cover story Ruth Abood was finalizing the adoption of her infant son in Lebanon. Just before she was scheduled to get on a flight home to Lansing, bombs started falling. Ruth was caught in the middle of an ancient conflict between Muslims and Jews. Find out how her faith got her through. Braving the Bombs By Nancy Schertzing
	profile Sister Mary Ann had a successful career in advertising. Read more about how God called her to a different life. What do I know? By Marybeth Hicks
	profile Paco and Millie are physicians ­ but they are also catechists with a mission. Find out how they spend their free time helping out at migrant worker camps in Washtenaw County. A life of humble service By Bob Horning
	culture Need a refuge from mass marketing? Make it about Mary! Make it about Mary Michelle Sessions DiFranco
	exclusive The back door slams shut. Seconds later, Jimmy stomps across the kitchen and into the dark living room, where he sinks dejectedly into an easy chair. Friendship struggles all part of the game By Marybeth Hicks

Risking it all for love
Ruth Abood braved bombs in Lebanon to adopt her son
By Nancy Schertzing | Photography by Jim Luning

On April 22, he appeared on the steps of the local Catholic church. His mother, probably a child herself, had broken strict Lebanese taboos by giving birth outside of wedlock. To protect herself and her family, she anonymously handed her baby over to the church and set him on an adventure through ancient hatreds and foreign lands, all within the safe harbor of one human heart.

On the other side of the globe, Ruth Abood took the call from their adoption attorney. There was a baby available – a newborn boy found on the steps of the church orphanage in a small village outside Beirut. The local priest would release the “foundling” for adoption if Ruth and Chris were willing to commit.

“This is what we’d waited for,” Ruth explains. “When I was 27, I had uterine cancer, so Chris and I always knew we would adopt. Before the cancer, I’d given birth to my daughter, Ellie, so I know how wonderful it is to welcome a child into life. It was the same with John. From the moment we got the call, he was our son.

“Ten days later Chris and I traveled to Lebanon to meet John Christopher for the first time,” Ruth smiles. “His foster family took good care of him and helped us get to know him. After a week, Chris had to return to his [neurosurgery] practice, and I came home to our daughter Ellie. But we went back twice over the next two months.”

Like other abandoned babies in Lebanon, John had no birth certificate. Without birth papers from his native land, Ruth and Chris could not bring him into the United States. So, while they were in Lebanon, they worked with local authorities to get John’s birth certificate. And in the US, they worked through the usual adoption channels to complete John’s immigration paperwork as quickly as possible.

On their last visit, Ruth saw Chris off at the Beirut airport – expecting to join him at home a week later and hoping John would soon join them for good. With the help of Chris’ cousins living in Beirut, Ruth settled into a week with her baby boy. She savored every minute with John before she had to leave him again.

But the night before Ruth’s scheduled return everything changed. Israeli bombs, targeting Hezbollah insurgents, rained down on the Beirut airport and other strategic sites in Lebanon. Ruth called home, waking Chris in the dead of night. “They’re telling me the Beirut airport is bombed out, Chris. Can you turn on CNN and tell me what’s happening?” Incredulous, Chris watched as his TV glowed with familiar images of bombs falling on his ancestral home. But this time they were trapping his wife and son in the ancient hatreds of Jewish and Muslim neighbors.

“The first few days, whenever I called home, Chris would say, ‘They’re telling me there might be a forced evacuation for all Americans. If that happens you’ll have to leave the baby.’ Another time he said ‘They’re saying you should come home.’ I knew he was probably right, and he was very concerned about our safety. But I also knew I would have to find a different solution. I didn’t respond.

“Finally, during one of these calls I told him I was not leaving Lebanon without John. As soon as I said that, calm came over his voice. ‘OK. That’s settled then’ – and we talked about provisions and where to stay. I know he wanted the decision [to stay] to be mine alone, but I think he was relieved that I wasn’t leaving our baby behind.

