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!