Getting Desperate

Our adjustment to living in a foreign capital city has been the biggest life transition I've ever consciously faced.

It's true.  The "before/after" contrast has been more radical for me than moving from "single" to "married" or even from "married" to "new parent"!  Getting married was exciting and I remember having pre-wedding jitters, but it was a natural, normal progression.  And I entered motherhood, another normal progression in life, with a healthy amount of confidence to see me through the late night crying jags. 

But a radical life style change from quiet, conservative, small town USA to large, noisy, foreign "ciudad" has been a test of how flexible I really am. The challenges here in Uruguay are unceasing, daily, and drive me to prayer like never before.

"Do you like living here?" my friends ask me.  That's a loaded question.  God uses trials like a refining fire, to test and transform us, to grow us.  I'm very thankful for that. But do we have to "like" the fire?

Two years ago, in the classroom at MTI, the professor told us something about cultural transition that I didn't believe would ever happen to me.  He said, "You will think you're doing just fine, adapting, learning the language, making adjustments. You'll like living there. And then something will happen that seems so contrary to everything you know and believe is "normal" and "right," that you'll just snap."

This charismatic, friendly, sensitive, Godly missionary then related a personal story of how he had been stuck in a ridiculous, completely unnecessary traffic jam at an intersection in an African city.  He actually got out of his car and unabashedly yelled at one of the police officers "directing" traffic.  "Huh!" I thought, "I would never do anything like that,"  I just wouldn't.

In language school in Costa Rica we had a classmate who regularly constructed Spanish sentences about poisoning the sick dogs who, penned up outside the vet's office across the street from our apartment complex, barked, yapped, and whined, sometimes squealing in pain like pigs, all night, and all day long.  We had been dealing with the stress, too, and I understood that he had intentionally put the words "dog" and "blender" in the same sentence, even thought the teacher gently tried to correct him. 

Another classmate reacted to the incessant cultural stress he was experiencing by ripping out a small tree growing in front of the apartments.  I was too good at cultural transition, I thought, to ever do anything that crazy.

It just took a little longer for me.  Because on Tuesday, after living in Uruguay for a year, I got desperate.  We were trying to follow all the rules and procedures, we even hired someone who knows the immigration system to make sure we submitted our paperwork properly, but we were denied permission to renew our Uruguayan Cedulas that expire tomorrow. 

The process I tried to follow correctly:

First, pay at a bank for the appointment to get new cedulas.  People have to pay in advance for the new cedulas - that way they are motivated to show up for the appointment for photos and fingerprints!  We were also warned by everyone not to let the cedulas expire, because getting new ones would be nearly impossible. I made the appointment for Wednesday morning.

Second, get documents from Migrations to show that your paperwork is being processed.  That should be easy, I thought, because they've been processing the paperwork since June.

So we went to Migrations.  After waiting three hours in line for the appointment, the woman behind the desk told us we could not renew our cedulas because our paperwork was not submitted correctly.  I asked her what we were missing.  She told us we needed "Constancias de domicilio" (an item on the list that our lawyer had specifically told us we didn't need).  She said to bring the Constancias that afternoon and take another number. 

So, we asked two of our neighbors to go with us to the police station (when? Right now, please!), and be our two witnesses that we did indeed live next to them.  They were so kind to go with us even though they were in the middle of a home improvement project with workers going in and out of their house.  They reminded us that we should bring a water bill with Mark's name on it to help prove where we live.

After running to the police station with our nice neighbors, we called the high school and elementary school and arranged for Sabrina to pick up the younger kids and bring them home on the bus.

Then we went back to Migrations and picked another number and waited.  I prayed that God would work everything out smoothly, and not choose that moment to teach me humility.  That morning I had read, "Del mismo modo, ustedes hombres más jóvenes tienen que aceptar la autoridad de los ancianos. Y todos sírvanse unos a otros con humilidad, porque Dios se opone a los orgullosos pero muestra su favor a los humildes." I Pedro 5:5 

I had been convicted that here in Uruguay, I probably appear as if my ways are superior instead of humbly serving others and graciously accepting new ways of doing things.  I know that at times I have a "my American way is better, but I'll do it your way if I must" kind of attitude.