“Chris’ relatives are caught in the middle like most Lebanese Christians,” Ruth explains. “They take it all in stride. During our cousin’s ninth birthday party, for example, a bomb hit nearby. The apartment was shaking, but no one missed a beat in singing Happy Birthday. Yet they were totally focused on keeping John and me safe and getting us out of Lebanon. They hosted us at their apartments, drove us everywhere and helped with John in so many ways.

“Early in the bombing campaign, I went to the local pharmacy and asked to buy all their baby formula, thinking I needed enough for John if the bombing closed everything down. The pharmacist looked at me in disgust as if I was the only one who needed formula for my baby. He told me, ‘You’re an American, why don’t you get out like all the others?’ When I told him I was adopting a baby from Lebanon, he softened a little bit. But he told me I could buy one can a day like everyone else. My cousin Myrna bought one a day also, so we quickly had enough to last a month or more.”

“The next two weeks passed in a blur. I moved with the cousins from location to location, trying to stay safe. Once we left a spot we couldn’t expect to get back because the Israelis bombed roads and bridges.

“If there’s anything that really went right, it’s that Chris left before the bombing started. He worked constantly to get John’s paperwork approved for immigration. He saw a story on CNN one day of a Lebanese baby who came to the U.S. under a humanitarian parole. So he immediately called our senators and congressman to get them to try that, along with a temporary immigrant visa. He was always calm and reassuring on the phone whenever I called. No matter how close the bombs were landing, I never felt that he wasn’t going to get us home.

“Finally, about two weeks into the bombing, Chris told me the paperwork was ready. I had to report to the American Embassy and get myself and John out of Lebanon. Chris’ American cousin, Nawal, had also been with us adopting their daughter, Terese – so the four of us went to the embassy together the next morning at 7:00. We waited in the hot sun for almost two hours along with hundreds of others trying to get out. When I finally gave the consulate my name, they had the paperwork waiting for us. Over the next four hours we processed both temporary immigrant visas and humanitarian paroles for both babies and we were cleared to go. They sent us directly to Beirut Harbor for evacuation.”

“Late that day we boarded a cruise ship that had been taken over for American evacuations. The boat rocked from bomb blasts falling around us until sundown when we were escorted out of Beirut Harbor by an American destroyer on our left and an aircraft carrier on our right. Nawal and I gave the babies a quick shower and lay down in the single bed with John and Terese safe between us. That was the only sleep we would get for three days.”

“From Cyprus to Germany then on home, we traveled with the help of countless strangers from US Marines to Greek and Muslim women welcoming us and offering food and support. I look back and see their faces and all the people who helped us along the way on this incredible adventure. They were the presence of God for us.”

Still, one faceless stranger stands out most in Ruth’s mind – the one reflected in her young son’s smiles and tears.

“When we made it to the U.S., Nawal and I were interviewed on Larry King Live. So many emotions! But I remember wondering if John’s birth mother was watching.” Ruth’s eyes fill with tears. “I hoped she could see that he was safe.”

Ruth smiles, “I wish she could know how very much he is loved.”

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Adopting?

Many of our Catholic Charities agencies provide assistance in arranging adoptions. For more information, visit the new Diocese of Lansing Web site at www.dioceseoflansing.org and click on the link to Catholic Charities. Or call your local Catholic Charities agency:

Adrian: Catholic Charities of Lenawee, 517.263.2191
Ann Arbor: Catholic Social Services of Washtenaw County, 734.971.9781
Davison: Outreach East, 810.653.7711
Flint: Catholic Charities of Shiawassee and Genesee Counties, 810.232.9950
Catholic Outreach, 810.234.4693
Howell: Livingston County Catholic Social Services, 517.545.5944
Jackson: Catholic Charities of Jackson, 517.782.2551 and 517.782.4430
Lansing: St. Vincent Catholic Charities, 517.323.4734
Cristo Rey Community Center, 517.373.4700
Owosso: Catholic Charities of Shiawassee and Genesee Counties, 989.723.8239

What do I know?
From ad executive to religious sister - Sister Mary Ann Foggin
By Marybeth Hicks | Photography by Tom Gennara

For Sister Mary Ann Foggin, Director of Vocation Services for the Diocese of Lansing, the road to a vocation was unconventional, to say the least. A successful advertising executive, Sister Mary Ann was a high achiever on the professional fast track. Until God stepped in.

