cover story Betsy Baron was raised a Mormon, but felt something was missing in her life. Her husband's paralyzing gunshot wound sparked a faith journey that led to the Catholic Church. Read about Betsy's FAITH walk here. Coming home By Theresa McWilliams-Wessels
	profile After a hazardous escape from Vietnam, including capture and torture, Chuong Than Nguyen found a new home in Lansing. Find out how his faith saw him through ­ and how he gives back to the church. Safe harbor By Nancy Schertzing
	profile When Kathleen McGlinchey's sister and brother-in-law died of cancer within 17 months, Kathleen became guardian of her 7-year-old niece. Find out how Megan turned Kathleen's sorrw to joy. happily ever after By Marybeth Hicks
	cutlure A tasty tradition ­ part deux. Galette des Rois, an Epiphany Cake. Epiphany Cake Michelle Sessions-DiFranco
	exclusive FAITH Magazine talked to Mike Rich, screenwriter for The Nativity Story, which is in theaters now. The Nativity Story Interview by Elizabeth Solsburg
	exclusive Karen'sjourney home to the Catholic Church. Welcome Back By Nancy Schertzing

Coming Home
A faith journey from Mormon to Catholic
By Theresa McWilliams-Wessels | Photography by Jim Luning

On her first day of work in Los Angeles, Betsy, an inactive Mormon, met Jon Baron, an inactive Catholic, as they entered the building at the same time. After a couple months of dating, Betsy flew across the country to meet Jon’s parents and he introduced her as his mother’s “future daughter in-law.” They were married five months later.

Tragedy struck the newlyweds 10 days shy of their first anniversary. Jon was gunned down by a former employee’s disgruntled spouse in the parking garage behind his office building. Miraculously, a colleague of Jon’s named Dick heard what he thought were gunshots from inside the building and ran straight to Jon, without knowing which level of the five-story garage he was on. “Dick later said he felt guided to the spot where Jon lay. Almost immediately, paramedics from the fire station across the street from the office arrived there and tried to suppress the bleeding,” says Betsy softly, “Jon was taken to the trauma center at Harbor UCLA.

As the first gunshot victim of the night in south L.A., he had the best surgeons perform his various surgeries,” Betsy says. His aorta, the largest artery in the human body, had been punctured twice on either side of the heart. “ He received 50 units of blood during surgery and his doctors told me that he had a 1 percent chance of survival,” says Betsy. The first of three bullets also struck his spinal cord, paralyzing him from the waist down.

“Jon said he felt an incredible peace as the surgeons worked on him, and since there was not enough time to give him anesthesia, he drifted in and out of consciousness during surgery. He said he just kept thinking that he needed more time with me and that he couldn’t let his mother bury her son.”

He could only communicate in writing the first two weeks, since he was on a ventilator. The first words he wrote to Betsy were, “We have to be strong.”

“That has become our family motto,” Betsy recounts.

Betsy grew up in Salt Lake City where Mormonism is more than just a religion – it’s a lifestyle. Mormons, or members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, comprise 60 percent of Utah’s 2.5 million people. Mormons adhere to a strict code of conduct; they also avoid tobacco, alcohol and caffeine. Mormons are required to give 10 percent of their net incomes to the church.

But by the time Betsy moved to Los Angeles at the age of 23, she was no longer an active Mormon.

After the shooting, the Barons attended Mass quarterly – “Christmas, Easter, and a few in between,” Betsy explains. After she became pregnant with their first son, Nick, she decided to try the Mormon church again. She had been inactive for eight years and wanted to see if it was right for her. The Barons moved to Ann Arbor, where Jon attended St. Francis and Betsy took Nick, and later Eric, to a Mormon church. Since Mormons are designated a specific time to come to services, worshippers see the same people every week and develop friendships very easily. However, the friendships weren’t enough to give Betsy the spiritual uplift she needed. Eight years later, Nick was the age that Mormons baptize their children. But Nick was adamant that he did not want to be baptized Mormon; he wanted to attend his father’s church. That same year, the Ann Arbor Mormon ward closed due to renovation and Betsy didn’t want to travel to the Ypsilanti church from Dexter for a 3 p.m. Sunday service. After Betsy and the children began attending Mass, they decided, as a family, that the Catholic faith was right for them.