Reflecting on humility made me think about Abraham.  He was rich and powerful, and yet he risked his own life and the life of his faithful servants to go and rescue Lot who had been kidnapped and robbed by a thieving group of kings.  "That was a humble and kind thing to do," I thought.  He didn't have to do it, but graciously he did.

After an hour of waiting, our number "75" showed up on the screen, and Mark and I went up to the desk with the Constancias, but she told us it was the wrong "75".  She explained: All the numbers for her department had been used up.  I had mistakenly pulled the number for another line in another department.

In that moment we learned that they only give out 100 numbers a day, and there weren't any left. They had been used up that morning.  I said, "But, you told me to come back with the papers this afternoon....." 

That's when I got upset.  I wasn't gracious or humble at that moment. I talked to a lady at the front desk.  She talked with the people in the department to ask what was going on.  Nothing changed.  Then the nice front desk lady told me I could knock on a door and see if anyone in there would help me. 

So, boldly and desperately, I knocked.  But the lady behind the door said, "No, you have to talk to the same person you talked with this morning." I said, "But we have an appointment to renew our cedulas tomorrow morning.  I need the paperwork."  "No."  "Sorry."  "No more numbers."

"I guess God chose today to teach me more about humility" I quietly fumed.  My desperation was internal, and the stress tightened my back and shoulders and stole my appetite.  I made the easiest thing possible for dinner, pizza bread, and went to bed without eating.

I don't remember where I read it, but a quote I had read in Spanish that week came to my mind, "El éxito es aprender a ir de fracaso en fracaso sin desesperarse." Winston Churchill.  (Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm). 

Early the next morning I waited outside, in the wind, in line for over an hour, to pick another number when the doors opened.  I got there early, but the line had started to form even earlier, and I knew we weren't going to get a low number.  Many of the people waiting are just holding a spot to get a number for someone else, or they're immigration lawyers who get paid to wait for their clients. Mark met me outside after dropping off the kids and finding parking for the car.  We got "23" and "24."

The appointment to make the new cedulas (that we had paid in advance for) was at 10:10, so we hoped that we could turn in the Constancias, get the documents to say that they were processing everything, and then renew our cedulas.  But, the numbers passed slowly and it was 10:20 when we finally spoke to someone.  After taking the Constancias, the woman told us that since we are here for "religious purposes" we are only eligible for temporary residency, and we would have to wait another month while they worked on the paperwork. 

She refused to give us any documents to show that our paperwork was in process so that we could renew our cedulas.  We would be left without any Uruguayan ID or visas or permits.  We can stay here legally while they're working on it, but we will have to resort to using our passport numbers again.  This really shocked me.  And disappointed me.

I never thought it would happen to me, but I snapped internally.  In that moment, I felt my love for Uruguay turn into a momentary but livid disgust.  I disliked everything Spanish.  The crowd of people in the room and all the cubicles went to gray, and tunnel vision forced me to grab Mark's hand. 

Thankfully, God had been preparing me for the moment, and my trust in His providence kept me from trying to regain control of the situation in a disrespectful way.  I just choked back the tears as we walked toward the door.  Our lawyer, who I had emailed a week ago, said she would try to find out what happened, but there's little she can do to change the situation. 

Being a foreign missionary is knowing how to go from one failure to another, trusting that God is in control of every situation, and will bless her faithfulness and humility in His time and in His way.

Today, I will head back downtown to handle more paperwork for Sabrina's education.  I have to finish it before the cedulas expire.  Please, God, no more lessons on humility. I need some time for the last lesson to sink in.

UPDATE: I waited in line for an hour, but once I got to the desk, the woman had Sabrina's paperwork stamped and ready to go! Regarding Visas, we are only eligible for 2 year residency with one possible renewal for another 2 years.  After that we will have to reapply for a longer stay and I may need to show income. We are praying for God's direction, and trust that He will provide solutions.

Heating Habits

Spring Break starts this week.  It’s my favorite time of year because the sun chases away the winter blues, and I can emerge from hibernation and soak in a patch of sunshine.  After surviving the coldest, dampest, moldiest, sickest winter of my life, I am more thankful than ever. 

I don’t think this winter flustered most of my Uruguayan friends.  They bundled themselves and their children like Eskimos.  Scarves, hats, coats, gloves, leg warmers, layers of shirts and sweaters, everything except ski goggles.  Our California kids resisted the bundling until it got really cold, and then they didn’t want to unbundle to get showers in the cold bathroom.  Although it rarely dipped below freezing, the arctic wind was merciless if one had to walk to the store or stand at a bus stop for more than 10 minutes.  

