Picking up my guitar again

Originally uploaded by Champuru.

There was a time when I used to run home to my guitar after school. I would pore over tabulature and practice for hours. The tips of my fingers were calloused by the steel strings (Ernie Ball, medium gauge) and I dreamt of growing up to work in the music industry. Needless to say, reality took its course and my lack of true talent determined that I would not be a rock star, but a computer geek instead.

Fast forward 17 years. My black Pearl drumset, pink electric guitar, amp and various effect pedals had been pawned off for more than a decade. A few years ago, I parted with my nylon string classical guitar, donated to a young teen, a foster child, at my church who was interested in learning to play. The last remaining evidence of my inclination for music was my acoustic guitar.

Stored away for years, it was a long-forgotten piece of my past, but one that I hadn’t allowed myself to part with just yet.

Recently, our karate ministry gang* decided that it would be a great idea to pool our talents and lead worship at their church. After all, besides being kick-arse karateka, they were also black belts in music. Talk turned into action and before I knew what was happening, I had been persuaded to join the karate worship team.

I warned them, repeatedly and vigorously, that I hadn’t touched a musical instrument in YEARS, so they shouldn’t expect much. Correction: They shouldn’t expect anything. They assured me that I wouldn’t be the only guitarist in the bunch, so no pressure!

We attended a couple of practice sessions and I was surprised to see that I still had some memory of chords and strumming patterns. As expected, I had lost the strength in my fingers and my tender fingertips throbbed incessantly at the end of the 2-hour session. Despite this, it felt good to be playing an instrument again, to be contributing to something that produced a sound that was hopefully appealing to someone other than ourselves. After all, we were playing music unto the Lord and hopefully He was pleased with what He heard, too.

Somehow, Hubby and I got nominated to sing a verse each. Solo. Now, playing the guitar in public was one thing, but singing a solo? Goodness gracious, we might as well send the congregation home early because we’re going to see a great exodus of Biblical proportions once I get the mic.

I tried, in vain, to protest this sudden change in the program, but the team had spoken and I was committed. Oy, I can’t handle the peer pressure!

Well, my allergies are acting up, so we’ll see if this will serve as “good timing” to relieve me of this obligation. But, I doubt it.

The big day? Sunday. I’ll give you a report after that; that is, if I don’t drop dead on stage from utter embarrassment.

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