coffee. Get coffee made. Mark is up, crying for mom. Hug and cuddle him, read a book, read two, read three. “Want o’s!” “say please”. “PLEASE want o’s!” Get o’s for mark. Find coffee cup on counter. A little cold. I put it in microwave. I see the trash can, oh, I have to get that out. Luke is awake, asking for mama. I cuddle him, and give him o’s.

Where’s my coffee? Uh-oh, mark spills, go to the pantry for papertowel, put towels in dryer, why am I in here? “I pill Mama! Towel please!” Grab papertowel. Luke has gotten into the grapes (Did I wash those yet? I hope so.) Mark “helps” and dumps rest of o’s and milk on floor. “oops mama!” I got it. Sweep up the grapes. Dump in trash, oh, I have to get trash to the road. I hear “no no no, mama!” Where is mark? Wasn’t he eating grapes? Oh, that’s luke, he’s still eating grapes. Mark is upstairs, waking up Tim. It doesn’t sound good, so I race upstairs, and remove Mark. “Help cars, mom.” We start to pick up the matchbox cars in the hallway. Something doesn’t smell right. I investigate. Someone used the little potty in the night, so I bring that downstairs to empty it. Get that done. I get out the crock pot for dinner and start that. Oh, the trash.. “Mama, I go potty, please come.” O.k., help Lukey go potty. Start to put away bath toys from last night. “mama! I stuck!” I race upstairs. Mark has his pajama shirt on like a backpack. I help him, and turn off fans and quick make Sarah’s bed for her. Wait, where is Sarah? She must be sleeping in my bed. I go to the hallway and trip on the matchbox cars. Ouch, didn’t we pick those up?

Where is my coffee? Back downstairs. Dishwasher is open and I start unloading. I vaguely wonder who opened it and where is the silverware? What time is it? Oh, yikes. We gotta get busy. Don’t forget the trash. Start to clean up boys’ breakfast stuff. Find grapes in the cookie jar, mashed against the inside…how do they do that? Mark is crying. “brother won’t share,” I take the time to point out the mutual benefits and fun involved in taking turns and sharing. I explain the negative consequences of their failure to share. I will OWN the toy. Ok. Tim is awake and eating. Where is Sarah? Oh, that’s right. I send Luke to wake her up.

Where is my coffee? Tim is calling me from upstairs. “coming” Up I go. Sarah is awake, a little bleary, but awake. Tim wants to play marbles in my room, without Luke. Luke is not happy. I carefully explain that given his age and level of responsibility, marbles is not the best option for him. I remove him from the situation and decide to get him dressed. Mark is in the bedroom. He has dumped out the blocks and is carefully attempting to throw them into the trash can, which is on the dresser, out of reach. I politely ask him to stop and state he is going to get dressed now. I notice many of the blocks are missing. As I open the dresser drawer to get clothing, I hear about 243 blocks fall behind the dresser. Hmm… guess we won’t be playing with those for awhile. I get Mark dressed but I have lost Lucas. I take his clothes with me downstairs. I find the silverware in a nice pile at the bottom of the steps. Nice. I pick that up. I vow to at least rinse them off…later.

I vaguely remember my coffee. Lucas, no longer sad about the marbles, has found new interests. The kitchen floor is covered with o’s. (I thought I put those away). I broom those up, realizing I am now using ‘broom’ as a verb due to the twosome’s influence. I let Lucas have a turn to “broom”. Sarah has wandered down and is insisting on her breakfast and her bathrobe. She starts crying because o’s are stuck to the bottom of her feet. The day continues…

Mark is looking out the window…”Truck, mama, big truck”. Yes, truck, I vaguely reply..as I try to read some important insurance papers..”Trash truck..” Yes, trash-TRASH? I bolt out the door barefoot and drag the trash down as fast as I can, waving like a mad woman. Oh, good, he’s waving back. He saw me. Whew! Made it.

I go inside and realize I am still in my bathrobe. I have not brushed my hair. Where are my insurance papers? I begin to search, but not for the papers, I want the coffee.

Things Kids Say

Mark says “I have belly ache, Pray it, Mama, pray it!”

Sarah woke up with a stuffy nose, “Mama, I have the blessyous.” “The blessyous?” “Yeah, I keep sneezing.” Oh, the Bless You’s!

Tim wants to know why I am on the left side of the car on the way to the library AND on the way home. Since we are traveling West instead of East, shouldn’t I be on the left ONLY on the way to the library? I tried explaining why compass directions are constants, and right/left stay with you, but I ended up with turning left with my west hand, and instructed him to talk to his Dad about it.

