June 6, 2016 is a day that I will never forget. I was at the beginning of a four-month tour of the west coast up to Alaska when my tour bus caught on fire and burned to the ground at a Love’s truck stop in Corning, CA. 

I was inside grabbing a quick bite to eat when someone from the parking lot came running in yelling, “Fire!” I don’t know why, but I instinctively knew it was me. So I just started running. There are no words to describe the terror that ran through my body at the moment I saw the flames and smoke. My two dogs were on board, and all I could think about was getting them to safety. But, I was completely paralyzed. My partner, on the other hand, ran onto the burning bus to save the dogs. Thankfully everyone was ok. All my things, my home, my livelihood - were completely destroyed.

That night was one of the most traumatic and defining moments of my entire adult life. 

2015 and 2016 were rough years for me professionally and creatively. At that point, I was approaching year 10 of my career. I was feeling a little burned out, and a little raw from a bad experience I had with a management group. To get out of the depression and holding pattern, I decided to purchase a bus and hit the road. The bus was my way of creating a brand new start and getting rid of some emotional blockages. I needed to step on the gas with my dream again, reconnect with myself and my fans. 

At the time I had no physical address. The bus was my home, my transportation on tour, my sanctuary, and stability. I realize that to most people living on a bus doesn’t seem like a stable lifestyle. But, I’m the gypsy free-spirited type. So to me, it felt like unbridled freedom! That’s why watching it burn before my eyes was so incredibly painful. 

I can remember walking into a roach motel across the street from the truck stop covered in soot from head to toe. The front desk person was grossly unfazed and unconcerned by the state of my condition. The dream was gone, and so was a big part of me. As the motel walls came closing in on me, so did the realization that I had just lost everything. 

But, as the saying goes; there is beauty in the ashes. There certainly was for me. It didn’t take long before floods of people started showing up in the aftermath. Someone started a fundraiser, and in a matter of 3 days, $10,000 was raised. People were shipping me supplies - even clothes. Musician friends were sending me gear - capos, cables, tuners, and strings. Someone from Phoenix even mailed me a sound system, and my merch company offered to reprint everything I lost at a discounted rate. 

With the money from the fundraiser, I was able to rent a minivan, which served as transportation for the next few shows. At one of those first few shows following the fire, a fan came up to me afterward. He was so touched by my story that he felt like he was supposed to give me his motor home to finish my tour. The tears began to flow, and at that moment I fully realized the impact music has on human connection. 

At my lowest, the road was rising to meet me. After the fire, I was ready to give up. I honestly didn’t want to keep going, and I was ready to let it go. But, people came. Money came. My needs were met and then somehow exceeded. Through all the love and support I realized what people were saying: “We are listening. Your music matters. You are making a difference. Don’t give up.” They were talking. And, I knew I had to listen. So, I dusted off my britches, picked up my broken heart, and pushed through the pain.

We took the 16-foot motor home up the coast through British Columbia, Yukon, and on to Alaska and back — dogs in tow. It was a summer full of adventure, life lessons, friendship, and healing on the open road. My dream was reborn and the phoenix was beginning to rise from the ashes. 

I returned to Nashville in the fall with a newfound purpose. I wound up getting signed to a small, independent label there and released two EP’s for them. By the fall of 2018, I was independent again, putting together a plan for my new record. The new songs are deeply authentic and heavy leaning on social justice issues. I think the way my fans showed up for me in the fire helped me to realize that my work really was important. The road can be lonely, and it’s easy to think that your efforts are futile as a touring artist when the grind of touring hits you hard. But music does matter. The songs are the heartbeat of what connects my tribe together, and I’ve taken my platform a lot more seriously since the fire. My new record is called Burn the Witch, and it will be released March 27, 2020. To all the dreamers out there — Great traumas are great teachers. Never, ever give up. 

You can listen to Sarah’s track, “Take A Little Time” below.