How did an advertising executive end up in the Service of God’s Love?

I became a sister in 1998. I was an older vocation, in that I came to this life at age 40. Typically, a woman finds her vocation between the ages of 18 and 35, and this is usually stipulated by the church because it’s presumed that after a certain point, it’s hard to be “formed” to a life of obedience to God. But there are many communities now that are open to older vocations.

I was raised a Catholic, but I had no personal relationship with Jesus Christ. In my 30’s I experienced a crisis as my job was in jeopardy, and at the same time it became clear I would not be getting married as I had expected. My life was spinning out of control.

While I hadn’t had a personal relationship with the Lord, for some reason I always felt close to the Blessed Mother, and it was at this point that she intervened in my life. I was inspired to read about the messages of the Blessed Mother at Medjugorje, and I heard her words that God loves us; all we have to do is say ‘Yes, I love you, too.’

After I read this, I had a dream in which the Lord said to me, ‘I found you.’ This was an amazing experience of his love. The next morning I woke up and decided to go to Mass. I hadn’t been to Mass in 10 years – I had no idea even what time Mass might be – but I went to the cathedral at 6:30 in the morning and the janitor opened the door for me. He told me Mass started at 6:45. All through it I cried because for the first time I understood what I had been seeking.

What happened next? How did you get from that moment to deciding you were meant to become a sister?

I knew at the moment I had found what I was looking for, but it took another two years for God to call me away from the life I was living. Over a three-day period, I felt the Lord calling me to quit my job. My response was pretty much, ‘Well that’s lovely Lord, but no thanks.’ But this persistent sense stayed with me that this was his request, so I asked two women who were my prayer partners to pray about it. One told me that the Lord’s answer was that God would provide for me; the other said God wanted me to know that he loved me and to trust him. I still felt this was a step that made me too fearful – I mean, I had been very successful and I couldn’t just walk away from my career. How would I live?

Then, a Christian friend at work said she was inspired to share a Bible verse with me – ‘You cannot serve both God and man.’ This was the confirmation I needed that it was time to quit, so I submitted my resignation that very day. My boss offered me a sum of money to stay on long enough to train my successor – and this was the money I needed to live on while I continued to listen to God calling me. So of course, God did provide for me because I trusted him.

Eventually I started visiting communities and looking for a place that felt like the right fit. When I found the Servants of God’s Love, I finally heard the Lord say, ‘Your heart has found its home.’

What would you tell your younger self?

What’s important in life is not what you do, but who you are. I had that backwards for way too long!

When have you seen true wisdom?

I’m one of five girls in my family, and my dad would always say to us, “I’ll always be proud of you as long as you can look in the mirror and be proud of who you are.” But look how long it took me to understand what he was talking about?

What are your defining characteristics?

I’m very ‘type A’ – a control freak. I need all the details worked out in order to feel comfortable, which, of course, is why I needed to know how God would provide for me before I let him do it.

What is your biggest disappointment in life?

Well, everything happens in God’s time, but I wish I could have lived the life I’m living now 10 years earlier. But the Lord knew what it would take to get me here, and he waited patiently for me.

What is your greatest joy?

Jesus, without a doubt!

What question would you ask God if you could?

How did my car keys end up in the garbage last week? We looked everywhere for them and finally I decided to look in the trash, and there they were! The big questions? God has answered all of those already.

When you get to heaven, what do you hope God will say to you?

‘I found you.’ I feel chosen when I am aware of his presence in my life. I tell young girls that if God’s love calls you to this life it isn’t a sacrifice. There’s nothing better.