Luke wanted to help cut up the apples as he watched from a chair. “This is a black-handled knife. It’s only for grown-ups.” I said this in my best this-is-serious voice and he seemed to be listening intently. However, as I set the knife down, he reached for it. Our eyes met over the counter, and he stated very sincerely, “I a grown-up.” I don't think so.

Making Rain

At first the bird feeder was in the front yard and no birds came. Ryan moved it to the backyard while I was visiting my mom and dad with the kids. When we arrived home, there were birds. We saw and heard Chickadees! That was the first day. The backyard is within the territory of the twins. They had to be taught not to shake the birdfeeder. "Mama, I make it rain!" Sigh...no birds... however, we did see this furry squirrel helping himself. We don't know how he got in there, but when he jumped out, he made quite a mess. "Mama, twirl make rain!" yes, the squirrel made it rain.

Beware the Blue Footprint

In early September we journeyed to Blandford Nature Center in Grand Rapids. Did you know they help take care of injured wildlife? We saw several recovering owls, rabbits, and some turtles. They also have a bobcat there. We also decided to hike a trail. The boys are getting older so we left the stroller in the car. Tim wanted the “green” footprint but Ryan talked him into the “blue” footprint. Important note: One should always read the name of the trail or check the map. Well, after following blue footprints for what seemed like miles, we learned the name of our trail was “the back forty”. Three out of the four children wanted to be carried, one had to go potty, and one kept tripping on the roots. Four mosquito bites, three root falls, and one rustic potty break later, I was wondering if we were on a never ending loop. When things started to look familiar again and we looked at the map, we realized we had taken their longest trail, over a mile! Then we were all proud of ourselves. By the way, remember the “green” footprint Tim wanted? I call it “short, but scenic”.

Upon our return from the nature center, my older two children began requesting unique items to bring outside. Finally, they showed me their “habitat”s. There was a granola bar wrapper on the top of the fence because “Raccoons love garbage, and they can climb.” There was also a cardboard box with cheese in it and grass. “That’s the mouse habitat, Mom, they like cheese and grass.” I was still trying to figure what he had climbed to affix the wrapper to the top of the fence. I had a conference with Ryan and I am pleased to announce that the Westphal family is now the proud owner of a bird habitat. Well, a bird feeder anyway. So far, no birds.

Potty-training Tidbit

Ah, fall. An entirely new season. September, a time for new beginnings. Summer was great this year. Two twin-year-olds successfully potty-trained, despite a rough beginning. (August 2007 Lucas sits on the potty, playing with potty-toys with one hand and insisting mommy holds the other. Suddenly, the unexpected. He goes potty! Much praise from Mama. Hand-clapping and hugs. Lucas is all smiles. He stands up and admires his work. Then he sits back down, grabs my hand, smiles like a movie star, and says, “Do it again, Mama!” hoooboyy….)

Holli and Jesse are having a baby

My sister, Holli, is pregant with baby #3. In these July pictures, she is only four months pregnant. Her due date is in December. Check back in December for a baby announcement. Her one ultrasound has confirmed that she is not having twins. Please pray for a safe delivery and a healthy baby. To see a slide show of the pool party. Click to play Then back arrow to return to blog.

Potty training…hmm… two words that strike fear into the hearts of parents of toddlers everywhere. Not me. I exuded confidence. I was in control. I had a plan, a schedule and stuck to it. I trained a 22 month old boy while nursing a two month old infant all on my own in less than 2 days! Pat me on the back. Call me SUPERMOM. I got this thing down….that was then….2003…what a year…

Have you noticed that just when you think you got it all together, something happens to remind you that God is REALLY in charge, and you aren’t? I’m talkin’ super-humility… Twins have done that to me in so many, many ways. I think God is just smiling as I learn one thing after another…

God is the only reason my twins are learning because without Him, I am truly nothing. I turn to him on a daily, hourly, minutely (is that even a word?), basis for, yes, I can admit it, help! Save me from my enemies: my own reactive anger that swells up inside. Those puddles on the floor, carpet, rug, bed, toys, books, pillow, toys, etc.. The Nothing-else-is-getting-accomplished feeling, the self-doubt, the interruptions, the saying “No” 16,000 times a day, the saying “Wait” 32, 000 times a day.

I am really not a very good mom. What I mean is, I am being a good mom, but it is only through God’s grace, and not my own. I don’t want my kids to think, Sheesh! My mom’s got it all together, or Yikes, my mom is a basket case. Although most days I fall somewhere between those two. Alright, so I lean toward basketcase (those who know me well know exactly what I mean).

