The Wonder of Christmas at the Clymers

Real candles burning on our tree

We celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve. That's when my wife Esther's family and others in Switzerland celebrate Christmas. That's when they celebrate Christmas in Mexico where we lived for three years. 

When our children, Marisa and Mattias were still at home, we would have a big meal Christmas Eve, attend a Christmas eve service, then return home to have a short program before opening gifts. We would light the real candles on the Christmas tree and until the candles burned down, we usually sang carols and read the Christmas story from Luke 2 in English, Spanish and German. Before we went to bed, we put the baby Jesus in the manger for the first time. We had learned this tradition from Mexican Christmas celebrations. Soon Adam and Erica were added to our family and we continued the tradition. 

Fontanini figurines worshiping the newborn

Then came grandchildren. It became more difficult to coordinate everything with little ones under foot. Esther decided to engage them in play with the manger scene at our house. Over the years she collected Fontanini figurines representing the various players in the Christmas story. She would read about each character that came along with the figurines. 

When our grandkids came over on other occasions, we would read stories to them, as all good grandparents are wont to do. They selected their own favorites from our vast collection of children's books. They discovered the "The Beginners Bible" and were fascinated about the stories in them, especially about Jesus. When Christmas rolled around last year (2021) Esther decided to have the Christmas story reenacted while we read each portion of the story from the children's Bible. 

Getting ready to move the figurines

Our granddaughters really got into the reenactment! They moved the figurines from one side of the living room to get to the manger scene, where they would place them in their appropriate spot. A new tradition was born! Now we need to find a similar children's Bible in German and Spanish!  

Merry Christmas 2022

Abuelito reading the stories with a granddaughter

Anticipation

Star ready to lead the Wise Men

Granddaughters sing carols around the tree

A Personal Journey with COVID 19

On December 14, 2022, I tested positive for COVID19. It has been exactly three years since news of this new potential pandemic began appearing out of China. At first, it seemed remote and far away, but then astonishing news about what was happening in Europe, especially Italy and Spain, began to take hold of our consciousness. The nightmarish scenes from those countries' hospitals touched our hearts and souls. 

My college friends and I at Carolina Beach.
Little did we know what awaited us the next 2.5 years.

It wasn't until March of 2021, when the reality of a pandemic hit those of us in the USA. I had a trip scheduled on March 11 to be with some college friends to Carolina Beach, North Carolina. By the middle of that visit, lockdowns were being recommended to mitigate the spread of this pernicious virus. I remember meeting with them at an open air restaurant on a pier, and looking around me with suspicion as to whom could be a carrier. 

I got home on Friday, March 13, arriving in the late afternoon. My daughter and daugher-in-law were there to pick up their daughters. For nearly two years, Esther and I had kept our granddaughters every Friday. That was the last Friday we would do so, at our children's insistence. They did not want to compromise the health of their elderly grandparents. 

Things pretty much shut down. I stayed at home, avoiding coffee shops that had been my main stay, and did a series of blog posts about Esther's and my courtship and marriage. Esther continued working to the end of the year, but with severe precautions. She had been traveling around to visit various clients on her job as health care aid, but the management of her company insisted that, because of her age, she should only visit a local retirement age. 

We were extremely cautious because of Esther's job, and our grandchildren. We had groceries and food delivered contact-free to our front door. Our granddaughter's first year birthday was celebrated outdoors while keeping a safe social distance. It wasn't the same. 

The disease kept creeping closer and closer. Siblings caught it, friends caught it, church members caught it and several died. It was no longer something happening "over there," or in the "big cities." It was all around us. 

During the summer of 2021, things began to ease up. Fewer and fewer people wore masks, but Esther and I kept wearing them faithfully. We got our first two shots in March of that year. I attended several family memorial services where I was one of very few people wearing a mask. People openly sang, something that had been proven to spread the virus more easily. None of these events proved to be a super spreader, and I came out unscathed. 

The year 2022 arrived and things continued to open up. Our church services no longer required masks, and our meetings were held in person rather than on Zoom. I continued to wear my mask, once again being one of very few people who did so. 

