What Bothers Me the Most
by Fr. Frank Pavone
Well, friends, here in Amarillo I am working hard at my computer on various pro-life projects as I await further instructions from the diocese. Nothing yet, but being I take my “traveling office” with me to four states a week, there’s never a “nothing to do” moment.
It’s so encouraging to see so many people on the same page with me, loving and respecting the Church and, out of that very love and respect, supporting the pro-life mission we are all engaged in together. Amidst the many expressions of support, many say to me that they are praying for me “in this difficult time.”
But what’s difficult about it?
Sure, it’s distressing to have to endure false suspicions, inaccurate media reports, and disruption to a mission which is at the core of my life. That’s all the temporary distress of what’s happening in these days.
But that’s nothing compared to the distress I experience every day because my unborn brothers and sisters are being butchered by abortion. Tears, sleepless nights, anger, righteous indignation – this and more come to me each day because something is happening to the youngest members of the human family. “Typically, the skull is brought out in fragments, rather than as a unified piece,” said abortionist Martin Haskell in 1999 court testimony, describing legal abortion.
This is not happening to strangers. It’s happening to my brothers and sisters.
That’s what bothers me. That’s what makes my days difficult, every day, long before this current problem and long after.
The images of their mangled bodies accompany me to sleep and greet me when I awake; the cries of their silent voices mingle in my ears with the voices of those who speak to me; their aggrieved rights come to the forefront of my mind when anyone’s “rights” are discussed.
That, above all else, is what constitutes “a difficult time” for me.
The consolation is that there are things I can do to stop this holocaust; things we can all do together.
I’m sitting here in Amarillo right now because I’m a faithful and obedient priest, as I promised to be long ago. But there’s a more fundamental reason I’m sitting here, and it’s for the children that nearly everybody forgets and ignores. I’m here because cooperating with Church authority at this moment is the best way to preserve the mission I lead to save these children, a mission aimed precisely at increasing the Church’s awareness of and response to this holocaust.
But let’s be clear. Nobody needs anybody else’s permission to save a human life, to rescue a child from dismemberment and decapitation. In fact, to fail to do so is to fail miserably as a priest, as a Catholic, as a Christian, and as a human being. God deliver us from that fate.