When they moved to Dexter in 2001, Betsy began attending RCIA sessions at St. Joseph and was baptized, along with her children, during the 2002 Easter Vigil. Jon’s entire extended family came to town from Albany, N.Y., to witness the sacrament. Betsy’s Mormon friends from her former ward also showed their support by attending. However, Betsy did not tell her parents of her conversion until a week before her baptism. Her mother still refuses to talk about it, while her father was more accepting.

“When I first started attending Mass, I was shocked that the whole service celebrates Christ – which is exactly what I was looking for beyond Mormonism. When I leave Mass, I have a very peaceful feeling within and also for my family. I feel the biggest joy is going together as a family. I’ll never forget the night we were all baptized at Easter Vigil; the ceremony was so serene and spiritual. Fr. Brendan always brings in a little pool to use for the baptisms.

“I was ‘dunked’ first, then Eric (who was 4 years old) was to come in, but hesitated. I held out my arms for him and he ran to me. I just burst into tears because I felt it was so right. Father gently poured the holy water over Eric.

“Then Nick, who was 9, plugged his nose as Father dunked him – everyone laughed.

“The best part was looking at my husband while we were all standing there in drenched robes: He had the proudest look on his face with tears in his eyes.

“I felt called to focus on Jesus Christ, and while there are many aspects of the Mormon church I liked, and Mormons do regard Jesus as the Messiah, they believe the Trinity to be three separate entities rather than three in one.”

The Mormon belief that there are three separate levels of heaven – telestial, terrestrial and celestial – was upsetting to Betsy. “The idea of families being separated in heaven was something I couldn’t accept. I feel that we have a loving God that would want us to be with our families and loved ones [even if they weren’t Mormon],” says Betsy.

Since Mormons only use the King James version of the Bible, as well as the additional Book of Mormon, the Catholic Bible has taken some getting used to. Regarding the Virgin Mary, Betsy says “I always felt like she was ignored in the past. As a woman and a mother, I like having her as a guide and think she deserves respect as the mother of God.”

“When we first attended St. Joseph’s, it was not wheelchair-friendly. However, we met Fr. Brendan and really thought he was an awesome priest. And the people were friendly and helpful trying to find a place for Jon to fit the wheelchair. We are in the process of building a new, larger and handicap accessible church,” says Betsy warmly.

The Barons have added to St. Joseph’s population: They welcomed twins Amanda and Luke in January 2006.

“What a blessing these sweet spirits have been to our family. First of all, they were very healthy at birth, which was a huge blessing and relief. Nick and Eric help a lot with Luke and Amanda. Since Amanda is the only girl in the family, they have nicknamed her ‘Precious’. There seems to be a lot more laughter in our home now with the babies,” says Betsy. “They were baptized in April – which is the first traditional baptism any of our children have had. It was extremely special.

“I felt so blessed that we were now truly together as a family. I felt like I was home.”

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Finding a new home in the Catholic Church

Betsy became a Catholic through participation in a process called the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, or RCIA. During this faith journey, those who are unbaptized or baptized in other faiths explore Catholicism and prepare to be welcomed into the church at the Easter Vigil Mass.

For more information about the RCIA, to volunteer as a team member or a sponsor, or just to find out more about the Catholic faith, contact your parish’s RCIA coordinator.

Safe Harbor
Chuong Than Nguyen
found a new home in Lansing
By Nancy Schertzing | Photography by Tom Gennara

Harborless. In the late ’70s and early ’80s, this word would have conjured images of Vietnamese boat people crammed into fishing crafts or refugee camps. People like Chuong Than Nguyen.

The oldest child of a South Vietnamese airman, Chuong enjoyed a comfortable childhood away from the horrors of the war. Family, school, church and freedom formed the pillars of Chuong’s early life – especially his Catholic faith.

When Saigon fell, Chuong’s comfortable childhood fell with it. The Nguyens chafed under the harsh totalitarian regime. Schools indoctrinated students, brainwashing them into becoming Communist “Ho Chi Minh Children.” The government banned religion and dictated devotion to Ho Chi Minh. Personal freedoms fell to endless rules brutally enforced.