Family reunions began to happen again, and all of my siblings gathered for a three-day reunion. We enjoyed greatly our company. We all had to test negative before we agreed to meet. Esther and I went to a nephew's wedding, and for the first time in a public gathering, I decided not to wear a mask. It was a lovely gathering, but we were shocked to find out that my sister, mother of the groom, tested positive after the wedding, as did both the bride and the groom. I had been in close proximity to all of them, and how we escaped the virus is a mystery to me. I thought it was because we were vaccinated. 

We went to Switzerland during August to visit Esther's family. We had to postpone the trip because of the pandemic. Esther and I were surprised that few people, not even the crew members, wore masks on the trans-Atlantic flights. We did. The same was true after we arrived in Switzerland. We traveled by train, and in spite of the fact that they were packed, few people wore masks. We did. We know that we were exposed to the virus, because one of Esther's sisters came down with COVID right after we had been with her. We returned the US grateful that once again we had escaped the plague. 

Esther and I received both boosters to our original vaccinations, and then the bivalent one when it was available, and continued to wear a mask wherever we went. We had survived and hadn't become tired of wearing masks or become complacent. 

Now I'm sitting at home waiting out the dreaded disease. On Tuesday evening, my throat started to feel scratchy. Because several of my close family members had mild cases of COVID the week before, I thought I should take the test the next morning to be safe. Sure enough, it came back positive. The tests were beyond their effective date, so Esther went the pharmacy to get new ones. Same results. 

During Wednesday, I began to feel a lot like the flu I had earlier in the fall with one difference: I had a fever. I began to ache all over. I took tylenol to abate both the aches and the fever. I slept on recliner in the living room and wore a mask in the house around Esther. I was constantly tired and took frequent naps. On Thursday, by late afternoon I began to feel better. I stopped taking tylenol, and my fever was pretty much back to normal. On Friday, except for the tiredness, I felt pretty much back to normal. Today is Saturday, and it is pretty much like yesterday. The fever and the aches haven't returned, and in spite of Esther wanting to pamper me, I did my normal household chores. 

Because I was so careful, I can't imagine how I got the virus. I still have my sense of taste and smell. I am grateful that it wasn't worse. I am sure that if I hadn't received the shots I may have ended up in the hospital. Esther remains symptom free and tests negative. How can that be? She has been around more of the virus than I had been. Luck? Better immune system? Better Christian? Seems like who gets or does not get the virus is a crapshoot. You never know! 

I will have to miss two wonderful Christmas concerts, and the debut of my only grandson as the baby Jesus at church. My other four granddaughters will be in the Christmas pageant as well. Better missing those events then spending the time in a hospital.

Write, Don, Write!

As I was preparing for my two recently published books, "The Spacious Heart" and "Coming of Age in Honduras," I spent many hours in coffee shops during my morning hours, and in the Library at Eastern Mennonite University in the afternoon. I would do research in the library and write in the coffee shops. Many of my colleagues and former students would approach me in these areas and ask me what I am doing. "I'm writing," I would answer. 

 I never expected to be a writer. But after publishing four books (one in collaboration with my sister Sharon) to accolades from readers, eight articles in "The Mennonite" and three in the peer-reviewed "Presence, a Journal for Spiritual Directors" I got the sense that I must be a writer. All of the articles in "The Mennonite" were from incredible experiences I had while leading cross-cultural groups of EMU students to Guatemala and Mexico, and as a chaplain to Spanish-speaking people at the local hospital. Since I am retired, I haven't been blessed with such experiences. I am finding it difficult to be motivated by writing. 

Whenever I run into former colleagues or students at coffee shops nowadays, they invariably ask me if I am writing. I am embarrassed to say that I am not. I do not have any particular topic about which to write. 

Several months ago, through a recommendation from a friend, my wife Esther gifted me with a subscription to the program "Storyworth." It is a program that prompts me to write something about my life experiences each week. This is not writing for publication to a wider audience, but mostly for my friends and family.

