Stevie Nicks' "Sara"

Today, I read that Stevie Nicks publicly announced that her famous song, "Sara", was written about the baby she aborted back in the late 70's.  This was a baby conceived from her affair with Don Henley, of the Eagles.  This story has absolutely shook me to the core, and I have not been able to get her, the song, or baby Sara out of my mind all day.  The sadness I have felt for Stevie, Sara, and Don has just overshadowed my day.  Fleetwood Mac is probably my all-time favorite rock band, and truth be told, I wanted to grow up and be a female rocker with a kick*** voice like Stevie Nicks or the Heart sisters, Ann and Nancy Wilson.  One well-recorded night (in my memory) in 1977, my family went out for pizza and immediately after wandered into a nearby record store.  My parents bought two albums that night, I believe.  One was Heart's "Dreamboat Annie" and the other was Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours".  I played those albums over and over and over.  I memorized all the lyrics.  I, of course, belted out those songs day after day …for years to come.  Stevie Nicks was a personality I kept up with all these years, and every time I heard one of her songs I was instantly transported to my childhood - the warm Tampa, FL air, the dancing and twirling, the singing, and the emulating.

 


"Sara" was released a couple years later in 1979 on their album, "Tusk", and "Sara" became my favorite Fleetwood Mac song…but I wondered about the lyrics. I remember my father telling me that the band members were kind of all dating each other and it wasn't really working out.  That was a lot for my child brain to wrap around.  Of course, children see the world so simply.  In years since, I have come to find out that Stevie Nicks has struggled with a heroine addiction, has had an abortion, has had failed relationships, and on and on.  Will celebrities ever really be able to put fame in its place? It always seems to have a stranglehold on its victims.

Pro-lifers have long been speaking about, writing about, marching about, and shouting about the horrendous side-effects associated with abortions.  Addiction, depression, suicide, failed relationships, miscarriages, infertility, breast cancer, a life of regret, and various other internal physical problems - including death - these are the side effects that we are legally bestowing on the maternal life-givers of our society.  This is what we are encouraging women to do to themselves…and their babies.  Yes, that's right.  We are encouraging this. Millions of women have suffered through this barbaric, torturous, and deathly experience, and most suffer in silence for a lifetime.

I don't know what Stevie Nicks truly feels about her experience, as I am not in her heart.  Only God knows what is in her heart.  I can tell you that writing a song about the baby she killed is not just a ditty about a blob of cells.  The "pro-choice" camp will tell you that it is, and that every woman has the right to expel that blob.  Sadly, they just don't see the whole picture.  They are seeing the trees and not the forest.  This is such a bigger matter than a medical procedure.  Stevie Nicks wrote a song about her baby girl, "Sara".  Every time she sang that song - every performance she ever gave - she thought of her baby and the death of her baby at hers and Don's own hands.  Clearly it was a "choice" she has lamented all these 35 years.

I had read somewhere else (I can't remember where) that she was surprised at Don Henley's sort of indifferent reaction to her decision.  I think that was the hardest part for me to read.  This is an all too familiar scenario for women and their "choice" to abort.  Of course, we have heard of the heinous crimes men have committed against women literally dragging them to abortion clinics or forcing abortifacient drugs on them.  We don't hear the millions of stories of women who kill their babies because their lover, boyfriend, or husband simply is indifferent …leading the woman to believe she will have no help in raising this beautiful gift from God and sending her into disparity and a "choice" that will have deathly results and lifelong harm for her.  No, we don't hear those stories.  This is profoundly sad.  These women whisper everyday in their cavernous wounds of regret.

Stevie Nicks grieved, and she is probably still grieving for Sara.  I am grieving for Sara today.  I am grieving for Stevie and Don.  I pray that baby Sara is praying for her parents to grow closer to our Lord and live in His light - not the limelight.  I am so happy for Stevie that she decided to publicly disclose this very personal piece of information.  It puts a very public face on the dark private world of the abortion business.  It is bleak, smarmy, dirty, deathly, at times covert, and always evil.  It has touched the lives of millions of women and men and robbed 56 million people of their lives.  Sara is a precious gem in God's eyes.  She is also - painfully for me to say - common….for she is one in 56 million.  Pray for women around the world every day that they will make the right choice ~ that they will say YES TO LIFE!

If you or someone you know has had an abortion and needs help or has worked in the abortion industry and now regrets it, please know there is help.
Project Rachel/Hope After Abortion :  http://hopeafterabortion.com
Silent No More :  http://www.silentnomoreawareness.org/index.aspx
Rachel's Vineyard :  http://www.rachelsvineyard.org
And Then There Were None :  http://www.attwn.org

There are other organizations.  You can search "post abortion counseling".

These are the lyrics to "Sara":
Wait a minute baby
Stay with me awhile
Said you'd give me light
But you never told me about the fire

Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
Then call me home

And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match, he was singing
And undoing, and undoing the laces
Undoing the laces

Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
But when you build your house
Then call me home

Hold on
The night is coming and the starling flew for days
I'd stay home at night, all the time
I'd go anywhere, anywhere, anywhere
Ask me and I'm there, yeah
Ask me and I'm there, I care

In the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
They say it doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
Then please call me home

Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, and don't you ever stop
Now it's gone
No it doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
I'll come by

Sara
Sara

Kindergarten!!! The Flying Dutch Monkey Swings On In

This one's for all the parents of kindergarteners... 

It is that time of year again…you know, when the loving teachers ask the parents to "let them know" a "little something" about their children.  Well….my youngest son started kindergarten this year, and since I have already dedicated a post on my blog to parenting him (which you can read HERE ), I figured I would write my letter to the teacher and post it here as well…

Dear "My Son's Teacher",

When I was pregnant with this beautiful boy, I kept hearing God telling me that he would be sweet natured, loving, and obedient.  Yes, those were the words I kept hearing.  Those words ran around in my head as my insatiable appetite grew along with my belly.  They grew and grew and grew until I thought I might be carrying Godzilla inside!