The Nguyens had to get out.

Chuong attempted to escape Vietnam four times. Once, he was captured and imprisoned in a cargo box under the tropical sun. “They put me in a12’ X 12’ metal box, one of those they drop supplies for soldiers. They put me in, with 100 degrees Fahrenheit and humid,” Chuong recalls. “They put me in there for three days and torture me to tell them who organized escape. Finally my parents get me out of there. They bribe. If you have money they get you out – the more money the better.”

But the torture didn’t stop him. In 1981, just before his 18th birthday, Chuong was desperate to leave Vietnam. Communist Army draftees faced horrific death rates on the Cambodia or Laotian fronts. Chuong believed he had no more than a 5 percent chance of survival if he was drafted

With his 15-year-old brother, Chuong slipped away after dark. They each carried one change of clothes and one gold ring their mother gave them to sell when they needed money. From their river village, they smuggled themselves aboard a 30-foot water taxi working its way along the rivers toward the sea. “Is very dangerous. We had to hide away from the police because if they see you they shoot you or put you in jail and torture you or beat you up. They don’t treat you like human.”

This time Chuong and his brother made it aboard a 40-foot fishing vessel departing Vietnam for the open seas. Its cargo of 45 refugees hid in a tiny compartment under the cabin. Chuong explains, “Where they keep the ice and the fish, we were sitting down there, not with our feet straight. We had to squeeze ourselves in so we could fit under the cabin.”

For seven days, the refugees sat curled up – chins to their knees, their arms holding their thighs to their chests. Enduring tropical heat and open seas, they rejoiced when their boat reached Malaysia.

Malaysia, however, did not rejoice. Overrun by Vietnam’s escapees, Malaysia quarantined the Vietnamese boat people to protect its own population from illness or other refugee-related issues. They sent Chuong and his boat-mates to a camp on a deserted island off the Malaysian coast. They ordered their fishing boat sunk, and before Chuong could swim back to rescue his clothes and his mother’s gold rings, Malaysian authorities torpedoed the fishing boat.

Chuong and his brother watched in horror as their clothes and money sank to the bottom of the South China Sea. “At that time I did not have anything,” Chuong says looking back. “No money. The only thing I had which is my shorts. That’s it.”

With nothing, Chuong and his brother began their new life. Their camp was run by U.N. workers who checked in early mornings and cleared out by 8:30 a.m. They provided fresh water and food rations once a week, but little more.

The island’s few tents and shacks went to women and children, leaving young men to fend for themselves amid the island’s sand, rocks and trees. “I sleep on the roof of a shack for six months with a piece of the roof over my body to protect it from the dew.” For the next eight months, Chuong and his brother lived on this desert island. A stream in the center of the island provided water to bathe and occasionally wash their shorts. Some months after their arrival, UN workers gave them new clothes. Mostly, they lived on hope for a better life.

Because of their father’s war service, Chuong and his brother applied to the U.S. for asylum. They were accepted – and after eight months in Malaysia, transferred to a U.S. refugee camp in Kuala Lumpur, then to the Philippines. In the winter of 1982, they landed in New Jersey and quickly headed across country in a Greyhound bus to join cousins in California. There, Chuong and his brother worked to send money to their parents, funding their refugee journey.

“I tried to find money to send to my parents to support them,” Chuong recalls. “If they don’t have money it pretty tough for them. So I tried to work in a restaurant. You know, I just tried to do a little bit here, you know, here, help out.”

In 1983, Chuong reunited with his family in Mason. He studied English and worked on his GED at night, while working maintenance by day in the county courthouse. Within months, he had earned his GED and enrolled in Lansing Community College. From there he went on to a PC/LAN management bachelor’s degree program at Davenport University. Despite challenges, Chuong achieved every academic goal, earning a GPA of 3.46 while working full time.

“When I struggle in school because of language, because of family, because of financial problem, I had no way out,” he recalls. “I came to the adoration and I sit down and talk about it with God. I say ‘I give up. I don’t have the strength to do anything more. I give up.’

