A Reflection From The Road

A typical water delivery run to the Coalfields of West Virginia takes about 11 hours. A little over five hours down Route 81 and into southern WV, about 30 minutes unloading, and a little over five hours to get back. It is typically a straightforward trip, mostly on highways, which is fortunate. The real blessing here is that it gives me the ability to reach places that our third-party delivery services cannot. I can go 625 miles on less than $70 of gas, getting about 34 mpg for the 60 or 70 gallons of water being delivered. In terms of efficiency and cost-effectiveness, that works out pretty well, except for one problem: I am convinced at this point that everyone on Route 81 is trying to kill me! Now I am joking of course, but I have continued to notice over the past few years a steady increase in accidents and instances of reckless driving while traveling Route 81, noticeably more than I have seen on other highways. Initially, I would have attributed this to the sheer number of trucks, auto-haulers, livestock haulers, and construction vehicles present on the highway. Afterall, Route 81 merges with Interstate 70, a major transfer hub, but in my town of Martinsburg, which 81 passes through, it seems that there is at least one very serious traffic incident every other day, often resulting in a fatality. According to Virginia’s Commonwealth Transportation Board, just for the stretch of Route 81 that is in Virginia, more than 2,900 traffic accidents happen every year. I take this to heart when traveling, and usually I am good for the most part. But on a recent trip returning from a successful water delivery in Southern WV, I encountered what was probably the most perilous journey in my life. Cars regularly exceeding 100 mph. Trucks weaving in and out of traffic as though they were sports cars. Drivers cutting other drivers off constantly. I barely escaped a very serious accident, when a Jeep doing about 90 mph came up on a tractor trailer who was in the middle of switching lanes. The tractor trailer started to jackknife as a result – and I was in the other lane, only one car length behind. How the Jeep managed to weave around the truck without striking the guardrail, and how the truck managed to regain control without crushing me in its jackknife, is an act that can be directly contributed to God’s grace. But as a devout Catholic, once I regained my composure from a frightening near-hit, I said to myself “do any of these people who drive like this claim to be pro-life?” And with several hours left in my trip, I found myself pondering deeply what it really means to be “pro‑life.” What if someone claims to be pro-life and still drives in a way that endangers others? The truth is that there are so many angles from which to observe the pro-life stance - from supporting more affordable medical care, to opposing the death penalty. But at the center of the debate lies the issue of abortion, and this debate will always be there. As I pondered all of this on my long drive, a difficult question crossed my mind. Does banning abortion actually reduce it? I'm a numbers guy, but I couldn't remember actually taking the time to look at the numbers on this issue. According to the Guttmacher Institute, after Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022, the number of abortions in the United States reportedly rose from 613,000 in 2022 to more than 1,037,000 in 2023. That is a dramatic increase, and it presents an uncomfortable picture. It forces us to think more honestly about what it means to protect life, whether our current approach is achieving that goal, and what deeper conditions must change if we truly want abortion to become unthinkable.

The point here is not to stir up controversy. None of us are perfect, and many of the issues we face as a nation are far beyond any one person’s control. But when it comes to abortion, I’ve reached an unfortunate and painful conclusion. As much as I cherish life, as much as I love seeing families grow, and as deeply as I long for a world where no one feels driven toward abortion, I must acknowledge that simply banning abortion does not stop it. West Virginia is a clear example. In our state, abortion is illegal. Mail‑order abortion pills are illegal. And while these laws do prevent abortions from happening within West Virginia, they do not save an unborn child’s life. Why? Because the same institute I mentioned earlier — the Guttmacher Institute — has shown that interstate travel for abortions has risen dramatically since the overturning of Roe v. Wade. And with virtually no chance that all fifty states will enact total bans, prohibiting abortion in one state does not end it; it simply shifts the location of where the unborn child dies. This policy doesn't change hearts or minds, just locations. As a Catholic, this troubles me deeply. In 2011, my first wife had an abortion without my knowledge, and the shock of that moment broke something inside me. I wasn’t included in the conversation, the decision, or even the grief that followed. That marriage was later annulled by the Church after our divorce in 2013, but none of that brings our child back. The years of drinking that followed did not bring our child back either. And yet, even in that pain, there has always been a small, quiet grace — a sense that God can use even our deepest hurt to move us toward hope. I believe that people of every background, every party, and every conviction can still work together to eventually eliminate abortion and protect life. But to do that, we have to be honest: abortion, while morally wrong, is not the root problem. It is a symptom of a disease that runs much deeper in our system of government. Greed, dishonesty, pride, lust, and envy. Too many self‑serving politicians have grown wealthy while neglecting the very citizens they were elected to represent. Too many of these elected officials refuse to manage a responsible budget, control inflation, put our nation's interests first, or pass legislation that genuinely serves families. Meanwhile, the cost of groceries and fuel has skyrocketed. Childcare has become unaffordable for ordinary parents. Even basic child‑care products cost more than ever. Families are being crushed under the weight of an economy that no longer supports them, brought forth by a bunch of so called "representatives" that do not know the meaning of “love thy neighbor” — and when families struggle, life itself becomes more vulnerable.

As a political independent, I’ve always felt the Holy Spirit has given me the ability to see issues from both sides without losing my peace or stumbling in my Catholic conviction. Maybe that is because I don’t look at the world through a political lens at all, but through a Christian lens. With that in mind, I’ve asked some of my more liberal‑leaning friends why they support abortion. I have to admit, I wasn’t surprised by the reasons they shared: “Nobody can afford to raise a child,” and “Too many families are too poor to give their children a good life.” Those were the answers I heard most often. And honestly, those concerns reveal something important — an opportunity to save lives by addressing the real struggles families face. My Catholic faith approaches the question of life differently than the political left does, but that doesn’t mean we cannot work together to practically solve a problem. If we truly want children to be welcomed into the world, then we should advocate for policies that strengthen families, uphold Christ’s teachings, and make raising children more affordable and less daunting. In that shared goal, life can be protected not only by conviction, but by compassion. And that is why Christ calls us to go out into the world - that is why our ministry advocates for pro-family policies that make the cost of living more manageable. I suppose my close call on 81 served a greater purpose, going deep into prayer and thoughts surrounding how important every life is. I dream not only of a world where there are no more abortions, but of a world where our representatives care, where fathers are present, and where mothers-to-be are not enshrouded in the fear that moves them to make such painful decisions. Because that decision is permanent, when life is most certainly not.