This afternoon I was writing a chapter for Storyworth, and I became quite engrossed. Reflecting on my feelings, I realized the fact that I NEED to write for my mental health. Time stands still--I enter "kairos time" when I am writing. While reading is fun, as are other activities in which I've participated since my retirement, none are as fulfilling for me as writing. Many of my retired friends volunteer for many different worthy organizations, including renovating our church fellowship hall. I admire them, but for me, I have come to the conclusion that I've got to continue writing as a way to fulfill my calling as a retiree. 

None of my books have sold a lot of copies, but the joy I've received from writing them far exceeds any profits I might make. It doesn't hurt that publishing houses have thought my writing was worthy of printing. Indeed, I would like for more people to read what I write, not to earn money from it, but to sense that my ideas and writing are relevant. It is SO helpful to get feedback from my readers, no matter how few have read them. So if you have read something that I have written, and have something to share with me, please comment below. 

So, write, Don, write!

Enchanting Swiss Journal: Part 7: Genetically Related

Taken from the train, Rhine Falls near Schaffhausen

I received an email out of the blue from a woman in Switzerland who claimed to be a relative of mine. I had recently signed on with a website GedMatch which helps one with genealogical research. It was through this website that Marlise Wunderli of Schaffhausen, Switzerland contacted me.

Try as we may through various DNA websites, we could not find the connection. But she insisted that we were at least 4th cousins and was convinced that we had common relatives in Schleitheim, where she grew up. 

Marlise was invaluable to me in my genealogical research. I sent her a family tree

The Record from the State Archives of Zürich showing
my earliest ancestor, Thomas Klimmer, 5th name down

of the Klemmers (Clemmer, Clymer) that began in 1535 with the earliest ancestor of mine, my 9th great grandfather Thomas Klemmer. Because she had worked in the archives of Schafhausen, she was able to find the marriage records of the three earliest of my ancestors from the State Archives of Zürich, Switzerland. Unfortunately nothing was found for the next  ancestors, Valentine Klemmer, who immigrated to the USA in 1717. I have lost the trail of him after he left Switzerland and supposedly went to Germany before coming to the USA. 

Because we were traveling to Switzerland, I wanted  to meet up with her in person. Her dialect of German was difficult for me to understand, so she asked if she should speak with me in High German. I readily agreed, but I spoke the Bernese dialect with her. We were able to understand each other. 

Marker for the Anabaptist trail.

After a dinner at Restaurant Babental, high in the hills behind Schaffhausen, we journeyed on to Schleitheim where she had arranged a tour for us in a museum related to the Anabaptist Schleitheim Confession of 1550, 25 years after the beginning of the Anabaptist movement. On our journey from the restaurant to Schleitheim, we passed the "Täuferweg" (trail of the Anabaptists). Apparently they used this trail to find secluded places in the woods where they could worship in secret. 

Copy of the original Schleitheim Confession

The museum proved to be enlightening. We not only observed the original printed book of the confession, but also artifacts of Anabaptist history in the region. 

Despite the fact that we couldn't yet find how we were related, we agreed to keep in touch and continue the search for our relationship and my lost ancestor Valentine. 

My cousin Marlise Wunderli and me

Enchanting Swiss Journal: Part 6: All in the Family

 

Esther and her siblings 

“How long has it been since you last visited us?” was invariably the first question that we were asked when visiting Esther’s siblings and their spouses. That’s a lot of times to be asked since Esther has nine siblings and all are married. It had been five years. It was a longer period than usual, in their minds. “Why are you staying for such a short time?” was the question that followed. We had too little time to cram in all the family visits we wanted to make; let alone time to visit friends and do other things we like to do while in Switzerland. 

Sister Hanni and brother Fritz

Our “short” trip to Switzerland centered mostly on visiting family and friends. It was short because it was centered between important events on this side of the ocean. Because it was so short, and because Esther has so many siblings, we had to make the most of our time there. We ate 24 special meals (including 6 in restaurants) with family and friends. We met numerous times with others for coffee. Our schedule was so jam packed and intense, that it seemed like we were there more than our “short” visit. After our first week, I remarked to Esther that it seemed as if we were there a month already.