And the houses aren’t built for the cold.  Our kids’ rooms have very high ceilings so it was a challenge to heat them.  We tried rolling a propane heater in their rooms, one at a time, to warm them up a bit before bedtime, but a steady draft sucked out the heat out quickly.  And the humidity stayed behind, feeding the persistent mold on the ceilings and walls, and inside clothes closets.  Standing near a blazing hot parrilla outside with a leather mug of yerba is more than just a custom, it’s survival.

We tried to responsibly and economically heat our home during the day, only heating the bathroom and the kitchen.  But we didn’t want to leave the propane heaters running through the night.  Even with our preoccupation with keeping everyone away from the flames, our puppy’s tail caught on fire twice.  She wasn’t hurt, but burnt fur smells really bad!

The same was true about electric heaters.  We’ve already had two minor electrical fires.  A fan motor started smoking, and the water heater caught on fire when a friend was in the shower.  Thankfully, she had time to get dressed and warn us about the smoldering, melting outlet.  Our bedroom is at the opposite end of the house from the children’s rooms, and I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing that there was an open flame and/or an unreliable electric appliance running. 

So, the kids slept under piles of blankets.  The unrelenting chill, combined with sharing stuffy air on public buses and in crowded classrooms, played with our immune systems.  So we all caught several viruses, too.  Our family has never been this sick.  Even Mark was sick.  The kids missed several days of school, and I had a few days in bed with the worst cough of my life.  Josh coughed through the whole winter, feverish on and off, but was never sick enough to miss basketball or soccer practice.

When one of the kid’s teachers chastised me on the phone for not encouraging enough extra penmanship practice at home, my voice got shaky, and I started to cry. 

We had been concentrating on developing new strategies to use limited and strangely different resources to provide food, transportation, warmth, shelter, and legal residence for our family.  And at the same time we were involved in church ministry, community outreach, and language learning. 

I was more than satisfied that our children had learned enough Spanish to make friends, be comfortable in a new school, and correctly complete their homework assignments.  Penmanship and pretty notebooks, in the Uruguayan primary grades, are more highly prized than an ability to reason well, but they were not at the top of our family’s priority list this winter. 

Quite often, there would be a string of days when I did not feel warm once.  I got chilled and stayed cold.  Washing dishes and hanging out laundry with numb fingers started to wear on me, and I was unmotivated to complete housework.  I just wasn’t functioning at 100%. 

And that feeling of wanting to do more in the church and community, but settling for 75% efficiency, pretty much sums up our first year here.  We needed to take time to adapt to a new climate and different standard of living.  We are determined to be better prepared for next winter.

God has never once given me more than He can handle.  His grace is sufficient for me.  And so I emerge from the winter cave into the Spring sunshine with thankfulness.

Pretty scarves

Hot cider, hot chocolate, coffee, mate

Dry, Falling Leaves that dance in the Arctic wind

Hot fires, hot meat

New visitors at church.  The church is being blessed by God and is growing

Warm friendships.  Our church family has been so kind to us.  We have received so much more from them than we have been able to give.

Christian school and kind, helpful classmates

The prayers and constant stream of letters from our church family in the U.S.

Young, bright Uruguayan Christians who are excited to be a part of what God is doing in their country

Birthday parties with no frills gift giving (no card or wrapping required!  No obligatory thank you notes!)

A fun anniversary night out with Mark

A car with enough seat belts for all of us.  This week we won’t have to double buckle or send half the family by bus.

Safety for Sabrina and Joshua as they use public transportation and are more independent in the city streets.

A playful puppy for the kids

Fresh bread, pasta, fruits and veggies

Lots of rain, budding trees and flowers, and a few scattered days of brilliant sunshine

Family Meeting, Plus Singing and Prayer

Recently I read a secular book about improving family life, searching for a few gems in regard to assigning chores and keeping a house running smoothly.  Instead, I came across the advice to hold a family meeting once a week.  It was recommended for toddlers as well as teens.