A life of humble service
Paco and Millie Lopez's ministry to migrants
By Bob Horning | Photography by Tom Gennara

In 1992, Juan (Paco) and Millie Lopez were asked to attend a meeting for those interested in ministering to the migrant workers at the DuRussels’ Potato Farms in Manchester. “My gut reaction was that it wasn’t my thing,” Paco recalls. “I wanted to do something more intellectual. I’m into study and research; this was too much like social action. But we showed up. As a result, one Friday we went out to the farm at 6 p.m.and began visiting the workers, going house to house. Before we knew it, it was midnight.”

Millie points out that “house” is used loosely. “They are actually trailers, row apartments, and cottage-style duplexes, some with dirt floors,” she says. “This is their home from May through October, when most return to south Texas, some to Mexico.” While at the 2,000-acre farm, they work 10- to 12-hour days, six days per week, not just with potatoes, but also with spinach, sweet corn, radishes, green peppers, tomatoes, herbs, spices and more.

“Our efforts there started out slowly,” Paco said, “but working with people, especially poor and hard-working like these, gets you hooked. Now we go two or three times per week during the season.” In addition, there are eight other volunteers helping on a regular or occasional basis, most of them also parishioners at St. Thomas the Apostle Church in Ann Arbor. Organizing donations of household goods, and arranging medical and dental treatment are some of their major priorities.

“Our primary work has been catechesis,” says Millie, “especially for first Communion, confirmation and marriage preparation. And for a couple of years we had to teach apologetics.”

The couple has also initiated three annual events for the migrants: a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Consolation in Carey, Ohio; a retreat; and a Mass with the bishop presiding.

Both talk excitedly about seeing “the hand of God at work.” Like when Apolonio, who had three children but was not married, was baptized, confirmed, and received first Communion from Bishop Mengeling when the bishop came to say Mass. “Apolonio cried when the bishop assured him that all of his sins really would be washed away in baptism. Latino men don’t cry in public. One month later, Apolonio and his wife were married in the church. Now he is one of the spiritual leaders.”

Or Geraldo, who had been a Jehovah’s Witness. He was also baptized, confirmed, and married. Paco and Millie attribute the change in the men to the Holy Spirit working in their hearts as they hear the teaching of the church. “Remember, too, that often in their culture, religion is relegated to the women,” they say.

It was examples in their childhood that greatly influenced both Paco and Millie to become physicians, and later to get involved in helping the poor.

Millie’s brother, 13 at the time, severely broke his leg in a horse-riding accident. Because of the danger of gangrene and possible amputation, the doctor in the little town in the hills of Puerto Rico sent him to the Shriners’ Hospital in Philadelphia. There he had 14 surgeries and received free care for three years. Millie was so impressed by the compassion and giving of the physicians that she aspired to become a doctor herself.

Paco’s grandfather was a doctor in the hills of Cuba. People would come to him from all over, at all hours of the day or night. His patience and quiet strength was something Paco wanted to emulate. Paco’s family left Cuba after Fidel Castro came to power, lived in Spain shortly, then moved to Puerto Rico. Paco met Millie at medical school in San Juan. They were engaged there. They also went on a Cursillo weekend during school, and the impact was instrumental to their living a dedicated, vibrant Catholic life.

Because both were interested in research, they did their residency in the United States where there is more opportunity – Millie in Flint and Paco in Ann Arbor. Paco is now associate professor of psychiatry at the University of Michigan, and Millie is an endocrinologist and pediatrician specializing in the effects of hormones and stress on children.

Working with migrants is a natural extension of who they are, Millie says, “We are Catholic and love Jesus, so we want to live in a Catholic way. For example, in our jobs, there are times we have to take a stand against things like abortion or embryonic stem cell research. We strive to be good doctors and hold to our principle. We try to bring the same approach to the migrant workers. We share our faith, and even do a little medical work when appropriate.”

Paco considers helping the poor humbling “because it’s as if we are taking care of Jesus. Service is at the core of being a disciple of Jesus. In addition, since we are fairly well off, being around the poor keeps us centered on Jesus. We have worked hard to get what we have, but we don’t want the trappings to own us. Many times we stop and ask ourselves, ‘Do we really need that?’