Then the kicking began.  This wasn't the ordinary kicking that babies do.  Oh no.  This little boy thought he was sitting on little tiny bleachers in there and he took great glee in stomping in a downward motion, as if he was at a basketball game stomping to "We Will Rock You"!  Seriously, I did not know that babies could squeeze little chairs in there with them!  Those words of obedient and loving kept running around in my head and I really wondered.

After tipping the scales at 200 pounds, I gave birth to the tiny saint only for him to let me know that the same mama's milk that had grown and nurtured two babies prior would not be enough for him.  Don't get him wrong …he loved it, but he'd need another 8 ounces of formula as the chaser.  

By the time he was two years old he had a new baby sister, and his father and I had lovingly nicknamed him "Blonde Destruction" and "The Flying Dutch Monkey" - as seen here in these photos…

THIS is how his days started.

Thus the "flying" part

When he began preschool the following year, I kind of quickly kissed him goodbye at the door …and then ran for my life - praying all the way home that I would not get the phone call from the preschool director that Blonde Destruction was sitting next to her in the "uncooperative chair".  To my extreme bewilderment, the teacher said he was "sooooooo good" and "soooooo quiet".  She said he was the most well-behaved boy in the class!  Had I reached an all-time low??? Were the other boys so bad that my Flying Dutch Monkey's behavior paled in comparison?  No! Apparently, he (upon setting foot inside the preschool classroom) became my sweet-natured, loving, and obedient saint of a child that God said he was.  Wow!  Didn't see that one coming!

So, you see, it seems as though Blonde Destruction saves up all that goodness for you teachers.  As a matter-of-fact, he informs me that he is "the bestest boy in the whole kindergarten"!  

Here are some interesting facts about the Flying Dutch Monkey:

His passions are dinosaurs - the scarier the better - especially when they're terrifying his little sister, drawing and painting, and Godzilla!

He is a "Master Builder" of LEGOS and loooooooved the new LEGO movie.  Blonde Destruction loves to keep all LEGOS in tiny pieces all over the floor just so mom can scream in agony as she's walking across the floor - ahem, I mean, so he can really get those creative juices flowing and build spaceships, monsters, and trucks.

He loves putting on costumes and wearing them in new and innovative ways - as displayed here:

A new version of Spiderman…or a cowboy…or Captain Underpants?

My Flying Dutch Monkey is a funny, creative, intelligent, energetic, sweet-natured, loving, and obedient boy who thinks outside the box.  As his mother, I have learned to be more patient, and my heart has grown immensely from the love this boy gives. 

My hopes and dreams for this year?  I pray he doesn't help you to learn to be more patient, but I do hope your heart will grow from the love this boy gives.

Sincerely,

Bearer of the Flying Dutch Monkey  aka Blonde Destruction

Women: We Are Comrades, Not Competition

A few weeks ago, I happened to be in a waiting room with my 18 year old son.  It was filled with mostly women.  Upon leaving, my son remarked to me that women are very different from men.  I said that was true, but asked him what he meant.  He said that he notices that when women are all in a room together all we do is look each other up and down and give each other dirty looks.  He said that if it were men all in a room together, they'd be instantly talking about sports or something and laughing.  He asked me why women treat each other the way we do.  I didn't really have a great answer other than informing him I had decided LONG AGO that when I enter a room full of women, I look at no one.  I don't want to engage in anyone's stares or nasty looks.

A few days ago, I read this article about a Yazidi Girl who escaped ISIS.  It is a harrowing tale and one that the whole world should read and be extremely concerned about.  She speaks of escaping with another girl and running into the arms of the PKK who helped her ultimately escape.  Do these girls look one another up and down when meeting each other for the first time?  I know you just snorted.  It's laughable.  It's laughable because these people have real problems and are fighting for their lives.  I doubt there is a lot of cattiness involved when women are huddled together praying for their lives.  The Iraqi women are in it together, and by "it" I mean life.  They see the big picture.  They know what is important because so many of them have had it taken away - their husbands, their homes, their children, their virginity, their innocence, their freedom.

So why in the world are we free women so cruel to one another?  Do we have too much? Are our lives so superficial that our mind's most important thoughts revolve around which handbag is on our arm, which shoes are on our feet, which car's steering wheel we're sitting behind, or which fellow female we're being seen with?  Really?  It sounds absurd when I paint this portrait of extreme landscapes - we women in the western free world and the women of Iraq and Syria.

I will say that we modern free women in the U.S. are basically all the same.  When you get down to it, we are simply women created by God.  We are entirely feminine.  We are daughters, sisters, aunts, wives, mothers, and grandmothers.  We probably genuinely care about the same things.  When we encounter each other, we must see a comrade, not competition.  We are all in this together.  Think about how much better our days would be if we all supported each other versus tearing each other down.  We complain that we don't get the same jobs men get or that we're not paid the same, yet we will degrade each other in the workplace and beat each other down to the point where someone loses their job.  We complain that no one listens to us, yet roll our eyes at the the woman who speaks of her "problems" in public.

As a Christian woman, I implore all Christian women to reach out to other women every chance you get.  We are in this together. We really do get each other.  We have husbands who may be great and supportive or may be abusive or neglectful or just difficult to talk to. We have elderly parents we're caring for.  We have children with multitudes of issues.  We have difficult jobs and responsibilities.  We all have our insecurities.  We all have dreams.  Let us build each other up and build a culture in this country that is truly pro-feminine.  We can never do that without first starting with ourselves.