I want my children to think, yeah, mom was never perfect, but I can say that she loved Jesus. How do I communicate that to those four little minds? That ones that watch my imitation of the Muppets svedish chef while I am cooking and crack up. Those little eyes that watch me yell in frustration at the boys. Those hands that reach for one more book, hug, game. The ones I serve three meals a day. The little legs who run on trips to the zoo, gardens, doctors’ office, parks, libraries, etc.

But it’s really not about me or how I communicate it. Yes, they have seen me pray, and yes, they have seen me apologize and they’ve even extended their forgiveness. Mostly, I think they just have to see me love Jesus every day. This does not translate into - ”everybody go play while I read my bible chapter and drink my coffee”. This is more than that. This is my attitude toward the people we meet. The “friends” they make at the park, and the videos I say “no” to because it’s mommy’s God-given job to protect them. It’s my answer to the guy at the YMCA who asks, “How are you so patient with your kids?” and how that answer points to Jesus, and not me, or some parenting guru or book. It’s my pleasure in serving that communicates Jesus’ love. It’s not my complaining about having to clean the bathroom, AGAIN!

So when you pray for me, pray for less of me and more of JESUS!

SWING PARTS

Hardware is not my strongpoint. I can name all eight parts of speech, tell you if a verb is irregular, edit your resume, and even crochet baby booties in less than two hours, but hardware….

I decided to buy a kids’ swing to replace the baby swing on our swingset. The twins have outgrown it and like the other swings better. Even though having three kids swings and four children provides endless, endless opportunities to teach sharing and waiting your turn, and how weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth will not get you a turn quicker, and no, you may not pull your brother off the swing, and please, slow down, you are going to hit …yeah..

Ah, yes, the hardware store. I did my homework. I called hardware stores. I asked about price, location, size of package, where on the shelf can I find that? Is it labeled? Is it in a plastic bag or a box? Is it at eye-level? What does it weigh? Etc… I found the swing, at a good price. I drove to the store. I remembered to bring the children. They even had a big-kid cart. We live for those things. We bought the swing, we even asked for help on which hooks to buy. We were all set. I was confident, supremely confident that I could put up this swing, no problemo…

We went home. I finally got the right chains in the right place and it only took 45 minutes, with a little help from Tim, who pointed out the seat had to be connected to the chain using a connector piece. However, as I proudly prepared to attach the swing, with four sets of eyes excitedly watching, I realized my connector piece-thingies were NOT going to fit. The swing would not hang. It just laid on the ground and we all stared at it. Ah, well, back to the store we went.

We now have four swings hanging in the back yard. Next time, I will turn to my handy hubby and say, “Hey, do you know how to install a big kid swing out there?” (Not that there is a need for next time, but hey, maybe all you hardware-handicapees can learn from my mistakes.)

When Science Comes to You III - The Frog

My sister and her family are here from Washington. My nieces, Willow (7) and Meadow (4) are creative, fun, active children and my kids have really enjoyed playing with their cousins while they are here. We went up to my Mom and Dad's for three days. It was while we were leaving that we met the frog.
Willow caught it by the pond. Just a little green frog. My little Sarah actually held it for a moment, but Tim did not want it anywhere near him. Marcus touched it and laughed, but Luke did not have a chance to see it as he was already loaded in the van. As Tim is getting in the van, he suddenly remembers Grandma said he could pick green beans before he leaves. Being the ever-gracious mom that I am, I agree, if he hurries. I leave Luke, Mark, and Sarah in the van and head to the back of the house to see the green beans with Tim and Willow and Holli.
One child is unaccounted for. This is the child who is holding the frog. This is Meadow, who in her kindness, wants Lucas to also see the frog. Since Lucas is buckled into his carseat and cannot come to the frog, Meadow brings the frog to him. How considerate. However, frogs are not meant to be held by children.
As I round the corner with Tim for the van, Meadow and Sarah are rushing toward me with the news. "There's a frog in the van!" Sure enough, I see him under the seat. However, I side with Tim and I am rather squeamish about actually touching an amphibian, so I opt for Meadow to catch it. She misses. We find the frog again and Aunt Holli tries. She misses. At first, Tim refuses to even get in the van with the frog hiding in there because he is scared. Finally we are all headed down the driveway. Tim is asleep in about 10 minutes. All is quiet on the way home.
The next day, I clean out the van. Children surround me, helping carry things to the porch. I hear their sweet voices. I hear Mark, "Frog, Mama, frog. Go frog." I turn to see him holding a much thinner frog than I remembered, thinner and stiff and wrinkled. He drops the frog and tells it "go frog." Then he picks it up and hands it to me.
I actually touch the dead frog. I announce that we have found the frog and we all look at the dead frog and talk about what sort of habitat frogs need and why we should not bring them anywhere far from their habitat. Tim notes that if people don't touch them, they will stay where they belong. We throw the frog away and wash hands, even the children who didn't touch the frog wash hands. I wash mine twice.