We got to see all of Esther’s siblings and spouses, and 21 of our 31 nieces and nephews, many of whom now have children. “Be fruitful and multiply” has been taken literally by the Reichenbach family! 

Yes, I confess that we were often exhausted, not only from jet lag, but also from constant travel and conversation. Yet, we are privileged to have so many resources to rely on during our visits. Few people who visit other countries have the same opportunities. We certainly didn’t go hungry! I particularly am privileged to delve deeply into the heart of another culture, learning valuable life lessons along the way.

Our stay in Switzerland was short but sweet. It was mostly all in the family. 

Informal Sunday afternoon family gathering

Brother Walter and wife Regina

Brother Fritz and wife Angela

Niece Solome, husband Reto and son

Sister Rosmarie and husband Rolf

Sister Elsbeth and husband Hans

Sister Lydia and husband Peter

Nephew Marco, wife Christa and son Vivian

Niece Tabea and daughters

Nieces Doris, Rahel and children

Niece Betina and children

Nephew Sandro and wife Fabia

Niece Manuela and her Godmother

Niece Jasmina

Nephew Patrick, wife Anja and children

Niece Doris, husband Timo and child

Niece Sabrina and husband Gabriel

Sister Ruth
and husband Andy

Niece Celine

Enchanting Swiss Journal: Part 5: Up the Rigi!

The day dawned bright and full of hope. Esther and I were to go on our first and only “touristy” trip of our stay in Switzerland! While our Swiss rail passes included all public transportation and ship travel on the beautiful lakes, it only included one mountain top experience: Mount Rigi! 

We have been to the top of many iconic mountains in Switzerland and viewed many others up close, but hadn’t yet experienced Mt. Rigi, near Lucerne. Esther sent out a call to her siblings and asked if any wanted to join us for the adventure. Four of her siblings and one spouse responded positively. 

Making our way by ship from Lucerne to Rigi

Coming from four different directions, we met at the train station in Bern where we travelled together to Lucerne. From there we boarded a ship that took us on an hour-long jaunt on the ice-blue alpine lake to the foot of Mt. Rigi. Every means of transportation we were on was crowded, but none so much as the ship. It was a huge ship, but all the seats on three levels were taken and the whole main deck was standing room only! Most of the passengers were tourists from around the world. Only a few Swiss natives, like my in-laws, were on board.

View of Lake Lucerne from the cog-rail train

It was only a short walk from the ship to the cog railway that took us on what seemed like a 90º slope up the side of the mountain. This is the oldest cog-wheeled train in Switzerland, built in 1871. The incline was so steep, that I couldn't imagine that there was enough space for cows, goats, and pasture land to feed them; not to speak of barns and sheds to house them. But there was.  

The top of Mount Rigi afforded breathtaking views on all sides. It seems to be a huge mountain island in the middle of several lakes: Lake Luzerne to the south and west, Lake Zug to the north and east. Naturally, as at all Swiss tourist spots, a restaurant sat in the middle of the peak luring hungry and weary travelers to its delicacies. 

One of the hiking trails at the top.

We wandered around several hiking trails at the top of the mountain taking in all the views and trying to capture their glory on film, a feat that proved to be nearly impossible. The grandeur visible from the mountaintop can only be properly experienced in person. 

By the time we reached the top, clouds had formed on the distant white-capped peaks. I could only vaguely distinguish the Eiger peak of the Bernese Oberland. 

Three of Esther's (in pink blouse) sisters who travelled with us

We succumbed to the lure of the restaurant and had lunch at the mountain-peak restaurant. They offered a cafeteria-style buffet line where you could choose from various offerings, mostly typical Swiss dishes. The restaurant was short on staff, similar to many service industry establishments we went to. The labor shortages are directly related to the years of COVID; much like in the USA. 

The trip back down the mountain and sailing across the lake weren't as crowded as going the other way. We had space to sit in the restaurant of the ship and drink a leisurely cup of coffee on the hour-long ship ride.

When we arrived back in Luzerne, my knees, still sore from the Sunday hike, had had enough. I was ready to sit on a train and go home. My co-travelers, however, wanted to see the iconic wooden bridge that criss-crosses a canal that runs through Luzerne from the lake to a river; just a few blocks from the train station. So I plodded on. By now it was quite hot, and the sun beat down on us as we made our way to the bridge.

