At the beginning of this year I wrote down a list of goals for 2012.  Nineteen days later, I finally started one of them.  My fingertips in my left hand are a bit sore as I type and I’ve been transported to many times and places as I strummed my beautiful guitar once again.  I’ve had lots of excuses why I didn’t pick it up and play.  One by one I’ve shot them down, the last excuse being the fact that it only had five very old strings on it.  I was a bit rusty at changing them, but now they are shiny and smooth once again and it felt heavenly to strum after so long.

My guitar was a gift almost twelve years ago.  For my first guitar, I saved my pennies and bought the cheapest one in the showroom.  It served me well, and I learned so much from many people as I took it with me wherever I went.  Fast-forward a couple years to the night before I was leaving to go to Kenya for five months.  Since I was planning on taking my guitar with me to Kenya and only had a soft-shell case I was really hoping to go out and buy a hard-shell case the next day.  That night my church family gave me a farewell dinner and presented me with a hard-shell guitar case.  I was so amazed, but nothing prepared me for what came next.  When they told me to open the case to see if my guitar fit, there lay a beautiful, new guitar.  It was a weighted moment, sort of like when I looked at my babies for the first time, and I’ll never forget it.  Something so gorgeous and unexpected gifted to me.  I’m still humbled.

I remember playing that night in my bedroom with my sister, Sherry and best friend Rebecca (who is now my sister-in-law).  We laughed and sang and Rebecca stuffed secret crumpled up notes into my duffle bag that I found a few days later when I arrived on the other side of the ocean.  I stuck my first bumper sticker on the case that said, “Life is short.  Pray hard.”  It started many conversations from Pennsylvania to Kenya.  I was able to keep the guitar by my side the entire way there as a carry-on bag.

I love music.  I’m tired of thinking I’ll be good at the guitar one day.  I have a lot of ground to make up from disuse.  Then I have a lot of ground to cover that I’ve never crossed before, and I’m excited about it!  Hopefully in a month the pain on my fingertips will be replaced by numbness.  Ten minutes a day.  Anyone want to come jam with me?