The Adventures of Mat man, continued...

As dictated to Mommy today:

"Mat man and the ice"
Mat man had ice. The ice flies. He hits the ice and the ice pokes him. Ouch! "I'm going to save the day again." says mat man.
The end.

"Mat man and the lion"
Mat man sees a lion. The lion tries to get him. Mat man hits the lion, and is goes soaring up into space. Then it falls back down on mat man's face. The lion thinks he is saved. Then mat man flies and sends him into space, where he floats around."
The End

Of course, I have to read these with the appropriate super hero voice and actions until we are all laughing. Maybe I have spent too much time watching "my hero" on PBS, better known as Thermoman. Yikes.

Mat man

Tim is learning to read. He can sound out three letter words and we've started the McGuffey readers, "Nat can fan Ann." hmm.. the story content is not that exciting. So we've invented, "The Adventures of Mat man!" He is a winged superhero who wears a mat instead of a cape. We have made up many adventures of Mat man. Here is the version Tim can read.
Mat man has bad man.
Bad man runs.
Mat man runs.
Mat man flings mat.
Mat hits bad man.
Mat man wins.

After Tim has successfully read his version, I am instructed to re-read it with appropriate sound effects, like mat man having a hard time running because a mat is much heavier than a cape, not to mention the herculean effort in flinging the mat after the criminal. Hey, it makes Tim laugh and keeps him interested in mat man, I mean reading. Look out for more adventures of. . . the Mighty Mat Man!!

Adventures of the Gruesome

I opened the boys door after "rest time" to find this scene. The closet contents had been spilled into the room, with the exception of the totes, which are too heavy to lift. But I couldn't find the boys. Heart in my throat, I scanned the empty bed and started to look for legs under the pile.

That's when I spied the "gruesome". Sound asleep in the closet, on top of the immovable totes. Although immovable, they had been conquered.

When Science comes to you II

This week we found two kittens wandering the back yard (and a pet carrier near my neighbor's porch). We took them in and the kids had great fun playing with the kittens for the day. This was the same day my sister, Holli, and her family arrived from Washington state. Her girls were also excited to see and play with the kittens. I did have to "gate" the kitties in the laundry room for their own protection. "The gruesome" tended to hug them too hard or play tug'o'war with them. Timothy took lots of pictures as he will miss the kittens.

We had the opportunity to talk about how kittens grow and how to handle them gently, etc. Sarah --"Look how tiny God made their paws!" Tim -- "and He gave them claws for protection." My neighbor has a real heart for animals and thinks someone left them so she could find homes for them. So when she arrived from work, she came and took them home. (Whew! I was getting nervous as timsarah were coming up with names!) Later that night when we let poor Lenny (our own cat) out of his exile, Tim exclaimed, "Wow, Lenny is HUGE!" I wonder what will happen next week.

When Science comes to you

We had an interesting science opportunity when we opened the door this morning to find a fully moulted cicada clinging to the door frame and still attached to its previous skin. To see a 28 second speeded up version of this amazing metamorphosis, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go4MqVq9HVM .

The Gruesome

“The Adventures of the gruesome two-some” -- it occurs to me that this is not the most encouraging label for the boys.
FOURTH OF JULY
Ryan took Tim and Sarah to the flag-raising early this morning at the park. As I was saying goodbye outside, he looked up to the boys’ window, “Uh-oh,” he intoned, “the gruesome are awake”. Sure enough, two little faces peered down from the window. They were happy to see Mommy but they were more interested in “Daddy go?” and “Timsarah”. Thankfully they LOVE their breakfast, and were soon their happy selves again.

Summer Mental Images

Summer is for remembering.

Summer is my favorite season, and I don’t always have the camera. I take mental pictures all summer long. Is it strange to have others pose for them? On a recent date-night outing to Holland, I had my friend pose near a statue of Ben Franklin for my mental album. It was a really cute picture. I also posed while she took a mental picture of Ben and me. Maybe the strange part is talking your friends into taking mental pictures.