The iconic Kapellebrücke in Lucerne

In order to have a totally extravagant day, it was agreed to have dessert along the canal with a view of the bridge (Kapellbrücke). It took quite a while until we found an open table, and again quite a while till we got and paid for our sundaes (ask me what a coup Bailey's is). We had to hoof it to make it to our train on time. 

We rode together on the train until we got back to Bern, then we said our goodbyes and went our different ways. Esther and I took the tram back to Worb, our home base, and faced another half-mile walk to get back to our host's home. I was exhausted but thrilled about the beauty of the day, the scenery and conversation. My pedometer had logged 11.5 miles for the day. 

Enchanting Swiss Journal: Part 4: Friends and Colleagues. A Return to Aarberg

Old City Wall of Aarberg

Immediately upon my retirement, Esther and I spent a year in Switzerland. We lived in Aarberg, a unique town with beautifully preserved downtown. Esther worked with a home health care agency while I worked on various speaking assignments. Needless to say, we made numerous friends during this year whom we wanted to visit. So we took a trip to our old Swiss stomping ground.

Since we left Aarberg around five years ago, a lot of changes have taken place. Between the apartment building and the next one behind us, a brand-new apartment building had been erected. The same was true of the apartment building next to us. Land in Switzerland is precious as are living spaces. I'm glad, however, that these new buildings hadn't yet been built while we were there. From our balcony, we could probably see right into the neighbor's living room.

Another change was a brand-new building housing the Prisag home health care offices and apartments for elderly. Peter Stucki, the man who owned the Prisag agency and who hired Esther to work as a home health care aid, built it.  

First up on our visit was breakfast with our former landlady, Christina, and the elderly woman (Heidi) she lived with and cared for. They were living in the new Prisag building, so we got to see it for the first time. Christina also invited several of our friends to meet with us. Some were from the Methodist Church in Aarberg, some were from the home health care agency. 

It was sad to see how much Heidi had deteriorated mentally since we had lived there five years ago. She really couldn't remember us, except that she kept staring at me as if she had seen a ghost. Perhaps she had a dim memory of me, because once when we had visited her she commented to Esther that if I weren't married, she'd make a pitch for me. 

Esther in her Prisag uniform

Sonia, from the Methodist church was also there. She remembered seeing me frequently at the café attached to the COOP supermarket chain. I recalled a time when she sat down to chat for a little bit. When she asked what I was doing, I told her I was preparing for a presentation on spiritual formation. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I became her confessor as she poured out all her many hurts in relationships. Tears flowed copiously. All I did was listen. I hope I was able to be a non anxious presence to her.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to politics. One of the women wanted to know how it was possible that someone like Donald Trump could be elected as president of the USA. It seemed incomprehensible to them, and to almost everyone I met in Switzerland. I had no answer. 

More fun than the political discussion was catching up on other friends who weren't at the breakfast and reminiscing about times we spent together: Bible studies at Peter Stucki's headquarters, Tazié services at the Reformed Church and walks along the Aare River.

The view from Meikirch

We had to finish our conversation quickly, because we were soon to meet more of Esther's co-workers in the nearby town of Bremgarten. The trip took us up over the Frienisberg hill to our favorite lookout near Meikirch (see picture above). The white-capped, iconic Alps, Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau were visible here.

Four of Esther's co-workers met us in a restaurant for lunch. Esther and I were stuffed from our recent breakfast, so we both ordered salads. Her colleagues ordered pizza, the daily menu (usually the most economical meal featuring a typical Swiss meat and potatoes meal), and pasta with various sauces. I am a pasta lover, and was deeply tempted to order some, but stuck with the salad. 

The conversation centered around clients that Esther had taken care of, and how disappointed they were when she left. In fact, her co-workers were really convinced that she would return because of this. It was also evident to me that she was beloved by her co-workers. Neither was surprising since I knew of how appreciated she was with her similar job in the USA. 