Since we usually eat breakfast and dinner together, we have time to discuss important family issues like, "Who keeps using my towel in the bathroom?" and "When do I get the cell phone you promised me?"  But having a meeting to make general announcements, bring up sensitive topics, and hear from each member of the family how things are going sounded like something we needed especially since the kids are tucked away at school for a large chunk of time each week.

We're now three months into the trial and it's been great. Each Sunday evening, I make popcorn or dump some cookies in a bowl and serve hot chocolate. We spend the first 30 minutes discussing family issues, and Mark or I jot down the kids' concerns. 

One of the issues was that party invitations kept getting lost in the shuffle of papers.  We agreed that a cork board in the kitchen would help us keep track of everything.  Each week at our meeting, Isaiah reminded us that we needed a cork board until I finally bought it and put it up on the wall.  Isaiah just tacked onto the board his two party invitations for this week.  Problem solved. 

Getting a dog was another frequently raised topic, and one night Julia gave us a presentation on different dog breeds and her recommendations for our family and house size.  We ended up with a mutt, some kind of yellow lab schnauzer mix, but everyone's happy.

Last week Mark and I discussed the concept of a missionary furlough so the kids understand that in a few years, they will need to leave our home in Uruguay and go back to the U.S.  They didn't say much, but that's O.K.

After the business meeting, we added two more vital components not mentioned in the self help book.  We sing hymns together, in English.  Thankfully we have two Trinity hymnals.  Singing familiar hymns keeps us feeling connected to our home church in CA, and also to the OPC denomination since the songs remind Mark and me of the many Orthodox Presbyterian churches we've been a part of since we were children.

And finally, the third part is prayer.  Sometimes we "pray for the person on our right" after sharing praises and petitions.  And sometimes we break up into pairs.  Isaiah and I were paired up tonight, and I smiled as he prayed that God would help me with the grocery shopping and picking up kids from school even though I hadn't mentioned those concerns.

Tonight, we invited a boy from the neighborhood to stay for the meeting.  During the business part, he told us about a volcano he was going to work on with his friends.  Then he sang the hymns with us, prayed with us, and is now making cookies in the kitchen with Mark and Julia. 

I just went into the kitchen to test the dough, and our neighbor chef gave me a strange, "are you kidding?" look as I put some in my mouth. "You can eat that?" he asked.  "Yes!!!! Try it!!!" I said. He hesitantly put a glob of snickerdoodle dough in his mouth.  The expression of pure delight on his face was priceless: "That's amazing!!!"  He had never seen or tasted cookie dough before.

Our prayer is that he and his family will also taste and see that the Lord is good, and that once they have tasted the gospel in Word and deed, they will follow Him faithfully.  This is our prayer for each one of our children as well, and I believe that our weekly family meeting, complete with popcorn, hot chocolate, and hymnals, will continue to be a sweet refuge under His wings.

A Few Books I've Read this Year

As I mentioned in a previous post, I routinely escape into English.  Thanks to the Cloud Library, I have a small selection of recent books to chose from and read without a charge.  The only catch is that when the book is due, it disappears from my ipod and goes to the next person who has reserved it.  So, a few of the following titles disappeared before I got to the end.  Thankfully, I had plenty of time to finish the fiction titles.  These are a few of the good ones that I can recommend.

Beyond Belief by Jenna Miscavige Hill
The author's experience growing up within the Scientology organization.  Although she has good reason to be vindictive after years of forced labor, she focused on sharing her story as factually as possible without sounding bitter or angry.  I enjoyed contrasting my own experiences of growing up in a Christian family and church with her experiences of growing up in a cult.  It's black and white.

The Extortionist by John Grisham
I was frustrated with both the protagonist and the author who created him after reading 7/8ths of the book.  But Grisham was simply leading up to a very satisfying conclusion.

Monday's Child by Linda Chaikin
Sabrina and I read and discussed this spy story for chicks.  The main character is a Christian who stays true to what she believes. I recommend this author for moms and teen girls!

The Expats by Chris Pavone
Not explicitly Christian and could be rated PG13 for some mature scenes. I am keeping it on my list because I shared so many similarities with the main character who moves overseas with her husband and children.  I appreciated the author's respect for marriage, but also his realistic characterization of a couple that start to become strangers to one another in the unrelenting stress of cross cultural living and mounting distrust.