“But then I look up and I say, ‘Well I’ve already go this far, and I won’t reach the destination. Why I give up?’ I kind of talked silently to Jesus in the Eucharist, and I just suddenly have a bargaining in my mind. I say, ‘God if you really want me to go through this, please help me and make me go through this. I don’t think I have the ability or enough strength. But if I go through this I will do whatever you want.’ At that time I feel something. I feel spiritually. And it all happen. You know, you just fall into the path.”

In 1992, after earning his U.S. citizenship, Chuong took his mother back to visit Vietnam. While in the old country, he met his future wife through a series of “coincidences” arranged by his family and his pastor, Father Joseph. For two years, she and Chuong got acquainted through calls and letters. They married in 1994. Today, they have two beautiful daughters.

Looking back over his journey from harborless Vietnamese boat person to grounded middle-class American, Chuong smiles, “I really just thanks God a lot for what he done for me. Because I realize other people don’t have the opportunity like me to get out of Vietnam and from here to better myself. And I know all of my life I didn’t realize it, but I think God lead me step by step.”

“Sometime I didn’t realize that and I asked God where is he in my life. Especially when I was in that camp, I have that feeling. But because I believe in him, I keep asking, ‘God please lead me and guide me.’

“And now I look at my past, and I say ‘Oh My God! He really did it to me!’”

God had been his harbor all along.

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St. Andrew Dung-Lac
A home for the Vietnamese community

During the late ’70s and early ’80s, many Vietnamese refugees settled in the Diocese of Lansing, especially in the Flint and Lansing regions. In 1982, the community was blessed with the pastoral care of Father Joseph Tran, who celebrated Mass for them at St. Mary Cathedral. Beginning in 1984, Bishop Povish began the tradition of Lansing bishops celebrating the vigil Mass of Christmas with the Vietnamese community, which continues with Bishop Mengeling. In 1998, St. Andrew Dung-Lac Parish was formed and Father Tran installed as pastor.

happily ever after
Kathleen lost her sister and brother-in-law,
but gained a daughter
by Marybeth Hicks | Photography by Tom Gennara

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Megan who lived in suburban Detroit with her mommy and her daddy and her cat, Squirt. The little girl was her parents’ pride and joy – an unexpected surprise who made their lives complete. They lived in a lovely farm house, where aunts and uncles and cousins gathered for birthdays and holidays and even for no reason at all. Megan’s home was happy, and her story was just like a fairy tale.

But one day, doctors started to use the word “cancer,” and within the span of 17 months, Megan had lost both her father – to an insidious brain tumor – and her mother – to an aggressive and relentless form of breast cancer.

At only 7, Megan’s life was forever changed. But thanks to an unshakable faith in God, a large and loving family, and, most of all, to her mother’s dear sister and brother-in-law, Megan found “happily ever after” isn’t just a fairy tale ending…

Kathleen McGlinchey wipes the tears from her eyes as she tells the story of her sister’s death from breast cancer. “Maureen never complained, she never felt sorry for herself,” Kathleen says. “She just did what she had to do.”

As sisters, Kathleen and Maureen were particularly close, especially since they both became parents at around the same point later in life. Maureen and her husband, Dick DeShetler, welcomed Megan into the world in October 1987. Both parents were in their 40s and were thrilled that God had blessed them with a daughter to join a family that included Dick’s three children from a prior marriage.

Just a year later, after waiting for nearly 10 years, Kathleen and husband Mark Graham became the adoptive parents of a son, Matt. The young cousins became pre-school playmates who loved to spend time together, just as their moms enjoyed sharing the journey of motherhood.

As Kathleen remembers, the early years with Megan and Matt were idyllic – trips to the zoo and countless family parties – just the sorts of events that make for a happy childhood.

But the “idyllic” life they enjoyed changed in May of 1993, when Dick was diagnosed with a glioblastoma multiforme – a pervasive tumor that attacks both sides of the brain. A biopsy revealed the worst; Dick’s condition was inoperable and, at only 51, he would have only about six months to live.

The shock of the diagnosis left the entire family reeling. The next several months found Kathleen, her siblings and their spouses all rallying to help their sister Maureen through a grueling experience. Dick died in January 1994, and the family set about the business of comforting a grieving widow.