We broke up our party and returned to our home base in Worb. We had completed the first week in Switzerland, but because of the intensity and frequency of our visits, it seemed like a month. 

Enchanting Swiss Journal: Part 3: The Pit

Esther’s sister Lydia and husband Peter Moser live in what is literally called the pit. That is really the address for where they live (Grube, in German). There farm house is located between two majestic hills that rise out of the lower, flatter lands below. They are covered with spruce trees. 

In spite of the auspicious name, their old farm house has been completely redone in modern appliances and decor, making a unique mix of old and new. We arrived on a Saturday night, and although we had seen their house before, they wanted to give us a choice of where we wanted to lay our heads for the night. They were empty nesters, no children and Moser's parents had long moved away. We had five bedrooms from which to choose. 

At the back of the house was a fully furnished, modern apartment that their son had lived in before moving closer to his work. It is beautiful and modern. They would like to rent it out as an AirBnB, but it is too far away from the beaten path to attract many lodgers. It’s in the pits! 

Cow bells hanging over the entrance to the 
milking stalls. Living quarters to the left top.

We chose a bedroom on the third floor where one of their daughters had lived before getting married. Our windows looked out onto flower boxes with beautifully cascading red, lavender and white geraniums and brought in fresh mountain air. Across the farm lane was a storage shed that looked more like a miniature farm house than a shed. The balcony ledges were adorned with flower boxes filled with the same theme of geraniums. 

"Speicher" or storage shed.

We could have imagined being in paradise until we were awakened at 6:30 am by twenty cows coming in from the pasture to the barn (under the house) with humongous bells strapped to their necks ringing away. Most farmers are proud of the sound of their bells. Although Peter is retired from farming, he rents out his building to a neighbor to feed and milk his cows. Not wanting to be confined to a rocking chair, Peter goes down everyday to wash the equipment used in milking. 

After a typical bread, jam and cheese breakfast, we headed off to Peter and Lydia’s church for the Sunday morning service. It was a very small congregation, with maybe 20 in attendance, six of which were from the Moser family. Esther’s mother and an uncle attended this church before they died. Esther’s sister Rosemarie and husband Rolf are also attenders and were present on this Sunday morning.

At one time the church was considered to be very conservative, with women wearing prayer veilings and skirts. Jeans were unacceptable attire for both men and women. That is no longer the case, as nearly half of the congregation had jeans on this Sunday.

The service was simple. A short opening, a song, several prayers. Another song and then the sermon. A brand new hymnal was in place which seems very similar to the new Mennonite “Voices Together” hymnal. Many traditional hymns as well as more modern praise songs with a few African songs mixed in. 

The sermon was definitely the main focus of the service. It lasted nearly an hour. Interestingly, the preacher was Mosers’ young son-in-law Reto, married to their daughter Salome. Apparently the men pass the preaching duties around between them depending who is available. Son Andreas Moser was in attendance as well, and accompanied us on our afternoon activities.

After the service several people came up to me to practice their English. One couple had lived in Canada for a decade and managed their English quite well. Their son had married a Russian woman, so Dora, the mother, learned to speak Russian as well. Two Ukrainian refugee women attended the service and Dora translated for them.

Boardwalk leading to overlook

After lunch, we headed to a mountainous region near where Esther grew up. We were treated to a trail that was new to us called Gäggersteg. We hiked up a long incline until we reached the top of a hill overlooking the beautiful Gantrisch chain of Forealps. The trail is part of the Gantrisch Nature Park. At the top of the hill there were a series of boardwalks leading both upward and onward to a lookout point. Both the natural and wooden parts of the trail provided some spectacular views. (See pictures belos)

We decided to take a shortcut on our way home, and although beautiful, the incline was so steep that at the end of the walk my knees hurt. 

That evening the Mosers treated us to a scrumptious meal of salads, grilled meats and dessert. I am glad we spent so much time walking, considering all the food we've been consuming! 

The day full of events ended with a train ride back to our home base in Worb. 

Hosts Peter and Lydia Moser

Gantrisch Nature Park 

Hosts daughter Salome with husband
and the morning's preacher, Reto

Me with my grandnephew Noe