“Another benefit is that we have been forced to learn our faith well enough to teach it to others. Then, as someone in a visible position, we need to try to live a holy life, hold to a high standard. I like to talk, but if I don’t also walk the walk, no one will believe what I say.”

There are also difficult parts. “There are times after a busy day at work that we just want to go home, relax, and be with our daughters (Maria Esperanza, 4, and Maria Christina, 3, are both adopted),” Millie says. “We head to the farm instead. It’s a sacrifice.”

But seeing many waking up to their religion – and liking it, is more than worth it to the Lopezes. “It’s amazing when you see conversion right before your eyes,” Paco said. “Valeriano is a 70-year-old who hadn’t gone to confession in 35 years. Since finally going, he now gets up at four in the morning to pray before work. They put us to shame. They work sunup to sundown, earning little pay with which to provide for the family. They have to move their family twice a year. They don’t have much, but still they try to live their faith, and still they go to meetings during the week and Mass on Sunday.”

“Many of them are so sharp,” Millie says. “If they had the chances we do, they could do anything with their lives.”

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For more information about ministry to migrants and to Hispanic Catholics, especially in the Midwest, visit the Web site of the Midwest Catholic Association of Hispanic Ministry (Asociacion Catolica del Medio Oeste para el Ministerio Hispano) at http://mwcahm.org/state.shtml

St. Peter's Fish Pronto
Michelle Sessions DiFranco | Photography by Phillip Shippert

It’s Saturday evening and I reach into the fridge for last night’s leftovers to feed the family. To my dismay, I realize we don’t exactly have a lot left over – two pieces of pizza just isn’t going to cut it for the three of us. My finger-tapping on the fridge and wondering what we’re going to have is interrupted by a loud knock on our front door. It’s Andy, my husband’s best friend. Great. Make that four of us. Now we really have a dinner dilemma, since I have nothing thawed and don’t exactly want to order a pizza for the second night in a row. I think of the miracle of the loaves and the fishes and an idea pops into my head: tilapia.

The tilapia fish goes as far back as ancient Egypt and was the fish that Jesus used to feed the 5,000 folks at the Sea of Galilee. One of its common names is “St. Peter’s Fish” since it was what the Apostle Peter caught as a fisherman. And how apropos, since generosity and sharing (one of the key takeaways from Jesus’ miracle of the loaves and fishes), is exactly what I need to remind myself of to overcome the frustration of Andy’s ‘timely’ arrival at our door.

But the best part about tilapia – or any fish for that matter – is that it cooks very quickly. Even if frozen, individually wrapped fillets thaw within 15 minutes in a bowl of cool water. The following recipe for blackened tilapia (our favorite) is the one I use often and it is as gourmet in taste as it is quick to cook. My recommendation is to try it on June 29, the feast day of St. Peter. Just before you take your first bite, consider the wonderful reality that this is the same fish our Lord ate with his followers 2,000 years ago.

You will need:

• 2 tablespoons garlic powder
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 2 tablespoons paprika
• 1 tablespoon onion powder
• 1 tablespoon black pepper
• 1 tablespoon dried oregano
• 1 tablespoon dried thyme
• 1 1⁄2 teaspoons cayenne pepper, or to taste (I like it hot)
• 4 tilapia fillets
• 1⁄2 stick of melted butter or a few tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 lemon, cut into wedges
• small bunch of fresh parsley

Directions:

In an empty spice jar or small bowl, make the blackening seasoning by combining all of the above dry spices. Set aside. Heat a heavy skillet (preferably cast iron) on high for a few minutes. Coat the fish fillets with melted butter or oil and generously sprinkle the blackening seasoning on both sides of tilapia fillets (remaining seasoning can be stored for later use). Sear fillets in hot skillet for about 2-3 minutes on each side (until they are blackened and cooked through). Give them a squeeze of lemon and garnish with chopped fresh parsley for extra flavor and serve over a bed of cooked rice and veggies.