Not for long. The next month, Maureen learned that the results of her annual mammogram were suspicious and warranted further investigation. Once again, Kathleen found herself in a hospital waiting room, pacing the floor and worrying about her beloved sister.

“We couldn’t believe this was happening,” Kathleen says. “It just seemed surreal.” When the doctors finally emerged to tell the family the outcome of Maureen’s surgery, the news was horrible. Cancer already had crept into her lymph nodes, which meant her treatment would need to be aggressive and her prognosis was guarded, at best.

“The worst part was watching her suffer,” Kathleen recalls with tears pooling in her eyes. For better or worse, Maureen’s suffering didn’t last long. The cancer that had invaded her lymph system had worked its way to her spine by Christmas. The extended McGlinchey family gathered to celebrate the birth of the Savior, but their holiday was spent in the somber realization that they faced an unspeakable loss.

Amid all this suffering and sadness was Megan, a first-grader with a winning smile and an endearing charm. A beginning Irish dancer, Megan managed to bring smiles to her family as she danced jigs and reels in the living room. She cuddled with her mom while they read to each other. She went to school and played with her cat and did what first-graders do.

But unlike most first-graders, Megan already had said goodbye to one parent and she was about to say goodbye to the other.

Kathleen and Mark knew they had been chosen by Maureen to take Megan into their home. “She tried to talk to me about raising Megan once, but I couldn’t do it. I cried and told her that having that conversation meant I’d have to give up hope that she’d get well, and I just wasn’t prepared to do that,” Kathleen says. “I regret it now, but thankfully she talked to Mark and told him what she wanted for Megan.”

Clearly, while Megan’s loss would be the most profound, her circumstances would impact an entire family. “I realized then that my life was not my own,” Kathleen says. “God was using me as an instrument to assemble the family that he was creating for us.

“The day of Maureen’s funeral was the saddest, worst day of my life,” Kathleen says. After consulting psychologists and childhood grief experts, Kathleen and Mark determined the best thing for Megan was to bring her to her new home after the funeral. So they packed up two vans with her clothes and toys and all her belongings, and then Kathleen rode back to Lansing with her mother, her sister Marge, Megan, and Squirt the cat.

The ordeal left Kathleen questioning God’s mercy. How and why could he let this couple die? What was his purpose in leaving their daughter without her parents? What good was all the suffering they had witnessed?

“I was always a prayerful person, but it was very tough by this time,” Kathleen admits. She struggled with her faith because she didn’t see the point in all the sadness.

But sadness did not win out. Megan’s arrival in the McGlinchey-Graham home only meant adjusting to a new reality, not living in the reality that was lost. For the most part, Megan’s arrival brought more music, laughter and love into a home that already brimmed with affection.

“I definitely have made some mistakes – like our first Christmas when we decorated the tree and Megan went to the basement in tears rather than hang ornaments with us. I asked her what was wrong and she said, ‘None of the ornaments belonged to me.’ I felt just awful! How I wished I had thought to get her Christmas ornaments before then.” Kathleen still fights the guilt of knowing that Megan felt hurt.

Yet she knows in looking out for Megan, she’s not alone. “I always sense Maureen and Dick are with me, guiding me as I raise their daughter. And I often pray that they’ll intercede and help me to make the right decisions for her.” On reflection, Kathleen sees God’s hand in so many details that always work out for the best.

Megan was adopted by Kathleen and Mark after a few years, though she chose to keep her parents’ name.

Somehow, Megan never succumbed to the grief her early life suggested. At Lansing Catholic Central, she was an excellent student and cheerleader, known as a positive presence in her community. A beautiful girl inside and out, Megan was chosen “prom queen” last spring, just before graduating with honors. She’s now a freshman at St. Mary’s College at Notre Dame and thinks one day she’ll be a doctor.

“All her life, people have commented on Megan’s joyful spirit,” Kathleen says. “They say she never seems to have a bad day – but of course, she’s already had more bad days than most kids see in a lifetime. She has a perspective many people never learn.”

A fairy tale ending? If there is such a thing, Kathleen thinks it’s all due to the family and friends who supported them through an unthinkable tale of woe, and to the faith and prayers that sustain them as their remarkable family story unfolds.