Going Clear by Lawrence Wright
Non fiction on Scientology.  It had more "dirt" in it than the autobiography by Miscavige.  I skipped over some of the tedious descriptions of Hubbard's womanizing and the financial accounting of the cult's cruel business dealings.  The author proves his point that the organization should not enjoy the IRS status of "church." Scientology has sadly made its way to Uruguay, but thankfully I don't think many people here have noticed.

Strange Virtues. Ethics in a Multicultural World by Bernard T. Adeney-Risakotta  I'm in the middle of this one on my Kindle, but it's a great resource.  I know it won't disappear so I'm taking my time!

Cross Cultural Servanthood by Duane Elmer. A good summary of what Mark and I are doing right now.

I'd Like to Apologize to Every Teacher I Ever Had by Tony Danza
Tony Danza agrees to teach High School English for a year in a center city Phili school!  As a former English teacher, I was sure this would be as fun to read as the title.  I was wrong.  It was melodramatic. To be fair, it was humorous at times but no lol.  I may have been reading it during a particularly strenuous week, but it put me to sleep pretty fast every night, and it disappeared from my Cloud before I reached the end.

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain
A non fiction that kept me awake for hours!  If you're a teacher, parent, homeschooler, pastor, counselor.... you'll benefit from some of her insights.  She says a lot that you probably already know.  And she attributes too much to "nurture/nature" instead of the Creator. But she has a way of drawing out new questions and connections that are fresh and relate to the personal experiences of the reader.  I found myself thinking about my own childhood, my kids, my friends, my husband.  It was an amazing read.  At one point I drew my own connection to the way that the Church has been influenced by an extroverted culture.  And since I was reading it on my small ipod without headings, I was pleasantly surprised when I scrolled to the next page and found that the next chapter addressed the topic.  I read one of the vignettes to the kids at breakfast, and Julia said, "Mom, I'm like that, too...."  It's an amazing feeling to identify one's God given personality and realize it's a blessing to be unique.

What do You do all Day?

I knew exactly how to answer the question when I was homeschooling our four kids.  But now that I think about it, no one ever asked me!  It was understood that being a "teacher, mom, wife, part time charter school teacher, pastor's wife" was enough to fill up the hours in a week leaving a few remaining ones for sleep. 

But after quitting my dream jobs, (clarification: I'm still a wife & mom - I mean the other dream jobs of homeschool & charter school teacher), and enrolling all four kids in a "drop off" school as my youngest calls it, I got hit with the "What do you do all day?" question.  I was speechless.  "Are you still there?" came the voice on the other end of the line.

I'm a missionary, right?  That explains it all, right?  I guess if I lived in a more remote part of the world you would just assume I spent half the morning chasing a chicken to prepare it for dinner.  And then walking to the nearest well to pump water for the day would have required the other half of the morning.

So what do I do, anyways?  First, any of you who have helped start a church or business know that the amount of work required at the beginning is an endless freight train of work.  The activities that are scheduled each week at church are staffed by just a handful of people as one week chugs into the next: Bible Study, youth group, kid's club, church cleaning, evangelism, shopping for supplies, Sunday morning worship, Sunday School.  Because it's all in Spanish, we need even more concentrated preparation time.

But seriously, we need to eat and sleep, too.  So here's a typical Wednesday, from my perspective.  I included a sample of what Mark is doing, too, but didn't go into much detail.

6am alarm: Mark and I pray together


I make meat empanadas for lunch

6:15:  I turn on propane heaters in kitchen & dining room, electric one in bathroom
Mark wakes up the kids and makes breakfast
Feed puppy
Jeni gives bus money to kids, makes lunches, helps locate a missing uniform piece or school book, signs papers.

7am We all eat breakfast together and coordinate the kids' activities for the day.

7:30 Mark drives the four kids to school
Jeni locks up the garage and house, washes dishes, and starts a load of laundry.
9:00 shower; Mark & I plan trip to Rivera church / bus? 5 in car & Jeni takes bus?







A white load dries on the roof

 

9:45 Mark goes to church to meet w Pastor Mauricio - planning & praying.
Jeni hangs a load of laundry on the roof, walks to weekly fruit market

12:30 lunch

1:30 Jeni walks & takes bus to pick up two youngest from school.
Mark works on correspondence, pays bills by taking out cash and going to different locations, and then pays our US bills, prepares a Bible study & power point for Thursday night.