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Support during sorrow

Megan, Kathleen and their family were supported during their sorrow by friends and relatives – but they also found a source of strength through a community-based grief support group called Ele’s Place. If you are in need of a shoulder to lean on during a time of bereavement, contact your local Catholic Charities agency for help.

Adrian: Catholic Charities of Lenawee, 517.263.2191

Ann Arbor: Catholic Social Services of Washtenaw County, 734.971.9781

Davison: Outreach East, 810.663.7711

Flint: Catholic Charities of Shiawassee and Genesee Counties, 810.232.9950

Howell: Catholic Social Services of Livingston County, 517.545.5944

Jackson: Catholic Charities of Jackson, 517.782.2551, 517.782.4430

Lansing: St. Vincent Catholic Charities, 517.372.4700

Owosso: Catholic Charities of Shiawassee and Genesee Counties, 989.723.8239

A candle
for remembering
Michelle Sessions DiFranco | Photography by Phillip Shippert

Last year, as you may recall, I shared a bit (or should I say, bite) of my Grandma Lucy’s delicious coffee cake recipe, along with its family tradition. It was a cinnamon-raisin, wreath-shaped creation, with the unexpected ingredient of mashed potatoes in it. This year, I thought it would be neat to revisit another family tradition that ties in with the season and tastes great.

I was introduced to this particular treat shortly before I married my husband, David, while at his extended family’s Christmas gathering. His family meets every year on the Feast of the Epiphany – so his cousin, Marlene, thought it would be neat to start bringing an Epiphany cake to help mark the occasion. The recipe and tradition do not actually originate in Italy, which is where my husband’s family is from. This tasty treat is from France. I found it surprising they would even bother with such an endeavor since their philosophy is: If it’s not Italian, it’s not worth cooking. In any case, I remember taking that first bite and I must say, the taste was an epiphany – absolutely scrumptious. I had never eaten anything like it.

In France, this pastry, Galette des Rois (king’s cake), has been baked for centuries to celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany on Jan. 6. Traditionally, it is made of a puff pastry, with a feve (or bean) hidden inside. Whoever gets the piece of cake with the bean gets to be king or queen for a day and wear a paper crown. The cake, along with its age-old tradition, varies from region to region in France and the bean itself is often replaced by other small trinkets.

The significance of the tradition, however, is to remind us of the importance of the day. With cake in hand, we joyfully reflect on the manifestation of Christ to the Three Kings, and we pause to consider the majesty of Christ to whom the mightiest kings all bow.

Cousin Marlene gave me enthusiastic approval to share her simplified version of this seasonal staple of classic French cuisine. It is quite easy to make for such a delicious dessert – and one you may want to include in your family gathering. So, whether you put a bean or some other trinket inside, you can be sure that this tradition honoring the three kings has a taste worthy of royalty.

Ingredients:
• 2 sheets of puff pastry (found in the freezer section of most grocery chains)
• 8 oz. almond paste (one store-bought can)
• 2 eggs (set one beaten egg aside for glaze)
• 1 kidney bean or small china figurine (to place inside)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Mix the almond paste with one egg until smooth, and set aside.

On a floured, cold surface, roll out two 12-inch circles from the defrosted puff pastry sheets. For a nice even circle, use a dinner plate (face down) as a template. Place one of the pastry circles on a greased and floured, or parchment-lined, baking sheet.

Evenly spread the almond paste mixture on the pastry, starting from the center and leaving a one-inch border all around. Drop the kidney bean or trinket anywhere in the filling and place the other pastry circle on top of the first one. Press the edges of the two circles tightly to seal (so no filling leaks out).

Brush the top with that extra beaten egg and use a knife to lightly score a design into the top. Cut a small cross in the center of the pastry (for steam to escape during baking).

Place in oven and bake for 20-25 minutes until golden brown. Allow to cool slightly and sprinkle top with powdered sugar before serving.

More Ideas
• For a decorative touch, place a gold or silver paper crown on top of the cake before serving. It can later be given to the person who gets the bean or trinket.

• Making your own almond paste is inexpensive, using ingredients you may already have in the pantry. Go online for recipes.