3:30 Jeni meets two oldest kids & friends at a bus stop to walk them to the house

4:30 Jeni walks to grocery store with a kid volunteer, carries home food for 3 meals.
Takes laundry off line.

5:30-6:30 Jeni meets with a Spanish tutor. 

7pm Make & eat dinner
A favorite meal: Milanesa (breaded chicken filets) with mayonnaise, rice, tomatoes and lettuce, Coke.





Isaiah checks out a new journal that Julia gave him

7:30 Mark leads family devotions.  Tonight he checks on the kids' progress in memorizing the Westminster Shorter Catechism

8pm homework help for kids
Mark listens to Spanish interviews on topics relevant to Uruguay and takes notes while I work on Sunday school planning.

10:30 Turn off heaters, say goodnight to any kids finally crawling into bed, put puppy in crate. I read a chapter of the Bible in Spanish and then lose myself in an English book until I get sleepy

11:00pm ¡Buenas Noches!

Welcome to the Jungle

It's true that South America has amazing expanses of tropical rainforests, mountains, and remote jungles.  But we live in a capital city dense with houses not trees, and delineated by narrow city streets instead of rivers.

The multi level cement houses are packed into each city block with mazes of gates, locked iron doors, and dark passageways connecting each living quarter.  Buses, taxis, cars, motorcycles, bicycles, and horse drawn carts share the road without defined lanes, flowing rapidly through main arteries of the city like lumber jostling its way down a river.  The rivers suddenly converge and dump this disturbing mix into traffic circles as chaotic as thundering waterfalls.  And Mark wonders why I don't like driving anymore.

To walk from the bus stop to the shoe store, I hold on tight to Julia and Isaiah's hands to run across the spokes of the traffic circle, guessing whether or not the taxis and cars will choose to fly in my direction out of the spinning center. Yes, this is a pedestrian crossing.

I take a breath as I stand on a divider in between two lanes, buses flying by in both directions, waiting for my chance to cross yet another lane.  I am Jane, standing on a lone rock in the middle of the waterfall, ready to swing to safety on a vine while holding onto my precious children. 

Later, I board a bus and hear the driver's choice of music playing, "Welcome to the jungle...."  How appropriate.

Rescued Puppies

Half frozen, half starved, the two little puppies huddled together in the bottom of a canvas bag at the bottom of a dumpster.  It's in the middle of winter here, and they wouldn't have lasted long.  Thankfully, they were strong enough to keep whimpering, because the owner of a local gym heard them when she threw out her garbage.  She fished them out, cleaned them up, and took them to the vet. Here in Montevideo, there is almost always a vet within walking distance.  The vet figured they were only 4.5 weeks old, too young to be away from their mother but old enough to survive if cared for.

I had just told my friend we were looking for a guard dog/pet and didn't mind if it wasn't a pure breed.  That night the owner of the gym posted this photo of the dogs she found, and my friend forwarded it to me. 

rescued puppies

Mark and I thought about it, prayed about it, and went to see the dogs.  They were in a cardboard box at the gym, behind the receptionist's desk, huddled in some "lost and found" sweaters and sweat pants. Josh was with us and said he wanted the black and brown one.  But when I called later to commit to adopting the puppy, the black and brown one had already been promised to someone else.  

But, the little golden one was adorable, too.  We didn't give the kids an answer to the obvious question, and while they were in school, Mark and I went to pick her up.  Then we went by the school to pick up the youngest two kids.  Julia and Isaiah climbed in the backseat and were so surprised and happy to find a puppy curled up in a box waiting for them.  These kiddos have had to leave behind so much, and at times look so sad when remembering someone or something "back in the states."  It gave me deep joy to see their excitement at loving this little lost pup.  I think sometimes they feel lost, too.

Flechita's first day in her new home

The last few weeks of deworming the dumpster puppy has been well worth all the laughs at her antics and "awww"s over her cuteness.  Puppies are fun.  And that's coming from a cat lover.

As a family, we came up with a list of names and then voted.  The name "Flecha," pronounced "flay-cha," Spanish for "arrow," garnered more votes than names like Zoe and Canela.  Flechita is mostly house trained now and is almost done with her vaccinations.  It's been a great opportunity to expand my Spanish vocabulary at the vet, too.   Tonight while I have been typing this post, Isaiah fell asleep on the floor in front of the heater with his puppy.